Guys like to deal in statements, in commands, in Jen Aniston cleavage references.  We’ll be the ones asking the questions, thank you very much.  Everyone else can shut the hell up – including and especially every late night host not named Conan O’Brien.  Don’t ask us where we want to go for lunch, what we’re wearing tonight, or what time we should leave for the funeral.  If we knew/cared, we’d be doing it already.

There’s no question that questions suck, but, as with all societal ills (and Shia Labeouf movies), there are some that suck more enthusiastically than others.  For example, “Do you like it when I do my hair like this” isn’t necessarily as bad as “How come your Facebook status still says ‘single’” but it’s a far sight worse than “What day is it?”  And don’t even get me started on credibility killers like “why do guys think it’s hot when two girls kiss” or “do you think you could date a girl who was still in high school?”

And yet, even these are not the worst offenders.  It gets much, much worse.  Allow me to present, for your consideration, the worst question in the English language.

“Hey, can I ask you something?”

For starters, it’s a question about asking a question, and, as such, is meaningless and entirely unnecessary.  But that’s not the worst of it.  I can deal with unnecessary.  Katy Perry is unnecessary and I still like her.  No, the problem with this question is the specter of doom that comes with it.  It never comes alone and it never comes in peace.  No one ever says, “hey can I ask you something – are you gonna eat the rest of that?”  Or “hey, can I ask you something – how bout them Packers?”

When you hear “hey, can I ask you something”, especially within the context of a dating relationship, you can be sure that a heavy conversation is on the way.  She wants to talk about her mean boss, her hot sister, or whether or not you’ve read that Joshua Harris book she gave you.  Or maybe it’s not that.  Maybe she just wants to talk about “us.”

“Hey can I ask you something – how come you never use your ‘pookey-poo voice’ when we’re at Buffalo Wild Wings with your friends?”  “Hey can I ask you something – if I was paralyzed in a car crash that totally wasn’t my fault, would you still find me attractive?”  It’s like the 4^th Horseman of the Apocalypse – “Its rider’s name was Death, and Hell followed close behind him.” (Rev. 6:8)

This is why, when asked “hey, can I ask you something”, everything inside a guy wants to scream, “No.  NO!  A thousand times, NO!!  In the name of all that is pure and holy, please do not ‘ask me something.’”  But we can’t say that.  Saying that would be an admission of guilt.  So we say “yes” and we turn to face the firing squad.  For my money, I don’t know if there’s a more terrifying moment in human existence than the seconds that pass from the utterance of “hey, can I ask you something” to the asking of the actual question.  Maybe being buried alive.  But probably not.

And it’s all so easily avoidable!  Got something serious to talk about?  Did we say/do/drink something that’s been eating you up inside for the past month?  Just come out with it!  Skip the intro, skip the solicitation of permission – just ask the damn question. We don’t want to talk about it.  We don’t even want to think about it.   But we’re going to anyway.  This is your world; we’re just living in it.  You know it.  We know it.  The people sitting next to us at Panda Express know it.  So let’s just get it over with.

Because, honestly, can I tell you something?

We really don’t care.  Really.

The social universe has an unspoken balance in place that ensures that life makes sense. We hang out with people as cool as we are, we date within our acceptable range, and people that are born into wealth and status run our countries. When some son of a bitch tries to upset that balance, bad things happen. Remember the French Revolution? That happened because one of Quasimodo’s descendants landed a smoking-hot art model. The Civil War? Some mustachioed sea donkey from the North decided she wanted to date a studly land owner from Alabama.  Name any natural disaster and it can be traced back to some fugly idiot not following the rules of romance. If you mess with the balance, the universe compensates with blood.

Despite this delicate equilibrium, matchmaking is never perfect. Occasionally it is so uneven that it elicits a deep sense of injustice from our communal soul, sort of like any time Keanu Reeves gets another acting gig. You know something isn’t right. You can feel it. Someone is getting something they don’t deserve.

So, you walking dumpster, how do you make things right once you have a hottie in your white-knuckled, kill-me-to-take-it grip? How do you cope with dating someone that is hotter than you? Grab your Moleskine and take a seat, my child. We have much to discuss.

One rule: Over Compensate
She’s a 10 and you’re a 3. That’s a pretty sizable gap, almost as significant as the one between your two front teeth. You’re going to need to string a rope-bridge across that dark chasm. When people see you with your deafeningly hot significant other, the comments will go something like this:

“Damn, (he/she) is so (hot/attractive/sexcellent). Why is (he/she) with that Seth Rogen look alike? Well, I guess (he/she) is at least (fill in the blank).”

That blank can be filled with a few different things that will help even the score between you and your walking fantasy.

That is one unattractive dude.

1. Get in ridiculous shape.
You can’t help having a Haitian Earthquake for a face, but you can blast your pecks into beautiful oblivion. Work out constantly, get really into triathlons, get ab implants – whatever you want. You need to work your way into the “butterface” zone so people may be able to shrug off the 7 point difference between you and the Greek sculpture you’re dating.

2. Get rich and/or famous.
Ideally this would happen before you start dating a walking masterpiece, but if you somehow win the lottery before buying the ticket you still have options. Are you talented? You’d better hope you are. It doesn’t matter if you’re the world’s greatest tap dancer or if you start the next Google, you just need to be on top of something. It can even be something nerdy like math or writing internet humor, people won’t care as long as they have a good reason not to kill you for upsetting cupid’s system. Hell, you may even be able to get away with being a second or third string celebrity/musician/mogul, you’ll just have to deal with more public anger and ridicule than you would have if you were Seal.

Apparently he's a great musician.

3. Get a horrible disease.
If all else fails, there’s always the “Make-A-Wish Foundation” route. This is the Hail-Mary of dating-up excuses, but it is also one of the hardest with which to argue. Example:
“Damn, that girl is fine. What’s she doing with that retarded hippopotamus?”
“Bro, you’re an asshole. That guy has EbolasyphillAIDS. He’s already died like three times.”
You’re clearly not otherwise qualified to bask in the magical fairy-glow of hotness that shines forth from your spouse, but somehow you’ve earned it by suffering so hard that even Job says “yikes, that sucks.”

Follow these rules and you might be able to avoid getting hit by a meteor for dating someone that even blind people can tell is better looking than you.

Enjoy pointing out who got the sweeter deal in a relationship? Roll on over to SheWonHeWon.com and vote on hotness to your heart’s content!

My plan this afternoon was to write a painfully hilarious, staggeringly brilliant article that laid bare the frivolity of the Midwestern ethos through the symbolic milieu of stop sign right-of-way etiquette.  It would have been sweet, trust me.  Unfortunately for all of us, I was trying to write this post at the same Starbucks that a pair of local high schoolers had selected as the location for their breakup conversation.

I got as far as “If there’s one thing the Third World does right, it’s…” when I realized that any attempts at coherent thinking were futile.  Not wanting to waste my time or my vanilla latte, I will instead be describing for you the details of this star-crossed couple’s conversation and we shall see what universal truths we can extract from this unfolding human drama.

If I’ve interpreted the heavy sighs, pouty faces, and vague accusations (“You always do this,” “See, this is what I’m talking about” “You look gross when you cry”) correctly, it appears that this relationship was done in –  like so many relationships before it – by a disagreement surrounding the proper observation of the Yuletide Festival.  He apparently did not understand that Her extended family is the most important thing in the world to Her, and She did not understand that He could care less about what was important to Her.

He compassionately stated his utter disdain for all these “serious conversations” they have to have.  She expressed her sincere desire that he stop behaving like an infant.  He inquired as to why she had to make a big deal out of everything, proposing instead that these things be discussed objectively and without emotion, perhaps not even at all.  She retorted that it was his inability to discuss weighty matters  that led to these arguments and postulated that perhaps “[they] can’t keep doing this.”

This proclamation was followed by the first intermission.  He spent a minute or so looking around and doodling with his finger on the frost covered window.  She spent the break in silent reflection; no doubt thinking of all the chick flicks this fight reminded her of.  He opened the second act with an impassioned monologue recounting the multiple trips he had made to visit her last semester, the fancy dinner he had squired her to on the previous evening, and her propensity to freak out about everything.  He closed by making specific reference to the fact that “all [her] family does is go to church.”

She gave due consideration to the merit of his statements and then requested that he “kiss [her] ass.”  (Author’s note: It is also possible that she said “I miss class,”  “Christmas past,” or any number of similar phrases.  She spoke softly and the acoustics were poor.)  Before allowing him time to comply or refuse, She speculated that perhaps He was missing Her point entirely.  Her only desire was for Him to (a) spend some time with her and her family, (b) attempt to meet Her at some unstated midway point, and (c) start taking this union seriously.  Having heard these demands, He politely requested that, if possible, She refrain from freaking out during any and all future interactions.

At this point they took their second intermission.

Sadly, it was during this second intermission that my cover was blown.  He spotted my unobtrusive hideout at the adjacent table and suggested that I take a photograph as it would be a more permanent memento.  I rejoined that my blog post would be souvenir enough.  He then said something about “sticking [my] grass.” (Again, I could have misheard.)  He proposed to his lady friend that they continue their discussion elsewhere and the two exited the store stage left.

So, you ask, how does this stirring scene conclude?  Do they work it out?  Do they part ways bitterly and unfriend each other on Facebook?  I haven’t the slightest.  Like the number of licks it takes to get to the tootsie roll center of a tootsie pop – the world will never know.  For what it’s worth though, I’m pulling for the latter.

I digress. The point is, I’ve been busy. The content on the site has been mostly driven by Kent and hilarious contributors. I receive a loud voicemail every other day from Kent that is almost entirely comprised of vulgarities and racial epithets that don’t apply to me. I’m sorry buddy, but you just can’t coerce hilarity out of someone. It has to come from inspiration.

And well, I found some inspiration the other day. The following is my commentary on a list from a website called “The Frisky” about what you should teach your sons about women. What kind of website has that kind of ridiculous name? Good question. It’s a site by women, for women. Anytime a woman writes something about how men work, what men think, or generally anything about men, you can almost guarantee that it’s completely wrong. This list is a decent example of that, although I do agree with some of what it says. The rest of it… well… You’ll see. Here it is. The list itself will be in bold, my comments will be in italics. Bon Appetit, gluttons.

1. Pick your battles.

Right on. Some stuff just isn’t worth the blood and violence. Like with Iraq, you know? After we got into the thick of it we realized, “hey, this might have been better to avoid.” Love is like that. Love is like Iraq. Yeah, that’s it. Remember that, all you single kids. Love is like Iraq.

2. Walk on the outside (closer to the street) of your female companion.

Also a good point. Although I’m not sure that the ladies over at The Frisky know the origins of that rule – it started back in the day when roads weren’t paved. The man walked on the outside in case there was mud or water in the crappy streets. If there was a splash from a passing horse or cart, he’d take the brunt of it. See that? TTM just educated you. You’re officially not wasting your time.

3. Saying “You’re being crazy” is never an appropriate response, unless you want her to go postal on you.

Hmmm… I mean, I get what she’s saying here. That’s probably not a productive thing to say in an argument, but essentially point #3 says that calling a woman crazy makes her crazy… which in effect proves the statement correct, doesn’t it? And going “postal” usually refers to really violent actions, i.e. a disgruntled postal worker shooting a bunch of people. So what you’re saying, Friksy (which coincidentally was also the name of my first dog, RIP) is that calling a woman crazy will turn her into a murdering psychotic.

4. Cooking, cleaning, and taking care of kids are things men can actually do as well as women.

True, true, maybe. Maybe it’s just me, but when my Dad would take care of us while my Mom was sick or out of town, it was a drastically different experience involving lots of microwaved food and diapers made out of newspaper.

5. Keep backup supplies of quality chocolate in the house for her to raid.

True. Chocolate is like catnip for women.

6. Buying tampons and other feminine products shouldn’t embarrass you –everyone knows they’re not for you.

Pshhh! How do they know they’re not for me?! I’m not buying that crap, like I’m gay or something. Chhh. Dumb chicks. (Seriously though, dudes don’t like doing this because it’s kind of weird and gross, not because they’re afraid people will think they’re bleeding out of their vagina.)

7. Women like compliments and gifts.

Men like beer and nudity. And compliments and gifts.

8. Earning less than her shouldn’t be emasculating.

Earning less than him shouldn’t activate the inferiority complex that your loveless father ingrained in you as a child.

9. Be on time, even if she usually isn’t.

That way you can make her feel really guilty about always being late and use it as a tool to manipulate her! Brilliant, Frisky!

10. Don’t be a pouty puppy when shopping with her.

Don’t make him go shopping with you if you don’t want to deal with him inevitably hating it. Studies have shown, actually, that women enjoy shopping because for them it’s a sensory experience – they enjoy the colors and textures of the items, making the experience very stimulating for them.  Mens’ brains, however, aren’t wired to appreciate the same stimuli. Suck it, Frisky.

11. Find out what her favorite flower is.

Conceded. Good point. Otherwise you’d never have a good card to pull out when you screw something up.

12. If you like her, then don’t buy her shoes; it’s bad luck.

Sounds like someone is inserting a little bit of their own personal narrative into this guide. I feel like some dude’s name should be italicized at the end of that statement.

13. Smiling and nodding aren’t the same as listening.

Thought vomiting isn’t the same as talking.

14. It’s OK to cry in front of her, but keep the blubbering to a minimum.

Wow. “Be vulnerable, but only to the extent of novelty. Any real vulnerability isn’t welcome.” Someone is a little dysfunctional.

15. Personality goes a long way.

Trying to justify your ugly boyfriend, huh?

16. At some point she’ll be more important than your mother.

Unless your name is Oedipus! BAM!

17. You will never completely understand women.

That’s because they’re crazy. Oh, no! Please don’t shoot me!

18. Oh yeah, and no woman will ever be good enough for my baby!

I don’t even know what the hell this is about. Freud? Where are you?

Isn’t love amazing? It really is. Nothing else like it. Not even drugs. It’s a rare and beautiful thing when you finally meet that special someone. Who knows where cupid struck you both with his arrow? Maybe you had a class together. Maybe you met through a friend. Maybe you met on Myspace. Whatever the medium upon which your personal Romeo and Juliet began (except without the mutual suicide!), I’m sure you’ve experienced just how hard it is to keep that fireball of romance to yourself. Luckily for you, we here at The Talking Mirror are in the self-help business and have come up with a guide just for you and your boo bear.*

Step One: Always Maintain Physical Contact
No matter what happens, never forget this step. Your love will explode into a dust of broken promises and insecurities you never knew you could have. Wherever you are, whatever you’re doing, whoever you’re with; none of it matters. The rule always applies. You must always be touching each other. It doesn’t have to be normal or even practical. It just has to be. Common examples:

The “arm around the waist even while walking, running, swimming, or sitting.” This is a pretty common choice amongst the love-stricken. Keep your arm around your lover’s waist no matter how inconvenient it may get, even as you try to run up the escalator or go through airport security. If you don’t, they will disappear instantly. Guaranteed.

The “constant hand-hold.” While more subtle than the arm around the waist, the hand-hold is no less dedicated. No matter what happens, you never let go of that hand. Got sweaty palms? Tough crap, son. You think love is for the weak? Let me tell you, it’s not. Walking through a crowd? You hold on for dear life. What if you get separated?! I… I can’t even bear the thought. Do whatever you have to in order to maintain the hand-hold. Clothes-hang a passer-by, knock over a food stand, step directly on the neck of a puppy – it doesn’t matter. You know what matters? Never letting go. If you let go, they’ll know that you don’t love them anymore and never did.

The “touch, just because.” This move really only belongs in a sitting position and ideally when you’re with a large group of people that obviously don’t know enough about how much you love each other. First, you must be sitting next to each other. Gosh, that was a dumb thing for me to tell you to do! There’s no way two people in love could ever sit anywhere but next to each other! You knew that. Sorry. Anyway, the important part is to try to stay within reason while still maintaining contact. A hand on the knee, shoulders touching, hand affectionately scratching the back, or toes intertwined: take your pick, it’s all golden and will ensure that your love will stay alive forever and ever and ever and ever.

Step Two: Constantly be Together
Remember when you weren’t in love? I know, me neither! But seriously, try to imagine. You were one person. Three weeks later, you’re in love. Know what you are now? A two person unit. Friends wanna hang out? They get the packaged deal. All or nothing, ladies and gentlemen. These two hearts are now one heart. Know what happens if they separate? They freaking die. And it’s bloody. Nobody wants that. Maybe you’re still in high school or college. Guess what? It’s time to go visit your adviser/counselor to make sure you have all the same classes. And, as we said before, you obviously have to sit next to each other. Maybe you’re at a party. Do you mingle with the other guests? Do you go downstairs to play Rock Band with the bro’s? Do you use the restroom? Absolutely not. You sit or stand together in one section of the party for the entirety of your stay. If people want to talk to you, they can come to you. You should also leave the party relatively early because you “had plans,” which should mean that you’re going to snuggle up on the couch and watch Scrubs on DVD.

Step Three: Let the World (Internet) Know
It’s time to show the entire world just how much you love each other via the intertron.

3.1) First and foremost, update your Facebook and Myspace relationship statuses. If you don’t do this, your relationship is a lie.
3.2) Next, change your profile picture to one that features you and your soul mate. This can be any sort of picture – laughing together, making silly faces using your macbook’s camera, or maybe a formal pose from prom or homecoming or when you went to see High School Musical. There’s one profile picture that trumps them all, though. It will tell the world that your love is so lovey and warm and real and eternal that really, no one else could understand it. What is it, you ask? The kissing picture. That’s right. You get some lucky bystander to snap a pic of you two smooching and make that your profile picture. Trust me. The second anyone sees that picture they’ll say to themselves “Wow. That’s not nauseating at all. That’s beautiful. That’s the kind of love I wish I had.”
3.3) And finally, it’s time to post affectionate things on each other’s walls. The following are real life examples from people whose love obviously conquers all, even grammar and spelling.

so i kinda sorta maybe rEAllY love YOU! miss you boo. 3 weeks and counting….1 year and 53 days and counting till something else and HAPPY four months. gah, i love you boo. xoxo*

go to bed you drunkbutttttt. i’m still up! oh man ,i shouldnt have drank that code red. hope you are sleeping soundly as i’m sure you are. you are a funnyyybunnny. love you boo bear.*

remember that one time you were in osh kosh (bi gosh) and i missed you a lot cuz you were super busy? ya, well i’m glad thats in the past and i get to talk to you for HOURS today :) i love you babe. miss you (13 days!)*

As you can tell, this kind of love-laced poetry cannot be fictionalized. It can only be inspired. If you follow this guide, you too can hope to one day achieve this, the highest level of romantic nirvana. Tune in next week for another guide to coping with something that you obviously need help coping with.

*Denotes direct, vomit-inducing quotes.

There’s a little phenomenon I’ve noticed among women that I’ve found troublingly pervasive. It seems to be like some kind of mental infection. I guess they call that insanity, huh? Anyway, girl after girl, all over the country, they seem to suffer from the same disturbing delusion that is destroying more relationships every day. It is this delusion, not the gays, that is responsible for the degradation of marriage in today’s society.

The habitual crime is thus: Women believe that it is funny to men when they use fake accents.

Oh my gawd! I sound British, but I'm not! Hahahahahaahhaha!!!!!!1

I’m going to begin with the cold hard truth, ladies. Your accents – British, French Russian, whatever Asian accent it is that you think you’re doing – are not funny to men. Your girlfriends may laugh, but your girlfriends also like Matthew McConaughey and Kate Hudson movies. Do you see what I’m saying? Follow the logical progression here.

Y’all can get together and watch How to Lose Ghosts of Girlfriends While Failing to Launch in 10 Days and pretend that you talk like a gay German all you want, just don’t include us. There are plenty of things that we know that you do that we don’t want to hear about or participate in. One of those things is driving. I know you do it, but it’s terrifying to me, so I’d rather block it out. Another is voting. Our whole country has been suffraging since the 19th Amendment passed, that’s a fact. There’s a large group of other activities that involve the bathroom that I don’t care to think about enough to name, but I will tell you that showering is not a part of that group.

Then there are the things girls do when they’re “out with the girls” on “girl’s night.” Unless girl’s night involves showering, pillow fights, or cooking, we’re probably better off not knowing. I’m not telling you to stop doing those things, I’m just asking you to keep it within the circle of protective estrogen where those sorts of activities are kosher.

I can already hear the protests from some silly, silly girls: “My boyfriend thinks my accents are hilarious!”

No, no he doesn’t. Your boyfriend does, however, understand that sometimes women force men to lie to them. He probably learned that when you first said “My cousin Cheryl is so pretty, don’t you think?” or “This dress from high school still fits me, right?” If you wanted honest answers you’d be asking honest questions. All you really want is for him to affirm things you know aren’t true to compensate for your daddy issues or your eating disorders or your multiple personalities or whatever it is that makes you insecure and prone to impersonation based humor. So, because he’s a smart man, he picks his battles and laughs when you respond as a Ukrainian woman, even though he dies a little inside.

And don’t even start with the “double standard” crap, you Lifetime watchers. I keep my fart jokes, objectification of women, and excessive vulgarity with Dude’s Night. Maybe I laugh at accents that some of my bros do. Maybe I do some myself when I’m with my bros. You’ll never know, baby, because that time is for bros and not for hos.

To clarify, when I say “baby” I am of course referring to “any interested woman,” because due to some scientific mystery I am still single.

spelling "hot" incorrectly means it's sexier

Man, look at her over there, being all hott and stuff. Mmmm hmmm, hott with two t’s. Don’t you wish you could talk to her? Maybe for extended periods of time, perhaps via a telephonic device? That sounds like a fun idea. But how do you get to that point? It’s a treacherous trail to blaze, son. If you’re a total sissy, I mean. Then it’s treacherous. If you’re a sweet master of romance like myself, it’s just another phone number for my little black book. And by “little” I mean “the size of most dictionaries.”

You’re going to want to print this guide out, fold it up, and put it in your wallet. Discreetly pull it out and unfold it when you’re at a bar, a coffee shop, or Victoria’s Secret, having with you a step by step guide to getting that babe’s digits. Another idea – this is progressive, but it’ll show you’ve got heart – tattoo a summarized list on your forearm. That way, when you get this chick’s numero (that’s number in Spanish) and you fall in love Eharmony-style, you can show her that tatt and say “baby, that’s how bad I wanted to know your mind.” She’ll be gushing, friend. Gushing. It’s time. Walk with me.

Step One: Preparation
Before you move in for the kill, you have to make sure you’re fully prepared for the game of mind-chess you’re about to play. This is going to be a lot like a high school wrestling match. Lots of grappling and trying to push each other out of the circle of trust (I think that’s what it is, right?) except it’s you and a babe, so it’s not all ancient greeky homoerotic. Without the proper preparation you might as well continue living vicariously through your Sims character.

1. Sweat Like You’re the Biggest Loser
There’s nothing the ladies love more than l’odeur d’un homme, which I believe roughly translates into “the pungent smell of the sweat from your butt crack.” Do a bunch of jumping jacks, jog in place – whatever you have to do to saturate yourself in that wonderful salty substance that makes the ladies weep with joy. It has something to do with pheromones or estrogen, I don’t really get it, but there’s probably an article in Cosmo about it and how women can use it to be more effective in the bedroom.

2. Unbutton Your Shirt
This needs to be at least halfway. If you’re not wearing a button up shirt, I don’t even know what to do with you.

3. Eat Something Sloppy
Remember how back in the day, dudes were into fat chicks because it showed that they were wealthy? Weird how that’s kind of opposite now. Anyway, you need to eat some buffalo wings or some ribs before you get to sweeping this honey off her feet. Preferably with no hands. This is nonverbal communication that says “check it out, I can afford to take you on as many dates as you want as long as they’re to B-Dubs.”

Step Two: The Approach
Walk up to her. That’s… That’s it. If she looks like a nice, nurturing softy, you could trip and fall to build up some sympathy points. Use discretion, as this could backfire pretty easily. Happens to Kent all the time.

Step Three: Go Time
You’re sweaty, your shirt is open, and you’ve got mild chipotle sauce on your face. Some people – wrong people – might refer to you as “a walking Hurricane Katrina” or “Michael Moore every single day.” You know what they don’t understand? I’ll tell you. Have you seen Terminator 2? You know the T1000, this dude that’s made out of liquid metal? Yeah, that’s like you, but instead of metal you’re made of raw liquid masculinity.

Get down to business. It’s up to you to carry on the conversation with her. This is the “mind chess” I mentioned earlier. You’re going to want to take her knight with your bishop, or her queen with your rook, or… whatever metaphor works. I am available for real-time walk throughs like that epic weirdo Mystery, but the cost would likely drive the world into a much deeper recession. My time is a commodity. Seriously, people trade it. Know how the markets have rallied lately? You’re welcome.

Optional Opening Lines:
Here are a few opening lines you can use if you really can’t think of one yourself. Feel free to belch these to her or convert them to Old English (aka “the white man’s Ebonics”), it’s all gravy.

“You look like you’d make a great addition to my Dungeons and Dragons raiding party.”

“Lucky for you, I love women with mustaches.”

“Smell that? That’s the smell of a very healthy digestive system.”

“Looks like we could make the fat children I’ve always wanted.”

“This one girl I got pregnant looked a lot like you.”

“You look like your biological clock has almost run out.”

Did you just feel that spark in your mind? That’s called an epiphany, my friend. I just gave it to you. Bust out any one of these, and you’ll have digits in no time. Keep on living, gentlemen. There are plenty of fish in the sea, and thanks to me that sea looks a lot more like a barrel.