Category Archives: Humor

Hapy Thankgivinge blog peeple from Dumbcat!

Hello to peeple of the blogge!

This is me! Dumbcatte!

This is me! Dumbcatte!

Momme sayed I could rite here twoday because she is travelng. She goed to visit my grandprnts for Thaynksgvng. That meens they are her momme and daddy, and also that when they visit us, they pet me on my head and maek me purr lots. I used to be afrayed of her dadde because he has lowd feet and also voyce, but the last tyme he was heere, I was braevecat and he petted me lots and I headbuttted him maeny tiems and he laffed. I did not even hied in the cubbord of pans and pots, and momme sayed I was a very goode boye and gave me many cuddels after they goed home. 

Momme says this is Thanksgivign. On Thankggivng we usually just eat turkeybird and watch a cartoon about a beegle that makes toast and popcoarn for some kids for dinner and momme says, “this is Charlie Brown Thanksgeeving, Dumbcatte” and I don’t know what that meens but this yeer momme is surprising her daddy and goang home at nighttime to say “surprise srprise I am visting” and I will miss her but she sayed “I will be hoam Fridaye Dumbcatte and will give you much treets and hugs” and I sayed “meow” because that is how Dumbcatts say “I loev you Mom mom momme and also I love treets.” 

This is the beegledog making tost and popcorns. I am a littel scared of beegledogs.

This is the beegledog making tost and popcorns. I am a littel scared of beegledogs.

I am writng here twoday because momme sayed that on Thanskgivng you are supposd to write a bloggepost about what you are thankfulled for. I diden’t know what that meened so I asked the squirrle that’s been hanging out on our powrch. “SQUIRRLE!” I said in louwdvoice becuz he is behind a window, “SQUIRRLE WHAT IS THANKFULLED?” and Squirrle said “CHIRP SCOLD CHIRP!” because that is squrrle-talk and it meens “the things you feel lucky to have.” I like Squirrle, he has a tail I want to bYte and pounce on but Momme saes “no no Dumbcatte! You cannot go owtside because of running awaey and also it is cowld.” Momme knows about running awaye and also cowld because she gowes outsideplayces a lot! She is grownup laydee and weares a coat that is soft and smels like sheeps to me. She has to hang it in the clowset because or else I like to sleep on it and get furrs on it and she says “sigh sigh DUMBCATTE! You have mayde my gude wool coat all furrs!” 

Squirrle friend! Why is he alwaeys on our porche? Momme doesn't know why eithre.

Squirrle friend! Why is he alwaeys on our porche? Momme doesn’t know why eithre.

So with the help of Squirrle (THAYNK YOU SQUIRRLE I LIKE YOURE TAYLE TO BYTE IT) I thinked of things I am lucky to have and thankfulled for becuze it is Thaynksgving! Momme will be so prowd of me she will pet my tayle many timez and give me all the treetz! 

ONE. I AM THAYNKful for having many toews. Most cattes only have some toews but I haev ALL THE TOWES! Momme saeyz I am pollydactul and Moeme’s freynd from Britain Engaland Elayne sayz I am Hemmingway catte. All of my toes are good towes and I lyke to scratch things and Momme says “you have ruinede the cowch!” but she doesnot care really becauz this howse is catte frendly, she sayz. 

Do you think this catte is my brother or sistre? HELLO BROTHRE OR SISTRE!

Do you think this catte is my brother or sistre? HELLO BROTHRE OR SISTRE!

TWO. I em thankfull for treetz. They are deleceus. You shuld eet treetz! In my howse, we have treetz at nighttimez. I start to ask momme for them and she says “Not TIME, Dumbcatte!” but I donot know about TYME so I roll on the carpetstuff and then I say, “meiouw?” in a polyte voyce and she says, “it is treettime at EIGHT PEE EMM, Dumbcatte, and right now it is FIVE OH TWO pee emm!” and I donot know what that is means so I just keep asking in MORE and MOAR polyte voices and sometymes this maeks her scoope me up and kiss my bellee and say, “YOU ARE A BEGGAR, DUMBCATTE!” and then I have to get on the flore and lick my bellee furrs because they are messee now. Mommees make your furrs messy but you still love them. Then she gives me treetz and I run all arouwnd the room EETING The treetz and crunching and purring and she laughs and says, “you are liek a treet vacuum” and I eet and purr and crunch because SO GUDE! 

I like theese treetz! They crunch in my teeths.

I like theese treetz! They crunch in my teeths.

THUREE. I am thankfule for warm. Becuz when I was yungcatte, I lived on dirt and it was wintertymes. And it was cowld, and there was snowe. And I had to eat things that smeled badde. And peopel yelled at me and that was skary. And I hidded under a garaeg but it was stille cold and my tummy was hungury and I cut my foot on a sharup thing and it was owch. But in howse with Momme, there is warm! And also blaenkts, and cowches, and bed with Momme, and foods, and treetz, and a bird on a string that teeses me and makes me run all around and byte it and byte it and leep in the air until I am tired, that byrd is tricky and always gets awaye! 

There is that bird! How did it get on the blogge? TRIKCY!

There is that bird! How did it get on the blogge? TRIKCY!

FORE! I am thaynkfel for MOMME! Asweoihegw0hweg 

Please to excuse the cat I falled off the cowch becuz I was excitde. 

I will start over agayne! 

FOURE I AM THANKFUL FOR MOMME! 

This is my momme. I am not in this photo because I was sleepinge. Cats sleep a lot and more a lot.

This is my momme. I am not in this photo because I was sleepinge. Cats sleep a lot and more a lot.

Momme is the best momme and at first I was scayred of her because I was scayred of all people, but then one day I sayed, I like this laydee because she gives me foods and her howse is warme and she lets me sleepe anywhere I want to sleepe and does not yell loudvoyce at me and she did not make me leeve the nice waerm howse so maybe she will not ever do that. So I sneeked out of under the bed with the dust that maked me sneeze and sneeze and I headbutted her fayce when she was sleeping and then I thought o no! She will be madtimes! But she was NOT madtimes and she just laffed and sayed “Dumbcat! Are we friends now?” and petted my furrs and I liked that so much and when she moved out of that howse I was skared! But she taked me with her! To another howse! Then she left that howse and took me to a NEW howse! She does never leave me behind because she is my Momme. And I sleep next to her fayce and she pets me until she falls asleep and sometimes I waek her up by jumping on her and she says “owch Dumbcate that is my spleene!” but it is ok. Because when someone is your Momme they aren’t really mad at you for jumping on their spleen or throwing up on the rug. They just clean it up and say “poor Dumbcatte how is your tummy. Pleese try to throw up on the tile next tieme, my little sweet poetatoe.” 

It is niec to have a mommee and I hope you all haev Momees or Dades, or maybe penguins, they are funnee, or mome says you can also have two mommees or daddees and that is ok and I say ok, who cares, as long as there is petting of Dumbcattes? Twiece the petting is ok with me! I am Dumbcatte! If Mommee marrys a boyperson someday he can pet my furre. I will let him. Do you think he will give me treetz? 

I want a pet pengiune, momme! This one is happey.

I want a pet pengiune, momme! This one is happey.

I am going to sleepe now because tomorrow momee will be home and I miss her and will sleepe on her bed now. I can get under her covers because she is not hear and will not know until she gets home and then she wOUld say “Dumbcatte who unmade the bed, was it a robber?” and I will say “mieouw!” which meenz “yes momme a bad robbere came in while you were gone and sleeped in your bedde it was not me, Dumbcatte!”

ROBBERS, MOMME, I TOLDED YOU!

ROBBERS, MOMME, I TOLDED YOU!

Happy day of turKeys to you all and also thankfulnesses and I hope you are all happeytimes. If you are not happeytimes you should get a pet like a cat or a dogge or a squirele or a penguin or a goat.

Oh, Momme sayz to tell you that SHE is thaenkful for haeving many good jobbes and her familee and her friendz that she lovez so much and for having a year that waz unprediktable and also wonderfulle, and for having all teh love in her lief, then she had teers in her eyez a littel so I headbuttde her and she laffed.

So, in summatione, you should get a pengiune pet.

LOVE DUMBCATTE

This is my authore photo like when you write a booke. I look verey seriuoustimes!

This is my authore photo like when you write a booke. I look verey seriuoustimes!

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Things you (accidentally) learn at a work retreat

I am home from retreating. Sometimes, the best part of going away is coming home. I am comfy on my couch with a VERY relieved Dumbcat hugging my leg in a very “ZOMG DO NOT EVER LEAVE ME AGAIN, MOM” way and DUDE, I was only gone for 28 hours, YOU CAN HANDLE THIS. Silly boy. I’m predicting a night of the cat sleeping wrapped around my face like one of those facehugger alien thingies, only furrier and a lot more likely to give me hairballs.

This would work for a cat, right?

This would work for a cat, right?

Things I learned at the retreat:

  • I am terrible at retreats
  • At one point, I was the person in a group with the “weirdest hobby” and that hobby was writing, which I guess is weird
  • Huh, I had no idea that was weird
  • I guess I’ve been weird for a really, really long time
  • Like, longer than I even KNEW I was weird
  • People really, really dig free alcohol at work functions
  • Like, more than you could possibly imagine
  • I’m completely serious, as in, to the point of falling and vomiting and screaming until 3am
  • It is very hard to sleep when the walls of your hotel room are thin and people are drunk-screaming til 3am
  • You can take a shower, but you still hear the screaming over the shower water
  • Even though I am terrible at work retreats, my team still won “most creative presentation” and I totally won team MVP
  • Are you cheering for me right now? Maybe you didn’t hear me. I WAS VOTED TEAM MVP. This is super-impressive, right? Right.
  • There were improv games, but no trust falls
  • Although people did fall, but because of drunkenness, not trustfulness, although I suppose drunkenness is a KIND of trustfulness
  • The food was supposed to be award-winning, but we wondered if the prize it won was the booby prize
  • Except the desserts, the desserts rocked our worlds like hardcore
  • If you watch Silver Linings Playbook because you don’t want to go to the drunken bacchanal bonfire you will cry all over your face
  • Seriously, how is Jennifer Lawrence so damn luminescent
  • Also, Bradley Cooper has the prettiest eyes ever
  • Once you’ve cried all over your face and you leave your room people think you’ve been having a nervous breakdown
  • Just ignore them, they’re all drunk anyway
  • And then the next day when they’re all green and swaying in the breakfast room you can eat your bacon all obnoxiously to see if you can make them vomit
  • Because secretly you are kind of evil
  • And that’s really ok
  • Because, as mentioned, it is obnoxious to keep people up until 3am by screaming in the lobby
  • Especially when you are at a work retreat and not at Cabo on Spring Break
  • The food for our final meal was bean quesadillas and bean soup and slaw and those are all heavily geared toward gas production so we decided to skip lunch because that’d be one long car-ride of farty
  • I’m telling you, people. FARTY. No one likes that.

These are all important things to have learned, right? What’s that? They’re not what I was there to learn?

Oh. Crap.

Sorry, work retreat.

SORRY.

I am totally the worst.


People Who Are on the Amtrak at 6:55am Going to New York City

I am on the Amtrak at 6:55am going to New York City. I think we can all agree that’s hellaciously early. FINE, not all of you can agree with that. Some of you get up that early daily for whatever reason. Milking cows, maybe. Going to school or work. Tending to children.

Me, I get up between 6 and 6:30 every morning, and when I can, I sleep later. I don’t like waking up early. Never have. Left to my own devices, my internal clock wants me to sleep from about 1am to 9am daily. Unfortunately, this is not how the world works, so I’m forced to work against what I was given at birth. Yawn.

However, there are advantages to taking the train this early in the morning. You get to see all sorts of people.

What sorts of people, you might ask?

Well, it’s nice you asked, because I will TELL you.

THE PEOPLE YOU SEE ON AN EARLY-MORNING AMTRAK TO THE CITY

  • LOUD BUSINESSMAN – Loud Businessman is very important. He also wants to make sure you know just HOW important. So he gets on his cell phone the minute he enters the station and doesn’t get off until…well, I don’t think he gets off ever. As we speak, Loud Businessman is on his cell phone berating someone. “I WILL BE THERE IN A COUPLE OF HOURS! THAT CAN WAIT TIL I ARRIVE! NO, DO NOT SELL ALL THE ORANGE JUICE SHARES!” (I made that part up for those of you who love Trading Places as much as I do.) “THOSE WERE ON THE DESK, CHECK THE DESK! BUY BUY BUY! SELL SELL SELL! I AM IMPORTANT! ARE YOU THERE?! ARE YOU *THERE!?!?!?!*” It’s Loud Businessman’s world. We just live in it, and are forced to be in his earspace.

    MUY IMPORTANTE!

    MUY IMPORTANTE!

  • GUY WITH THE CROUP – it is a little-known fact that, no matter where I sit, I will end up next to someone with some sort of wasting disease. Right in back of me is someone who is hacking up a lung. I am breathing his air, therefore, in 24-48 hours, I will probably have TB and have to go to a sanitorium. That’ll be fun, right? Right. (Also, if you’re on public transportion, it’s nice to cover your mouth when you cough. Just saying.) Also, update, he is now sneezing repeatedly, and seems to be purposely doing it in the space between the seats so it showers me. How thoughtful.

    "Hmm. 104 degrees. I think I'll go on mass transportation."

    “Hmm. 104 degrees. I think I’ll go on mass transportation.”

  • GUY WHO IS RAPPING – there’s a guy who’s listening to music and he’s totally rocking out and every once and a while comes out with some rap lyrics ALMOST under his breath, but not quite. He’s actually not as bothersome as the other two people. He’s at least TRYING to be quiet. Whenever he bursts out into song, he looks really embarrassed about it. I get it. Sometimes I can’t control the mad beatz in my head, either, yo.
  • WOMAN WHO I THINK IS POSSIBLY CRAZY – luckily, she ended up in another car, but in the station, there was a woman who was ducking and weaving and talking to herself and batting at invisible flies. Now, listen, I am used to this on public transportation because I was without a car for years (and people with mental problems are drawn to me – I think I project a safe vibe or something, or maybe they think I’m a kindred soul.) But Amtrak is kind of pricey. So really crazy people aren’t always on it. So, I guess congrats, crazy lady, for having enough money for nice transportation?
  • PEOPLE WHO THINK GETTING ON/OFF THE TRAIN TWO SECONDS BEFORE EVERYONE ELSE WILL GIVE THEM A MAGIC SEAT – people will seriously cut a bitch to get in line here on Amtrak. Thing is, if a train’s crowded, getting on early doesn’t make you any more apt to get a window seat than someone who got on later. Everyone wants a window seat; if the train comes from somewhere else, those window seats are probably all taken, and you’re sitting on the aisle. End of story. Please don’t shove. It’s so early in the morning. My reflexes aren’t even kicked in yet. I’m going to go over like a ninepin.
  • PEOPLE EATING SMELLY FOODS – there is always at least one person eating something fishy, spicy, sour, or fermented. I guarantee you this. Isn’t rule #1 of being a human being not to eat something that’s fragrant around other humans in a confined space? Because I don’t know about you, but I don’t like gagging on your scents for an entire train trip. Bad enough that I can smell the bathroom from where I’m sitting. Blergh.
  • SOMEONE WHO IS SNORING LOUDLY – listen, on the second train, that’s going to be me. I’m exhausted, and the gentle motion of the train makes me sleepy. The last long-distance train I took, I conked out about ten minutes in. I woke up and the WHOLE TRAIN CAR was GLARING at me. My throat hurt, which means I was snoring. (Or maybe sleep-talking; I do that, too.) I was all, “mutter mutter sorry” and then read for the rest of the trip. Can’t help it, folks, blame Amy’s Dad; that’s where the snoring gene comes from. I know it’s unsexy and unladylike. Can’t even help it.

Getting sleepy, jellybeans. Think I’ll try for a little shuteye. Think Loud Businessman can compete with my snoring?

Let’s find out, shall we?


Behaving badly elsewhere

I know, I know. I didn’t blog today. I’ll freely admit why. I got home last night and I was lazy and didn’t feel like it, so instead I screwed around on the internet and watched trash television.

I KNOW! Sometimes I do that. It’s a thing.

Mostly, I was exhausted because on Sunday, I wrote FIVE POSTS. I know! FIVE! It was an epic day of writing, and when I was done, my hands were tired and I think I kind of ran out of words in my head and was pointing at things and grunting rather than using my words like a big girl, because I no longer had any left.

However: the five posts that I wrote (she says humbly) were pretty awesome.

There are three book reviews coming up over the next little while, you got the post yesterday, and then there was a post on Insatiable Booksluts today.

Now, I know some of you saw it, so you can just kick back and grin that you were first-responders. But some of you didn’t, so I wanted to give you the chance to check it out.

Backstory: Susie posted a rant about authors who sign her up for newsletters without her say-so recently.

One of the commenters got pissed. Well, at least I think he did. His grammar’s pretty suspect. But it seems to denote pissiness.

SO pissed, in fact, he called us a VERY BAD WORD.

What word? The eff-word? No. Bitches? Nope. WHORES? Not even. Gasp – SLUTS? Nah.

YOU GUYS, HE DROPPED THE C-BOMB.

Yep. Right there in our comments. Like he took a shit on our nice rug. (That rug really tied the room together.)

Then he was all, “All the best” at the end, like that mitigated the fact he’d (ZOMG SHOCK! ZOMG HORROR!) called us…*whispers*…cunts.

Now, listen. Some blogs might erase that comment. Some blogs might just not reply to it. Some blogs might say something snippy in response, and move on.

Dude. We’re the Insatiable Booksluts. Think we’re going to let that turd just sit there on our pretty rug?

Nope.

Just a heads-up about this – there’s not a single one of us offended by this. Which I have to assume was his intention. “I’ll call ‘em cunts!” he gleefully hissed in his parents’ basement over a 2-liter of Mountain Dew. “That’ll get ‘em! THEY’LL CRY! THAT’S WHAT GIRLS DO!”

Yeah. We totally cried, if by “crying,” you meant “mocked him mercilessly on Twitter, then moved to Facebook, then to Facebook chat, where we shot the shit for hours and laughed to stomach-crampery about the whole thing.”

These are ma ladiez, yo.

So today, my response to Mitch, the Cunt Whisperer, hit Insatiable Booksluts.

It seems to have been well-received, if the stats, comments, tweets, and Facebook shares are any indication. (Seriously, you guys, my phone blew UP today. It’s very hard to keep your Lady Workperson face on when your phone keeps flashing things like “HA HA CUNTINESS!” I mean, I DID it, but I kept grinning like a lunatic. Come to think of it, I always do that over there, it’s when I’m NOT grinning like a lunatic people think there’s something wrong with me, so…take what you will from that.)

I do not think that was Mitch’s intention. Shit, sorry that blew up in your face, Mitch. That’s what happens when you shit on our carpeting, though.

So if you’d like to see me get all cussy (both the words “cunt” and “twat” are used, so if you’re anti-naughtiness, probably don’t pop on over) and check out some EPIC pie-charts and one kick-ass line graph, I highly recommend clicking on over to the post.

Here, I’ll give you a little taste. Like a playground drugpusher, I am.

“Now, I know it’s going to shock you a little, as I’m a Cunt and all, but I also have a brain. I know most Cunts don’t, as the having of vaginas precludes the use of our brain-areas. We’re much too busy thinking of lady-thoughts, like cooking. Baby-making. Pretty things like cross-stitch and crochet and scrapbooking. I’m not saying I DON’T think of those things (I mean, it’s my pesky double-X chromosomes, how can I not?) but I can ALSO think of OTHER things. I’m multitasky as shit.”

I’ll be back soon (tomorrow? Thursday? I do not know, I have lots of things on lots of burners at the moment, and I’m trying not to start a fire) but until then, please check this out. I think you’ll enjoy.

(The comments are kind of the best part, you guys.)

Big old smooches to you all. Hope you’re having the best day.

And remember: you might get the urge to troll someone’s blog…but when you do, you really do open yourself up (no pun intended, given the topic of this post) for mockery. Just something to keep in your brain-area when you’re mulling various forms of douchebaggery.


How many times a week do you shave? If you answer incorrectly, we may have to kill you.

I know! Don’t fret! Here I am! It’s been a busy few days. There was an overnight guest (MOM!) and delicious-dinner-eating and play-reviewing and play-review-writing and accidentally dropping the f-bomb in front of my very religious mom (long story, I get road rage) and Dumbcat-shenanigans (he was VERY LOUD AND NAUGHTY) and manicure-giving (which was actually totally a highlight, more detail to come) and nephew-birthday-attending. And do you know what there was not? Any crying or bathroom-weepery. I am quite proud at how the weekend turned out. The only downside was I didn’t get enough sleep, there was some non-family-related drama I could totally have done without, and I got a weird sunburn where I forgot to apply sunscreen. (Shoulders and the back of my neck. Although I did apply sunscreen there. Apparently, just not enough, or it was JUST SO DAMN HOT I sweated it all off. Who knows.)

We will have WEEKEND RECAP one of these days (it’s a big week full of theater reviews – three in one week, one with a relative I haven’t seen in a while, so THAT’S exciting! – so I’m going to try to squeeze blogging in amongst all my bon vivantery) but today, as promised…

DATING TIPS FROM 1949 for the FELLAS!

Howdy, 40s man, I am here to HELP!

Howdy, 40s man, I am here to HELP!

If you all recall back many moons ago (ok, I think it was Saturday) we discussed Esquire’s dating tips for the lay-deez in 1949. If you don’t remember, you can click here and catch up, or you can read the following recap: foursomes, restaurant rage, ninja-murder, don’t hold too much liquor, always talk to bores. And young Brando is hot. But, as one of my VERY INTELLIGENT COMMENTERS mentioned, I totally forgot a hottie from back in the day; I will rectify that now.

Young Paul Newman. I am SO SORRY for the oversight; he was a little too young for the movies in 1949, but we can look at him anyway. RAWR.

Young Paul Newman. I am SO SORRY for the oversight; he was a little too young for the movies in 1949, but we can look at him anyway. RAWR.

So! Our tips for the ladies were totally helpful; I’m sure I’m going to be getting invited to many tip-related weddings soon. I didn’t forget you, fellas! I know you’re all “OMG AMY HELP! I AM CLUELESS IN THE WAYS OF CATCHING A LADYPERSON!”

Well, tip one is, don’t say “catching” or “ladyperson,” but I digress.

Esquire was totally helpful for men of the 40s, too! 

So without further ado, let’s see what we’ve got for you! (That may or may not be a euphemism, depending on how well this goes.)

Do you use the continental approach, based on the belief that an immediate pass flatters a woman?

I can assure you THIS Continental would never bore anyone!

I can assure you THIS Continental would never bore anyone!

This is the average man’s greatest mistake. If a pass, on first acquaintance, doesn’t insult a girl it at least bores her.

OK. I’m already confused. What exactly is meant by “pass?” Like, a bad pickup line? Or, since it was the 40s, just talking to her? I’m going to assume it means bad pickup line. And if that’s the case, then, yes. It probably will insult her. (Or, more likely, make her roll her eyes, laugh, and walk away.) I don’t know if it would BORE her, though. I mean, watching paint dry is boring. Having a guy say “Are your legs tired? ‘Cause you been running through my dreams all night” is ANNOYING and CLICHÉD, but not BORING.

Do you show your real fondness for a girl by telling her about her bad points and advising her how to improve them?

This is again an error. If you must tell her you hate her perfume or how she does her hair, wrap it up in heavy sugar coating.

Hee! “A real fondness.” Yes. I find the people that criticize my bad points are my most closest friends, confidantes, and LOVAHS. Also, “if you must tell her you hate her perfume or how she does her hair…” YOU MUSTN’T DO THAT. I suppose if you don’t like the perfume scent she wears (I mean, we’ve all known someone who wears a scent we’re not keen on, even though they, as a person, rock), maybe give her a nice bottle of perfume you DO like, and say, “I smelled this and thought you’d smell amazing wearing it” and when she does wear it, compliment it a lot, I don’t know. I’ve never had anyone cuss me out for my perfume choices. (Because DAMN, I smell amazing. I’m good at perfume.) If you don’t like how she does her hair – SHUSH IT RIGHT UP. Seriously. Or go date someone else. Her hair is none of your business, just like your combover to hide what we all know is a damn bald spot isn’t ours. Stop being controlling.

Are you getting the feeling I’m going to get angrier at the male advice than I did at the female advice? Me too.

Do you show your devotion to a woman by holding her hand or putting your arm around her when her friends are present?

Please don’t. Even a girl who is affectionate in private dislikes public mauling.

Is this a 40s thing? I don’t know that this is a big deal now. I don’t know that putting your arm around someone or holding their hand is a public “mauling.” Well, unless you’re a bear, or like Vincent from Beauty and the Beast. Are you Vincent from Beauty and the Beast? Then I can’t help you with dating advice, go hang out in the sewers.

He seems very mauly, right?

He seems very mauly, right?

Can you describe the dress or hat worn by the last two girls you took out?

If not, notice and comment on the next few. Women appreciate having men notice the efforts they make over their appearance.

I’m so glad we don’t have to wear hats in this day and age. I hate hats. They always make my head hot, and make my hair all squashed in the hat-area. Is this question a test? “QUICK! DESCRIBE CLOTHING ITEMS!” Yes. It’s nice to say nice things about what your date is wearing. I don’t take umbrage with this question. I do, however, take umbrage with hats.

One of these is not a hat. It's a cowl. You can't pull one over on me!

One of these is not a hat. It’s a cowl. You can’t pull one over on me! Get it? Cowl? Pull one over? HA!

Do you have a double code about drunkenness for men and women when they are together?

If a man has to get drunk, he’ll be more attractive if he restricts this behavior to stag company.

We gonna hang? Cool. But leave your Zimas at home, dude, they didn't even have those in the 40s.

We gonna hang? Cool. But leave your Zimas at home, dude, they didn’t even have those in the 40s.

Whoa. Where are you going to find all those male deer? Like, are you going to break into a zoo? You could get totally injured, not to mention, it’s not at all cool to get drunk around wild animals. They might impale you with their horns. That’s possible also a euphemism.

Oh, stag is an old-timey way to say “only penises need apply?” Great, good, sorry for the confusion. So this tip is telling you not to get drunk around women. Well, I guess. Whatever. That seems old-fashioned, but this is the 40s, what can I tell you.

Do you sometimes take a girl out on parties of four or more, as a change from twosomes?

A good idea. A girl may feel hurt if you never ask her to meet your other friends.

MORE TALK OF FOURSOMES! Or even MORE than foursomes! ORGIES, PEOPLE, THE FORTIES ARE HAVIN’ AN ORGY!

Yes, a girl might feel hurt if you never ask her to meet your other friends. She might think you’re keeping her as a dirty secret in the closet, only good for twosomes and not good enough for PUBLIC twosomes. OR ORGIES. Unless, again, you’re Vincent from Beauty and the Beast; then the girl might be all “Yeah, let’s stay in the sewer and play Risk again tonight, what do you say? I think I’m getting really good at it.”

This is the NEW Vincent. He's not as mauly. But his eyes turn yellow when he's pissed, or having sex. I mean, so I hear. I don't...um...watch this show or anything. Heh.

This is the NEW Vincent. He’s not as mauly. But his eyes turn yellow when he’s pissed, or having sex. I mean, so I hear. I don’t…um…watch this show or anything. Heh.

Do you make distinctions between the jokes you’d tell a man in the club and those you’d tell a girl in a park automobile?

Almost no women like bathroom jokes or jokes with dirty words.

What’s a park automobile? Like, a park ranger’s car? Oh, it’s a typo and it means PARKED automobile? Were there no copyeditors in 1949? Urgh. Probably they were all women and they were busy buying hats and having foursomes.

PARK CAR!

PARK CAR!

ALMOST no women like bathroom jokes or jokes with dirty words. Especially when you’re in a park automobile. Because nothing says “put your hand on my gear shift, little lady, let’s get this old-timey automobile up to 40 miles per hour” than “HA HA DID YOU HEAR THE ONE ABOUT THE HUGE TURD?”

But apparently, some women must like that. Because almost means SOME do. So keep looking, bub, and someday you’ll find your lady of flatulence.

Do you tell a woman she’s beautiful, even if she isn’t?

This habit hurts nobody and makes a lot of girls happier.

Well, it hurts the girl you’re lying to, who now thinks you think she’s beautiful when she apparently is a hosebeast. Stop lying. If she’s not beautiful, just don’t mention it. Is that so hard? Talk about something else, for the love of Pete. Also, why are you dating her if you don’t think she’s pretty? Were you blinded in a terrible acid experiment in science class or something?

Do you ask an attractive girl — who is probably busy most evenings — to call you up sometime when she’s free?

Don’t do this: you may always ask a popular girl far enough ahead of time to find a free evening.

Also, she probably has the clap, so ask out the dog-faced girl from the last question, you’ll be less apt to have your dick rot off.

Do you plan your evenings with a woman ahead of time or leave the choice of amusement up to her?

It’s much more flattering for a man to announce the evening’s program, showing he has given thought to her amusement.

“TONIGHT WE WILL BE AMUSING OURSELVES WITH GAMES OF CHANCE, AND ALSO EATING SHELLFISH.”

“But I’m allergic to shellf-”

“SHUSH. I MAKE THE PLANS, AS I HAVE A PENIS.”

Do you believe it necessary in the modern age to push in a girl’s chair for her and to light her cigarettes?

These small courtesies mean a lot to a girl.

“May I light your cigarette?”

“I don’t smoke.”

SMOKE IT, I SAID!

SMOKE IT, I SAID!

“YOU’LL SMOKE AND LIKE IT. ESQUIRE SAYS IT MEANS A LOT TO YOU. NOW STICK THIS UNFILTERED CANCER STICK IN YOUR MOUTHHOLE WHILE I POKE A MATCH NEAR YOUR FACE, BABYLOVE.”

Do you ever tell a girl you love her, under the spell of the moment, when you suspect that you won’t tomorrow?

This is a dirty trick and if you do, you ought to be ashamed of yourself. Moreover, the word will soon get around to other women.

Is anyone else getting the feeling that “under the spell of the moment” means…um…in the midst of…unloading?

No? Just me? Great. Good. Grand.

Oh, maybe it means in the HEAT of the moment. You go, Asia. You go, you timeless bastards.

Oh, maybe it means in the HEAT of the moment. You go, Asia. You go, you timeless bastards.

Well, we learned up above that girls don’t like things that are dirty, except some do, so I guess keep looking for the filthy ones. And stop lying to women. You know we’re gossipmongers, and we’ll tell everyone you’re a lying liar who lies about being in the spell of moments.

How many times a week do you shave?

Once a day is minimum, if you care what women think of you.

Forty-two times a day is OCD, if you care what doctors think of you.

(Also, did 40s women hate beards? HEY! 40s WOMEN! I WILL TAKE YOUR BEARDY REJECTS AS I TOTALLY HAVE A BEARD-LOVE GOING ON ALL OVER HERE!)

Would you dine a girl expensively and not buy her flowers, or economize on the place and bring her at least a gardenia?

Most women would prefer having flowers and less to eat.

“I brought you effing ROSES, the least you could do is eat from the free BREAD BASKET and stop WHINING about being HUNGRY!”

(I’m also in tears of laughter about the “at LEAST a GARDENIA” thing. The poor sad gardenia! The least of the flowers! I mean, it could have been road-weeds. Count your blessings, I guess.)

Aw, they're totally pretty, too! What's with the gardenia-hatred?

Aw, they’re totally pretty, too! What’s with the gardenia-hatred?

If your hostess at a dance is obviously having a whirl, do you consider it necessary to dance with her?

You always should, as a matter of good manners.

“Having a whirl” is most definitely a euphemism, right?

Yeah, I thought so. Remember what I said earlier about the clap, boys.

Do you try to arouse a girl’s interest by boasting of your success with other women?

Don’t ever do this!

Listen, I take offense. You NEED to arouse women. It’s totally mandatory.

What? Oh, read the rest of the sentence?

Shit. Yeah, don’t talk about all the wick-dipping you’ve been doing all over town with the party hostesses, guys.

Jeez, I have like the worst reading comprehension ever today.

Do you consider it a young girl’s own business whether she gets tight and is indiscreet when she’s out with you?

Keep an inexperienced girl from getting tight, if you have to spank her, and don’t let any woman become indiscreet through liquor. Triumphs over drunken women don’t help any man.

I don’t…what can I even say about this one…um…there’s “tight” and there’s spanking and…

Well, other than SO MANY NAUGHTINESSES GOING ON, at least it’s not advocating date-rape. Way to go, 40s, way to go.

If a girl you’re fond of asks you to be nice to her cousin with adenoids and buck teeth do you cut her off your list?

Not pleasant, but if you rally around and give Cousin Belle a whirl, you’ll soon be known as the nicest man in town.

Or the biggest loser who does whatever anyone tells him. Or, if you follow the instructions above, you’re totally gonna get Cousin Belle preggers, and THEN you’re stuck, dude. Put a raincoat on that thing if you have to tell the ugly girl she’s beautiful, is all I’m saying, here.

Also, “not pleasant.” Well, I bet Cousin Belle doesn’t think it’s especially pleasant to have to hang with you, you douchekebob.

If you had a quarrel with a girl — in which she is clearly in the wrong — will you wait for her to apologize before calling her up or risk being a door mat and do it first?

Be a door mat — it’s easier for you to call a girl than for her to call you.

“In which she is clearly in the wrong.”

As they are. As they ALWAYS are.

It’s easier for you to call her? Why, is she chained up in the basement or something? Has someone cut off all her dialin’ fingers?

Oh. Because PRIDE. Because STUPIDLY MISPLACED LADY-PRIDE. Gotcha.

Well! What did we learn TODAY, men?

Um. Mostly, I don’t know about all of you, but I learned I have no interest in dating a 40s man, even if he’s a super-hot time traveler who looks like Newman or Brando. Because he’s going to set my hair on fire, not let me eat while shoving flowers in my face, take me out in park cars while restraining himself from making fart jokes, be all clean-shaven and obsessive about it, and insult both my hair and my perfume.

All of these? Total recipes for the hotness. Right? Right, ladies? Ladies? Where are you? You all ran off with young Newman, didn’t you. DAMMIT. Don’t come running back to me if he never lets you drink and expects you to wear all the hats.

These women don't look as upset as I would to have been decapitated and put in hatboxes. Also, one of them is wearing a Robin Hood hat, I think. Hmm. Perplexing.

These women don’t look as upset as I would to have been decapitated and put in hatboxes. Also, one of them is wearing a Robin Hood hat, I think. Hmm. Perplexing.


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