Posts Tagged ‘How Not To Impress The Ladies’

Iterations (pt.1)

February 5 2010

Albert v. Helen


Do you like it when I kiss you here? [he kisses her above the left hip]

Yeah [she looks down at him, kissing her]

No. Really though. [he kisses her again at the top of the bottom of her rib cage, on the right]

Sure [concise]

[he kisses her on the solar plexus, and looks up into her eyes (like a dog might)]

I like that you like it.

So it doesn’t actually do anything for you? [he’s upstairs now, by her head]

Well, in context…

In context? [he kisses her on the temple]

You know, like in a row. But not necessarily in a “row”.

[he props himself up on his elbow, lets his hand stray] If it makes intuitive, ‘erotic’ sense.

[her plied arms avoid his wandering fondle] If it works towards an end

Like jazz. [he kisses her on the neck, repeatedly]

Well, I guess… [her head bends, both to thought and the barrage]

And each [kiss] kiss [kiss] is a [kiss] discordant [kiss] yet dulcet [kiss] note.

[her eyes accede slightly] Yeah

[he kisses her on the tip of the nipple and twists her other nipple nipple]



Do you like it when I kiss you here?

[the visual is some semi-quote of Contempt, the score “In The Mood For Love, III”]


[her voice settles in a comfortable crook, or notch]

No. Really though. Do you like it?

I like it

When I kiss you here?


Sure? That’s not really appreciative.


It’s not interesting.


I mean, scarcity-wise– e-co-nom-ically– when I kiss you here [kiss] I can’t kiss you here [kiss] or [kiss].

Like, with thank you notes?

Is the trade-off worth it? Is the difference appreciable?

I can’t tell maybe you should kiss m–

Are you leaving arousal on the table?

I’m… still in my jeans.

Furthermore, does it cover– and profit– the losses forfeit from the extent to which it throws off the thrust of the physical narrative?

I. I’m still wearing–

Does it make intuitive, erotic sense?



Oh, absolutely. It’s the most profitable of every erotic narrative– this kiss. When you kiss me on the hip bone; that’s the one.

[flat affect]

You’re totally the Thelonious Monk of doing it

I didn’t

crossed with John Maynard Keens and Adam Smith and Scrooge McDuck


every time you doff your top hat it makes me wet


Now let’s get those spats off before I soil your sheets1


Do you like it when I kiss you here? [kiss]


How about here? [kiss]


No? [kiss]

Hm… no.

[kiss, kiss]

Still no.

[raspberry, the world’s most delicate]

Mm… warmer.

[raspberry, wetter, a little excess slop]

Oh, yeah. Heating up.

[machine gun stutter]

Uh… Uhh

[full-on fartripples]

Hot. HOT!

[continues, adds in armpit farts]

yes! yes! y-e-s!

[now he’s just saying the word fart into her belly]

Ah! Orgasm

[he relents, comes back up]

[she exhales, lacing her arm back behind her head]

[he dabs her brow with an invisible handkerchief]




1Here’s a picture of me robbing a bank; I’m smiling and those dollar sign bags are full of surplus moans


August, earnest

September 10 2009

Some Pick-Up Lines I Wrote For You (A

Little Drunk) On A Flight From
D.C. To Washington
August 7, 2009.1



❤  I would really like to kiss you.

❤  (Even though my arms are incredibly weak) I bet I could carry you.

❤  How’d you like, five years from now, to have kids of slightly above average height and insufficiently satisfying girth?

❤  I wink at you and then creepily (redundant) try to touch your face. Probably stare a little.

❤  Someday we’ll be dead (and I’m pretty sure I don’t have strep throat)!

❤  If we were rich we could just get on a plane just to get drunk together.

❤  If we get drunk (and a familiar song is playing) there is a 1000% chance I will sing to you.

❤  That’s more a promise than a pick-up line / “Worryin’ about the – common decency = when it is only a – question of frequency”2

❤  Hey– just call me John And/Or Paul, ‘cuz I wanna Hold Your Hand!

❤  Hey– just call me Ringo, ‘cuz I wanna sink my Yellow Submarine in your Octopus’s Garden ew.34

❤  Hey– just call me George, ‘cuz I wanna be Within You and Without You. No wait: that would just leave me Gently Weeping. … Something.


❤  You wear those [object] and I’ll touch your [somepart] as much as you want– guaranteed.


❤  Don’t think, know!: My rhythmic– if spastic– dance moves portend well what awaits you in the bedroom (at least insofar as effort will be involved, also sweating)!

❤  _____ / _____: two families, a dozen aunts and uncles, forty-ish cousins: no retards, no crazies.

❤  Can I get your autograph?


❤  Can I trace you? Like a chaste Leonardo DiCaprio?

❤  Can I cover you with numbers so I know where to paint (once it gets a little less chaste)?

❤  You can have the inside of the bed if you want.

❤  Or the outside– I’m amenable.

❤  Can I protect you from ghosts?

❤  Let’s interlace our fingers like a bodice, or a pair of impractical shoes; let’s stitch them together and wait for the sutures to dissolve.

❤  Ew? / I bet my clothes would probably fit you.


❤  You make me want to floss regularly.

❤  You make me want to shave my neck.

❤  You make me want to obey traffic laws.

❤  You make me want to chrome wheel fuel inject.5

❤  You make me want to write a musical – version of As Good As It Gets =

❤  So I can tell you that “You make me want to be a better man” – without really plagiarizing it.

❤  I genuinely find your half-abashed [trait]– not charming, because that would be condescending– but telling of an authenticity that is exceedingly rare in a culture of tedious, cowardly, and garishly strident uniformity, in which shame and guilt and self-denial are considered personality flaws, signs of abuse.6

❤  You make me want to be able to actually hit on people like a human being might.






1And one I already had, two since re-written.

2“For-e-ver – doesn’t mean for-ev-er anymore…”

3Why is it yellow?

4“It’s leaning more towards pink– so I think it’s ham” – non-sequitur overheard on the plane (that seems to fit here).

5You make me want to contradict my previous statement(s).

6Even though it, you know, was just handed down to you by your parents.

“40. Fish Stories,” an excerpt from the soon-not-to-be-released book, “106 Cheap and Creative Dates (For The Upcoming Depression)”

September 2 2009

40. Tell Fish Stories

What do Jellyfish eat? How do most Octopuses die? Who would marry a Sea Urchin? Exactly how deep in debt has the bivalve mollusk dug itself with its stupid tongue-foot? I heard that dugongs and manatees are just the shape-shifted forms that mermaids, or merbutlers, use to escape human detection? What dark secrets lie behind the Narwhal’s beautiful ivory tusk? While all of these questions have easily researchable scientific ‘answers’1, if contemporary scientifictional assertions, declarations, and book deals have taught us anything it’s that science is woefully incomplete and actually can’t teach us anything, and that the answers that always felt the best are probably right, and that it doesn’t really matter anyways that’s just your opinion and my beliefs are just as valid as yours; misapplication of quantum mechanics.

Otherwise, Jenny McCarthy, and by extension Oprah Winfrey, would have, like, gallons, dump trucks, or even ancient aqueducts of dead children to answer for when their groundbreaking discovery that vaccines are just an evil corporate salesplot to give kids ‘The ‘Tarded’ and, in doing so, further line their profit-filled pockets by tripling sales of medicinal helmets and orthopedic Big Dog t-shirts, eventually results in the break down of herd immunity, allowing cured diseases to run epidemic through the mouths, noses, and buttholes of generations of the Saved. Which, of course, is a scientifictional impossibility, as they are too famous-ish and ubiquitous, respectively, to be so devastatingly wrong about a field completely unrelated to their area of demonstrated expertise (being occasionally naked and succeeding at being successful, respectively).

Also guilty of mass manslaughter.


What do Jellyfish eat? Peanut butter, of course! How do most octopuses die? Inability to adequately perform CPR! Just how deep in debt are bivalves? 113 inches! Who would marry a Sea Urchin? Other Sea Urchins Duh! It’s because their merlaws proscribe severe punishments for any merson caught ‘flashing scale’ to a legaver!2 What secrets lie behind the Narwhal’s beautiful, ivory tusk? We need only catch and kill one to find out!

All of these stories and more can you and your date bullshit to each other while basking beneath your favorite tanks. Maybe on a bench. Maybe body nestled in inviting lap, head laid back on a low shoulder, head leaning, drifting, side of the face flush against the chest, listening.


[DIAGRAM: “What That Sentence Was Supposed To Show” :GNISSIM MARGAID]


[CHART/SIDEBAR: “A Rubric For Use In Constructing Compelling Fish Lies”

Make a statement – examples:

+ “Mako Sharks do not have wieners,”

+ “Sea Urchins have prodigious wieners, one of the biggest in the animal kingdom relative to size,”

+ “Dolphins are bisexual”

Purpose – For awesomeness’s sake.

Also, spinning a story with (or against) someone is an excellent way to kick the four figurative tires of conversational co-operativity, compatibility of aesthetic, coalescence of personality, and amalgamated creativity without resorting to the less effective, and potentially misleading, construct of taste.


Pre-empt the presumed reaction and add a compounding statement

+ “It’s true. They reproduce by exchanging sperm sacs instead!”

+ “It’s true. Their wieners were featured in a ten-page article in the most recent National Geographic– and six pages were a picture!”

+ “All of them, not just a couple; they’re all that way!”

Purpose – Strategic.

A ridiculous statement by itself is of little value beyond the Quirk3 of a non-sequitir; it is both easily disputed and quickly forgotten– and for good reason! For it is through the insistent and extensive defense of an absurd premise that one begins the reciprocal process of Being Awesome Together, or BATting.4 Here, by reaffirming their commitment to the , the storyteller is on their way to demonstrating their worth as a marginally interesting human being and, in doing so, has graciously invited the storytold to do the same.


Add detail

+ “The sperm sac is expelled from the fin, those side fins that are like arms or hands, from a gland not dissimilar to Spider Man’s web shooter.”

+ “The article was about how sea urchin wieners are the perfect test bed for trying out and developing new cancer therapies because of sheer amount of cells that need to reproduce in order to maintain such a prodigious rod.”

+ “It’s like how human beings are straight people– the ratio is just about equal, it’s eerie. There are like 96% bisexual dolphins, and then the rest are straight or gay.”

Purpose – Tactical.

By expanding your story through the introduction of new ‘facts’ your story gains technical specificity that both (a) lends it a momentary and marginal plausibility, as the listener must account for whether it is possible to have come up with so intricate a falsehood this quickly5, and (b) trompes the cerveau by piling fake fact on top of fake fact on top of false premise, making it thereafter impossible to sift through all the accreted nonsense and extract the original absurdity. The richer the story, and the longer it takes to falsify, the more diverting the momentary distraction6 and, ideally, lasting the pleasant tallness of the tale.


Go further

+ “In fact, in the Ultimate reboot, Peter Parker actually gets his web shooter from a Mako Shark fin.”

+ “And that scientists think that the cure for cancer is definitely going to come from sea urchin weiners. It’s either that or rainforest dudes.”

+ “And that’s what the documentary was about– it was about how dolphin pods would start to shun dolphins that would only have sex with one gender of dolphin”

Purpose – Generative.

Once sufficient detail is added, spinning the rest of your story should be easy. Just pick one of the details you’ve introduced, ideally one that diverts your story from its original course or purpose, and follow it to its illogical conclusion. Affect a matter of fact delivery and the resulting ramble is sure to provide the perfect improvisational fodder for the worthwhile potential mate, while merely impressing the uninteresting, and completely baffling the bearers of genetical poison.7


Tie it up

+ “And in issue #133 the Mako Shark ‘web’ shooter takes over his body and Peter turns into Shark Man, a bad guy, and he eats Aunt May and that’s how the first volume ends.”

+ “But since it is still unethical to test on rainforest dudes, everyone is investing super heavily in sea urchin wieners and now they are almost endangered, according to the article.”

+ “And now the Church of England wants to make ice sculptures of boy and girl dolphins a key part of marriage ceremonies, as if they didn’t actually see the movie, and only heard about how gay dolphins got shunned, even though straight dolphins got shunned too, because they are still really mad about the Episcopalians and how they let gay people marry each other. And this has led to this ridciulous 3,000% boom in the ice sculpture business in this one town in Northern England, Planet Money said.”

Purpose – All Good Things Must Come To An End, Parts 1 & 2.

Troi and Worf’s relationship and its potential detrimental effects their future relationship with Commander Riker and Starfleet in general; Data is very robo-fetching with that ridiculous skunk-like streak of grey; are Picard’s skips in time the result of his degenerative brain disease or is Q really sending him back and forth in time; someone finally cures blindness, or at least comes up with a treatment that is less ridiculous than Space Glasses.


Optional esoterotic8 mot de grace9–  

+ “Fucking Bendis!”

+ “It’s like Sean Connery and Lorraine Bracco never, after an acrimonious beginning, learned to work together and, through doing so, fell in love!”

+ “Remember when Tina Fey played Sarah Palin!”

Purpose – Gilt.

Unless an expert, it is best to avoid what can often be a recidivist impulse to abuse reference and invoke taste. For the experienced storyteller, a well-crafted mot de grace, employed with the right combination of knowing ridiculousness and childlike exuberance/semi-genuine enthusiasm can be the perfect full-circle non-sequitur tag to your delightful pile of crap.]




1‘Mostly small fish, zooplankton, shrimp and other jellyfish;’ ‘Don’t be ridiculous;’ ‘Stop wasting my time;’ ‘Ugh… that’s not even a question. And then they clutch their brow;’ and ‘I’m calling the cops,’ respectively.

2A portmanteau form of ‘leg haver,’ pronounced similar to ‘palaver’.

3See [Wherever the Sidebar/Essay about Quirk is going to go] for a more in-depth consideration of Quirk.

4Please refer to page 378 in the Addendappendices for instructions on how to make your own BASEball card– complete with BATting Average, BATting Style, Total BASEs, Dick Size/RVT, VORF, and other vital dating stats (1-10 Derek Number, DECOTA projection, Annual Income, Occupational Satisfaction Forecast, STI History, Cell/E-mail/Facebook/Twitter, a crisp stick of old chewing gum).

5It is.

6From our dumb and stupid lives.

7This of course assumes that you, yourself, are worth half a damn at doing this thing and I apologize in advance for making an ass of u and me. However, regardless of the quality of your storytelling, the act of bullshitting can still be a useful slotting tool, as the evaluation scales to your relative mediocrity or incompetence. For example, if you are a well-adjusted person of suitable to above-adequate attractiveness and charisma, your resulting botched-good-effort should inspire equally useful responses. If neither of you are even aware of the fact that you sort of suck and find that you’re both able to genuinely enjoy your, no doubt cliche-ridden and meme-based, predictable progression of light wackiness: You Are Just As Perfect For Each Other As The Overly Precious Skilled Storytelling Couple (If Not More So). If, on the other hand, your old college try is met with slackmouthed and browtwisted befuddlement, followed by the claim that you are “crazy, you’re crazy, man/girl,” as if your shoddily assembled string of sequiturs made you the next Carlos Mencia, then accept the compliment in the manner it was offered while waiting for the first lull in conversation to excuse yourself the hell away from this evolutionary oubliette. (And if no opportunity should present itself within the next, say, two to three minutes, make your own luck by pointing to the window and asking if they ‘saw that,’ or inquiring about the status of their shoelaces). If, on the other other hand, when observing their face while you talk, you find them completely unable to even fake that they’re not just waiting for you to stop so that they can one-up you, and that the only time they laugh is while trying to tack on a witty rejoinder to their clever riposte to their hypothetical response to their own stupid premise that they spun off of the subconscious Adult Swim crib you stumbled through fifteen minutes ago, feel free to check out mid-conversation and go find someone else more demonstrably human. It’s ok– I’ll get tired of myself eventually, or at least the lights will turn off and I’ll either be tricked into falling asleep or hit on the head from behind with a heavy object. A lamp, maybe, or a ceramic bowl – perhaps a specially kept Guest Mallet. Yes, it’s a proper noun/It happens more often than you’d think.

8 Esoterotica: the display, ostentatious or slipped off-cuff, of deep-cut gems, nuggets, and dingleberries of random (pop-)cultural knowledge, often dilettantish or overly-specific (see: the preceding entry) in nature; it is one of the most vivid feathers in the plumage of contemporary taste-based peacocking, and should be received skeptically, but reserving backlash until evaluation of contextual relevance and EVVE (entertainment value versus extraneousness) is complete.

9Sort of like a bon mot, but shouted. And sort of dumb.

I Thought I Was Being Romantic

August 28 2009

I Thought I Was Being Romantic

Pathetic tales of misguided sincerity

I Told my boss she could adopt me and then everyone started joking around and laughing!”

– Barry, 49


I Called my teacher ‘mommy,’ now everyone is calling me ‘faggot’! And laughing!”

– Li’l Keith, 8


I Tried to caress my girlfriend’s face while gazing into her eyes; she laughed so hard I slipped out! Again!”

– Arnold, 23


I Bought her eight white roses to celebrate the eight months we’ve temped together. And when I watched the FedEx guy deliver them to her house, she and her husband laughed so hard I dropped my binoculars, almost fell out of the tree! (They broke on impact! Just like my heart!)!/.”

– Martin, 36


I Sent sheep to the slaughter, thinking that that must be love. I told her that I told her that I loved her because it was easier than saying goodbye; I told her that she was playing out of her depth, akin to a little girl trying on her older sibling’s wardrobe. And then I laughed at her!”

– Elvis, 261


I Wrote her poems: three hundred and seventy nine poems! One haiku each day, one major work each month, one year long epic in blank verse. And when I handed them to her– in calfskin, bound– on the occasion of our last day of High School, she laughed at me! Now she’ll know I was real! Threeee Huunnndred Aand Sevvventyyy Niiiiiiine! It was a leeap yearrrrrrrrrrrr! Rrrrrrrrr!rrrrrr! rr.”

– Brian, 17, leaping


I Baked a cake in the shape of her childhood photograph– the one where she didn’t know how to swim. It was a real cake, too– not one of those spun sugar sprayjobs that look like they’d dissolve in the rain. I baked a three-going-on-four dimensional cake in tribute to that one moment: solid, and real, and to quintuple scale. Each detail was re-created in minute perfection and even the air. I baked the air. I baked a perfect simulacrum of that tinge of chlorine and sunscreen and inflatable swimmies and spandex. I baked her father, off to the side, not-pictured; I baked the score of that days Yankees game. And Then Later, when I had finished baking, I remembered that I was trapped, and that however desperately I tried to eat my way out, I would be here forever, accompanied by the dim echo of splashes, and the unmistakable sound of a child’s  laughter!”

– Doug, Infinity/R.I.Cake


I Asked her to dance; she said no! Then she laughed and then I laughed! Now we are married, except she is dead.”

– Ed, 79


I Thought at you so hard every time we caught eyes, sat near, talked, or typed. Whenever we occupied the same (or similar) space a song would play in my head, back of the neck, heart, and bones, and– by thinking it hard enough at you– I thought I could somehow convey exactly, precisely what I couldn’t say!

It didn’t work!”
– A Sad and Stupid Crazy Person, 1,878





1“I Made a “Brilliant Mistake,” although, at the time, it was a fine idea; a woman on the news was really dumb!”

– Declan, 31