The Ladysplitter

Awesome.

Being awesome isn’t easy. Most people try and fall short . Those people can all be pissed on by Gozer the Gozerian on an eternal plane of hate, fire, and torment.

Note: Ghostbusters is fucking AWESOME!

To be awesome, and therefore find awesome women (Awesomeness is a property of polarity that is defined by two things that are awesome coming together. It is the only way awesomeness can ever be quantified.), one must not try to be awesome. Trying to not try is just as much trying as actually trying, so the only real way to be awesome is to forget to be awesome (Forgetting awesome exists works, but not as well as forgetting to be awesome.). The finest, most pure forms of awesome come completely naturally, and seemingly accidentally. Coincidence and awesomeness often come hand-in-hand.

There was this one lady. She was absolutely convinced I was awesome because I was really white. Like, if I was naked in a blizzard, I would be lost for the few minutes it takes for frostbite to happen. This pale appearance came from an awesome set of DNA that limits melanin production due to a lack of proteins to fuel the melanin producing cells. Long story short, I screwed it up and got totally snubbed because I tried to exploit the pale that makes me awesome. Never again will I be able to harness its power.

Ok, it’s weak. I will admit that, but how the fuck do I follow my last post? Seriously. That thing was pretty fucking awesome and I have some serious anxiety as far as writing that well on a consistent basis. To overcome that anxiety, I write crap so whatever comes right after it will look good.

For those of you that caught that the post entitled “Awesome.” was anything but, you fucking suck. I actually thought it would come out pretty well, but it didn’t and I got too lazy to do anything about it.

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Eating Out

I have decided to go with regular titles from now on. They don’t require any counting or remembering on my part.

The subject of eating out is a very important one that is difficult to cover, because women differ so widely in their preferences. For the sake of brevity, I will cover 3 main tactics; romantic, informal, and interactive.

Women of the romantic type need a scene set… They need to feel the occasion is special to be fulfilled. This may be labor intensive, but the benefits can be amazing. Music, lighting, ambience, and all that other crap you normally never care about are all very important here.

The informal women usually don’t mind something quick and dirty. They may even enjoy more exotic locations and lots of variance each time. They could become bored with a routine, so you gotta change it up! They typically try to suggest things in more of a passive way than an aggressive one. Something quick just before the playoff game (or whatever mindless, distracting thing you commonly watch or do) might actually be good from time to time for this type.

The interactive women like to feel like they are a part of the process. They are probably a little heavy handed in the process and are very vocal about what they like, which may be similar to the more informal women but with more aggression. It is best to just go with whatever she likes, because if she ends up happy and feels that you really tried something out of your comfort zone, she may just do the same.

Hopefully this info helps you out… It would have been great for me a few years ago. I was with this chick and I figured her for a romantic type so I set up the whole candles and music bit for our first time. She ended up bored and unsatisfied about halfway through and the next thing I knew, she had dragged me to a fast food place and we went crazy in her car out behind the store next door. I don’t think I have ever had that much taco in my face, and hopefully I never will again. It was extremely intimidating.

Some of you are very confused right now. You can fuck off and go watch some crappy youtube videos. For those of you that get the joke, you get 20 points, redeemable at your local internets. Congrats!

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Probably number 3. Or 4.

This is getting really hard to keep track of. You know, because I’m all prolific and junk. That’s more sarcasm for the brighter ones out there who can understand irony when given a situation and a conflicting description of that situation. For the rest of you… you can suck a diseased whale fluke.

Money is a pretty important thing. For some people, that’s why they spend 6-8 hours a day away from people they love and things they enjoy doing. Others use it to escape that exact same thing. It’s called a job and you get money for doing it without pissing people off.

The reason this money thing, and by association the job thing, is so important is because women are really fucking expensive. Either they need a good dinner and a movie before giving it up, or they need a bunch of cash up front. For the fluke suckers, that means they are hookers. Women happen to know they are expensive, so you have to have money to get them. You could prey on their daddy issues, but odds are you didn’t get the sarcasm from earlier so this would be near impossible for your simple mind.

The real trick to it is to drink expensive things in public. When a female sees the expensive drink, she will draw you into her by eye contact. If you make your lame ass job seem exciting long enough to fill her with jager/wine/smirnoff (depends on the venue) then you will be successful in getting a one night stand.

This one time, I showed up to a bar dressed in a suit, but with the tie loosened and the top button of the shirt undone because I’m not some stuck-up lawyer or some boring shit like that. I told this one chick, about a 4 sober (8 drunk), that I was a “risk management tech for an investment firm” and that I was “in town for a merger of two production companies that had turned hostile” and that I “needed a night off after 4 days of heated mediation”. Exactly. 3 pinot’s later, that size 18 skirt dropped so fast that it made my head stop spinning. It got really awkward the next day when she came in to the restaurant I waited tables at and sat in my section… she had the NY strip AND the soup of the day, only tipped 8%, and didn’t recognize me even with those nasty claw marks still showing on my neck.

If you want a night half as magical as that, take my advice and have money. Use the money for drinks and good clothes. Worst comes to worst, pay some hooker to hug you as you cry over how even the most foolproof methods won’t land a woman one tenth as amazing as you controlling mother who raised you after you dad went out for groceries that one night when you were five and never came back, even after you found out he moved to Texas and sent him a high school graduation invite, then found out on facebook that he took his awesome new family to the lake that weekend instead of showing up and took pictures of all of them smiling on his new boat because he got sober and landed a great job and a hot wife because he had real money and could afford to keep someone happy and forget his old life filled with verbally abusive in-laws and using alcohol to cope with the slumping economy of the small town shithole you grew up in and could never leave because it was the only place you ever really felt secure. Pussy.

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The next one.

I forgot which tip this is… already. I know it’s not too many to keep up with but, fuck, I’m not Shakespeare or Hemingway or any shit like that.

On to brass tacks: grooming.

Shave that shit dude. Seriously. Get on that, now. Most ladies love dude hair in the right places: arms, legs, head (facial hair see below). All that crazy chest shit needs to be gone. Pubes are just wrong. Back hair is straight nasty. My rule of thumb is there is one place a dude should have hair that a chick shouldn’t. That place is the legs. I know your big question; what about armpits? Get it the fuck outta there! It sucks for about 2-3 days, then you never have the nasty flakes of roll-on droppin’ down like dandruff when the shirt comes off.

The next bit is hair. Keep it clean, ass-hats. It’s not hard. You probably shower for one reason or another, like, once a week at the least. Just throw some shampoo in that shit (repeat if you really want to talk her into something she has never done).

Facial hair is a difficult subject. The easy answer is don’t, but you won’t listen anyway so go for it. I did a few times.

You can take this info for whatever you want… it’s not like I ever got any for cleanliness and shit like that. I only got laid because I killed a bear with my bare hands, then used those bear hands to kill another bear. She was an animal rights activist… shit got creepy. More “whips and chains” creepy than “gross porn” creepy, but in a bad way.

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Tip number one!

The first thing I have noticed about women is that they like to laugh. The downside to this is that the things that make them laugh leave their panties drier than a month old sponge in the Sahara.

For example, there was this stripper, let’s call her Stargasm because that is WAY cooler than her real stage name, and I got to know Stargasm well… As well as any other guy with ten bucks to spare anyway. One day I told Stargasm I wanted to destroy her “lady bits” with my “manhammer”. While this did initially result in Stargasm’s uproarious laughter, it ended when she noticed I was very serious, and also in a very painful lesson from a large bouncer who explained that, “bitches don’t want a clown, man, they want a rich dick with an Escalade.”

As a poor man, the best I can do is tell you that funny only results in pissing blood for a week and one hell of a story. If women really wanted a man that makes them laugh, they would never dare to mention it to anybody. Ever.

Take this lesson for what it’s worth: $3000 in medical bills an a lifetime ban from the least creepy strip joint around.

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In the beginning…

I guess introductions are in order here. I am a quiet and observant young man with a dark sense of humor and a lack of ability with women. All that follows will be a dramatized recount of all my failed attempts, as well as the attempts I observe, to get up in some lady bits, so to speak. There also may be some random shit thrown in when I get bored… we’ll see what happens in the future.

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zicklepop asked: If I were to ask you again if you are thinking of Dancing Queen by ABBA, would you magically become Samuel Jackson in Pulp Fiction where he is yelling "SAY WHAT AGAIN MOTHERFUCKER!"? (And if so, would you mostly be doing it for the afro?)

That would be a good option, but the absolute first thing that comes to mind would be to stare off into space and long for a time before that song where the children could frolic, the water was sweeter, and adults could think without having to think about Dancing Queen. Then I would pick up a crowbar and hunt down ABBA one by one and forcibly remove every larynx from said group… hypothetically.

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tumblrbot asked: WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE INANIMATE OBJECT?

Those bear shaped bottles they put honey in.

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