Posts Tagged ‘Discussion’

The Dan Eats Cat Food Summit

Posted: April 19, 2010 by kaostheory in Slice of Life
Tags: , , , ,

This past weekend, KaosTheory and Ed made the trek down from Mt. Olympus to the Lost City of Atlanta to meet up with Pred3000, Rupert, Raybestos and Big Papa Bear (not an actual member of this website but enough of an impact player nonetheless). This…is the story of that trip. Most of it may or may not be made up.
——–
Friday:

5:00AM: KaosTheory and Ed wake up. Ed is pissed. He was, according to him, locked in the embrace of Salma Hayek who was dressed as Wonder Woman. He was also apparently close to ejaculation. KaosTheory prays thankful prayers to every deity out there that his guest bed was not soaked in editorial spermatazoa.

6:20AM: The bags are packed and thrown into the backseat of the car. A short fistfight occurs between KT and Ed to determine who gets to drive. KT wins. Ed pouts and takes a drink from his flask. It smells like gasoline mixed with Koolaid. Ed calls it “St. Elmo’s Fire”. KT decides not to ask why.

6:30AM CT – 11:30AM ET: The two engage in the drive down. The iPod allows for strong-armed rocking out.

11:30AM: The pair arrives at the apartment that Rupert and Pred3000 share. KT notices the faint smell of death surrounding the place but chooses not to mention it when Rupert gives him a glare through bloodshot eyes. KT is given the futon to sleep on as Ed claims a comforter and the bathtub. KT groans and Pred laughs nervously. This was off to a good start.

12:00PM: KT and Pred take a walk around KT’s old college campus, meeting up with a few people and discussing lunch plans. KT asks about the death smell at the apartment. Pred3000 shakes his head sadly and keeps walking. KT figures he should probably not push it.

1:00PM: KT and Pred go to pick up Rupert and Ed who by this point have taken a crowbar to Pred’s liquor cabinet and mixed somewhere around two bottles of gin, one of rum and four quarts of chardonnay into something that is ostensibly “Liquor Soup” but sounds more like “Prlibhliaahkrbh Sanelinelig”, at least to the sober minds in the room. KT decides to just throw the pair a loaf of bread and go to lunch without them.

1:15PM: KT and Pred meet Raybestos at his place to pick up some of KT’s old mail. Ray has grown a goatee and looks somewhat more evil than usual. Not a bad look, of course. The three of them then migrate to their favorite watering hole, where KT (who had been on a diet) devours a burger and a few beers. The two single members of the cabal ogle waitresses shamelessly. Ray taunts KT about his diet. KT flips him off and keeps eating. Soon, lunch is over.

2:30PM: KT and Pred hang out at Ray’s until Ed calls KT in a hurry. Something is mentioned about “facedown in the toilet”. Pred and KT bid an annoyed farewell to Ray to go take care of the situation. KT manages to convince Pred to drop him back off at the campus so that he can go for a walk with another friend of his. He spends the entire walk sucking in his gut and trying to make his voice lower than it is. Pred spends the entire course of the walk trying to revive Rupert who had passed out while throwing up in the crapper. Pred may or may not have cried in frustration.

4:00PM – 8:00PM: Angry at the irresponsibility of Ed and Rupert, KT and Pred pick up yet another friend from campus, go buy liquor, hang out back at the apartment (making sure to keep Ed and Rupert locked in the bathroom), then go get Mexican food and margaritas. After the dinner, they go release the unconscious captives and scoot off to campus to a concert.

8:00PM – 10:00PM: The concert. Panicky text messages from Ed go ignored.

10:30PM: After a quick run back to Pred’s to check on vital signs from the drunken pair, Pred and KT head to Big Papa Bear’s house to hold the Dan Eats Cat Food Summit. BPB is already there (natch) and Ray and a work colleague of his arrive soon after. Circle of Death ensues (KT has a twelve-pack of Newcastle, Pred has vodka, BPB has 151, Ray and his friend have wine and Sprite) in which stories are thrown around that the colleague has not heard before, a novelty for the group. Bohemian Rhapsody then occurs, echoing throughout the house.

Saturday:

1:00AM: Ray and his friend leave. The rest of the group puts on swimsuits and hits the pool/hot tub.

1:30AM – 6:00AM: We have no fucking clue. Pred and KT reach Pred’s apartment at 6 AM, way too late for the old men.

6:00AM – 12:30PM: Drunk sleep.

12:30PM: KT is awakened by a text from that sonofabitch BPB. He soon realizes how late in the day it actually is. He also realizes that he has no idea where Pred, Rupert or Ed are. This fact puts him into less of a panic than he was originally expecting.

12:31PM: Pred walks out of his room and informs KT that Rupert and Ed have been arrested for public indecency due to exposing themselves on a playground while riding a teeter-totter. Pred doesn’t feel like he cares enough to post bail. KT concurs.

12:32PM – 2:30PM: Nothing effing happens. KT and Pred sit around, nursing mild hangovers.

2:30PM: KT and Pred meet BPB at the mall for lunch. They mow through Great Wraps like Sherman through Atlanta.

3:15PM – 6:15: BPB and KT see Kick-Ass while Pred goes off to a job thingy. Lame. The movie was decent. The two then go to BPB’s house to feed his dog, then to meet Pred and Ray at the watering hole again.

6:30PM – 8:00PM: Dinner at the watering hole. Pred pronounces “fetish” as “fee-tish”. The next half hour is taken up making fun of him for it. Even now, it still amuses.

8:30PM: Pred and KT return to Pred’s apartment. Ed and Rupert have been released. They are sitting glumly on the steps to the apartment. KT and Pred try to ignore them. It fails. A brawl results in hurt feelings, a broken nose for Ed and a black eye for Pred. Rupert was glassed inside the apartment by a still-mad KT and bleeds on the carpet. Pred is very displeased.

10:30PM: KT falls asleep like a bitch because his sleep schedule was FUBAR. Pred, Rupert and Ed talk and drink for a bit then turn in as well. Night falls.

Sunday:

9:00AM ET – 5:00PM CT Church, lunch with another friend and then KT and Ed drive home, arguing the whole way. A fitting end. Fin.
——–
(Well. That was wholesale slander right there. – ed.)

Prove me wrong.

(I…hrm. – ed.)

Goodnight everybody. Good to be back!


Hello fans. Intern Rick Brickstone here. Due to some unforeseen political complications stemming from a previously undiagnosed proclivity to go absolutely off-the-wall when threatened, Chief Medical Correspondent KaosTheory will be unable to provide his contribution today as was previously planned. Thus, we are being forced to go with…*sigh*…Plan B. Over the past few months, we have been in the process of attempting to branch out into the media market, expanding away from basic online comedy and diversifying our interests. That, coupled with KT’s annoyingly absent article, has forced our hand to provide you, our loving fans, something…different today. We are going to provide you the transcript of our failed…oy…talk show. For some reason, the producers thought it would be a great idea to make it a SPANISH talk show. They even hired the guy to be the host, some pervert named Carlos Anaranjado. I don’t know. Our editor will provide a translation for the Spanish, one that was not offered for the show proper. Not our best idea in retrospect. Please…I can’t quite say enjoy, but don’t hate it too much.

———
Carlos: ¿Cuál está para arriba, bitches? Es de nuevo hora para el ” ¡Pueblos de Hola mis! ” Soy su anfitrión, Carlos Anaranjado, y we’ ¡el re ir a coger sus mentes hoy!
(What is up, bitches? Eleven It is again for Time ” Hello my towns! ” I a.m. your host, Carlos Orange, and we’ re going to fuck your minds today!)

(the crowd cheers halfheartedly)

Carlos: ¡Nuestra primera huésped es hoy sensación latina adolescente, Justin Bieber! ¡Dé la bienvenida al poco jailbait a la etapa!
(Ours first guest is today adolescent Latin sensation, Justin Bieber! He little gives the welcome to jailbait to the stage!)

(Justin Bieber enters, looking puzzled)

Bieber: This isn’t the Tonight Show…

Carlos: Venido, venga. Siéntese ese asno apretado. ¿Puedo conseguirle cualquier cosa? ¿Agua? ¿Café? ¿Tequila?
(Come, it comes. Siéntese [sit down] that tight ass. I can secure [bring] any thing to him? Water? Coffee? Tequila?)

Bieber: I don’t know what you said but…um…no.

Carlos: ¿Es tan verdad que usted estrangula putas con su correa para alcanzar orgasmo, Sr. Bieber?
(It is so truth that you strangle putas [hookers] with his strap [belt] to reach orgasmo, Mr. Bieber?)

Bieber: Excuse me, what? What was that? Can…can we get a translator out here?

Carlos: ¿Usted es realmente una mujer mayor del treinta-año con el progeria, correcto?
(You are really a greater woman of the thirty-year with progeria, correct?)

Bieber: I…progeria? I don’t think I know what you’re asking.

Carlos: Tan díganos. ¿Cuántos de sus ventiladores adolescentes usted ha hecho el amor y usted estaría dispuesto a compartir sus hazañas en gran, gran detalle?
(So díganos [tell us]. How many of his adolescent ventilators [fans] you have made the love and you would be prepared to share his feats in great, great detail?)

Bieber: I’m…I’m sorry, but I really am not feeling too comfortable here, to be honest.

Carlos: ¡Johnny! ¡Sale aquí y da a nuestra huésped estimada un masaje sensual!
(Johnny! It leaves here and it gives to our considered guest a sensual massage!)

(a short man in a tank top comes out, toting a bottle of what appears to be mustard with him)

Carlos: ¡Usted ve, Sr. Bieber! ¡Nos dedican totalmente a cerciorarse de a nuestras huéspedes somos felices, sanos y satisfechos sexual!
(You see, Mr. Bieber! Our guests totally dedicate to us to make sure of a happy, healthy and are satisfied sexual!)

Bieber: Okay. I’m not in the right place. Goodbye.

(Justin Bieber leaves)

Carlos: ¡Miley Cyrus, cada uno! Después para arriba, tenemos uno de mi gente preferida personal en el mundo. ¡El, el único… Jenna Jameson!
(Miley Cyrus, each! Later for above, we have one of my personal favourite people in the world. , The unique one… Jenna Jameson!)

(a long pause while the music plays – nobody enters – finally a stagehand comes over to Carlos and whispers in his ear, then leaves)

Carlos: ¡Ella no apareció al parecer! ¡De hecho, ningunas de nuestras huéspedes hicieron! We’ ¡re no incluso filmando esto delante de una audiencia de estudio viva! ¡Todos son muertos! ¡Cadáveres!
(It did not appear apparently! In fact, no of our guests did! We’ re not even filming this in front of an alive hearing of study! All are dead! Corpses!)

(Carlos begins to laugh maniacally – the video feed transitions quickly into static)
———
What. The. Fuck. One second, ladies and gentlemen. ED!

(What’s up? – ed.)

Did…did you see that?

(See what? – ed.)

See what? SEE WHAT? How about did you see that “Holy freaking Jesus we just put a fifteen-year old music star in a room with a NECROPHILIAC PEDOPHILE WITH SEVERE PSYCHOSIS”? Did you MAYBE see THAT?

(What in the Sam Hill are you talking about? – ed.)

Are…are you in charge here? Do you have any concept of what just went down?

(I gotta be honest with you. Rick. Rita left me. – ed.)

Oh, Ed. I’m so sorry.

(Whatever. She’s in a better place now. – ed.)

She DIED?!

(What? No. She’s in Phoenix now with MARCUS. Lousy pediatric surgeon. – ed.)

Oh…kay. This is weird. But did you see the…you know…atrocity we just bankrolled?

(I gotta be honest with you, Rick. I am like…ten kinds of high right now. I saw a piece of paper on my desk. I signed it. That’s all I know. – ed.)

I…okay. I get it now. I get why my professor started laughing when I told him I was interning here. I get why he handed me his flask and said that I needed it more than he ever would. I get it now. You people are all insane. You’re all off your fucking rockers.

(You’re the intern, right? – ed.)

Yes…

(Where’s my damn coffee? And get me KaosTheory! He’s not a hack! – ed.)

KaosTheory is in federal custody! He set FIRE to the Washington Monument!

(Oh. Well, in that case, sign us off, kid. You’re going places. – ed.)

Oh my God. Goodbye everyone. Hopefully tomorrow will be less embarrassing.

(Doubt it. – ed.)

Top Ten Reasons Tits Are The Tits

Posted: September 5, 2009 by kaostheory in Informative, Top Ten
Tags: , , , ,

I didn’t think it possible but last entry proved that, in fact, I CAN reach a point where I am uncomfortable showing some humor to the public at large. And all it took was doughy bread sex and murder. Betcha wanna read that entry now huh?

Anyways, since I clearly have not pissed off enough people with this site, what with the rampant rape jokes and alcohol abuse, let’s get to a Top Ten entry, shall we? As the title clearly states, today I’ll be commenting on the Top Ten Reasons Tits Are The Tits (read: awesome sauce with bacon). Yes, it’s sexist. Yes, fuck off. Let the countdown begin!

10. Wet T-shirt contests: Imagine, if you will, that you (or a male surrogate of you if you are a woman…a straight woman with no bisexual curiosity and…you know what, forget it) are at a bar in Tijuana or the Bahamas or…I don’t know, Switzerland I guess…and all the women there are sitting quietly, sipping their Coronas or wine, chatting about the day’s events. You know what we call that? FUCKING BORING. Now, if instead of a quiet chat, you throw in a fire hose and drunk coeds with loose morals and tight white t-shirts practically designed to showcase nipples…well, you have a party. QED.

9. Engrossing video game characters: Lara Croft. Samus. Jill Valentine. The chick from Portal. What do all these characters have in common? Yes, they may have addictive and lasting games that may stand the test of time. But why is that? I’ll give you a hint. It’s because of the guns they’re carrying…and I don’t mean the pistols they have strapped to their hips.

I’m talking about their breasts, if you didn’t figure that out. They all have wonderful digital breasts.

8. Give insecure women the confidence they need: Some women fall into that sad area of personality known as “fragile”. They don’t have any confidence in themselves or their looks. This is a shame because most are beautiful to someone in some way (I’m most assuredly not saying that for myself, of course – but someone has to love them). However, there is a trick that is quickly gaining momentum in society which isn’t necessarily a bad thing. Feel insecure? Breast implants! Feel alone? Breast implants! Guess what? Now they feel better and, due to breast size, are gaining male attention they could only dream of before. Everyone wins!

7. We can rub our faces in them.: What? We can. Ask any straight male and he’ll tell you that tits in the face would be an awesome way to die. The next best thing to dying of a heart attack while being inside a hot, young woman is to die with their tits smothering you, whether it be at a strip club, a regular club, or simply just out of blind, stinking luck out somewhere where booze is around.

6. Proof positive of puberty as a scientific phenomenon: This one is fairly simple. Before puberty = no tits. During/after puberty = wonderful tits. Now, this is obviously not to say that all tits are the same size during and/or after puberty, but they ARE are wonderful just on the basis of them actually being.

5. PORN.: In this scenario, tits are not only a necessity, they are a founding ethic. Without bare tits, there would be no Playboy. There would be no Marilyn Monroe. There would be no Deep Throat or Debbie Does Dallas. No teenagers sneaking around, furtively trying to sneak a peek at wrapped magazines in gas stations. No late night masturbation marathons made that much more exciting through the fear of parents catching you, creating an entire generation of exhibitionist perverts. Jenna Jameson would be a gas station attendant. Ron Jeremy would be in jail. Hugh Hefner would be dead. You see? Tits have not only created an industry, they have created decades of careers, money and desperate, horny, barely legal teenagers with an insatiable thirst for cock.

4. We have something to stare at when we’re talking to women.: Hey, I don’t make the rules. I just say them.

3. Aid in bachelor parties: This one is a critical one. Some men like their bachelor parties to be lowkey. They’ll go out for the weekend to a cabin or something with their closest friends, have a few beers and chat about the good times they had in college or what have you. These men are fucking pussies. A real bachelor party almost ALWAYS starts in Vegas and involves mass gambling, an unhealthy amount of alcohol consumption and fake breasts as far as the eye can see. If you take away even one of them, the party collapses into something still awesome, but not nearly as awesome. Hence, the need for tits in helping create rockin’-ass bachelor parties. A public service!

2. They create a very reason for men to live: What do boys want when they’re young? Breasts to hold on to. What do they want when they hit puberty? Breasts to look at sneakily. What do they want in high school? Breasts to feel and play with. What do they want in college and early to mid-twenties? Breasts hanging in their face or potentially wrapped around their cock. These continue all the way to the grave, and maybe even after, although I can’t speak for the existence of zombie leches. Not liches, D&D fans. Leches.

And the last, and certainly most important reason that tits are the tits is….drum roll please…

1. They provide nourishment for our young, ensuring the continuous survival of the human race.: Did you expect anything different?

Thank you for reading! In this article, I no doubt broke the shit out of many search engines through the use of the word “tits”. There’s no possible way I could cram any more in this article.

Tits tits tits tits tits tits tits tits tits tits tits tits.

Just checking.


In every culture in the world throughout history, there have been places to which the squealing, miserable masses have been relegated. For the Greeks, they would throw weak babies off cliffs. For the Romans, they would throw slaves into a lion’s den for fun. For native Africans, they would bash rival tribes with clubs and impale them on stakes. Yet, it was not enough. With each culture has come the inevitable giggling retard who masturbates in public and smears its own feces all over itself in an attempt to camoflauge itself. These “village idiots”, as it were, would be taunted and thrown into the wilderness to be savaged by predators and the elements. However, in this day and age, do we so rightfully do the same for ours?

FUCKING NO!

Instead of mercy-killing our retards, we give them a FORUM. We allow them unlimited access to that damnable creature known as The Internet where they are free to inhabit corners of the web, festering and breeding like roaches with fetal alcohol syndrome. Most of the time, we are able to keep them safely at bay in dank holes such as 4chan and various philia websites, but they have managed to elude Net defense mechanisms to infest one of the granddaddy sites of them all: YouTube. There, they sit and wait, content to gorge themselves on Internet memes and poor unfortunate genitalia being hammered with various objects and set on fire, until the day where something of actual merit appears. Then, as if sharks drawn to a bleeding seal or frat boys to lonely drunk cougars, they begin to swarm, spewing forth incomprehensible gibberish until the video dies with a shriek of agony nigh unto that which may well end the world. In the interest of academia, I shall examine a hypothetical video and the comments that appear underneath. Be warned. This is not for the faint of heart. Lesser hearts than yours have been shattered when staring into that abyss.

The video itself is immaterial. It could be something as innocuous as a man waving at the camera or as horrendous as a car crash with multiple fatalities. It matters not, for each video with a reasonable level of popularity will fall prey to the same basic comments by the same basic people.

The first commenters that will generally occur are the Genuinely Appreciative. These commenters are most often pleasant and thoughtful, as they attempt to show a sincere interest in the video and may offer constructive criticism. These, as unicorns in the Serengeti, are few and far between.

The next kind are the Shitstirrers. These pricks don’t care what the video is. They just hate it. It could be promoting peace worldwide and they would be against it. Their sole purpose is to run counter to anything anyone else thinks, a sort of anti-matter, if you will. They may try to be witty, but more often come off as mean and pissy.

Next, we have the Politicos. These are always fun. A song about how love is lovely will still turn into a debate for these jackasses. They are always, always extreme. There is no middle ground. They are either “George Warmonger Bush created 9/11 through his evil ties to Al-Qaeda and Satan and consumes the souls of the living through the Patriot Act” or “Barack HUSSEIN Obama shits evil from his black Muslim ass all over Israel and the American public. Also, he fucks bald eagles with gay rights and Communist policies”. While amusing at first, these soon become tiresome, as their rhetoric grows tired and limp, like a verbal marathon sex session with no physical release.

Coming off the Politicos are the inevitable Racist Scumbags. One would not expect “Lazy Town” or “The Wiggles” to elict rampant bigotry, yet, here we are. A video comment section may be cruising along when all of a sudden, wham! A casual reference to slaves or “nigras” will spawn a flame war the likes of which is seen only often in such sections. The “minority” hate will be slapped down by the majority of when all of a sudden, the African-American or Asian or Latino counterpart will enter the thread and begin a verbal jousting match with the eager asshole. The entire section will become involved in the battle as more and more combatants enter the fray. Soon, the video is lost, consumed by dickheads with too much time.

Very similar to the Racist Scumbags are the Haha, I’m A Joking Pederast But Not Really people. They’ll pop in as the dust begins to settle and make a “joking” comment about wanting to put his (it is ALWAYS his, ALWAYS fucking his) dick into Emma Watson’s or Dakota Fanning’s or Miley Cyrus’s poopshoot. This, of course, will offend just about everyone who will clamor for his head on a stake. His only line of defense is that he wasn’t serious and that people who are so bothered by it just should learn to take a joke once and a while and that he was definitely kidding and doesn’t really want to anally penetrate a minor but of course he actually does…the sick son of a bitch.

We could spend all day mentioning the other various offshoots of these. The Feminazis, The HomoLovers and Haters, The Americans and American’ts. The list goes on. But they are all the exact same. We must move on.

We come now to one of the spectacular failings of YouTube, that being the age limit. The Terms of Service technically recommend that nobody under the age of 13 use the site, but there is NO way to enforce this. Even if they COULD, the minimum age of 13 is ridiculous. And why. *ahem* BECAUSE THIRTEEN YEAR OLDS ARE THE MOST FUCKING BRAINDEAD BASTARDS ON THE PLANET. That is why. We now come to the Kiddies. Good. Gravy. While hateful rhetoric and general asshattery are bad, the minute a Kiddie enters a comment section, you will know. Text speak will be thrown around with such wanton disregard that Webster himself will be shitting himself in fury in his grave. An example – a real-life comment – before we leave this unholy ground. Be warned. Spontaneous combustion of corneae is common. From, and I am not kidding, JonasBrotherLuver53…and I quote…”ossum vid! btw wta song is dat? n i HATE JB AND MY USERNAME!”

…*blank, unseeing stare*.

The next on the list of the denizons of Hell’s domain are a two-fold problem. They are the Promoters. They can come in either human or spambot form, yet they approach the video comment section with the same lurking menace. Without regards to the appropriateness of their comments, they strike, offering cursory comments as they throw in the link to their own insidious purpose. It may be a porn site, a “win money now!” site or even just their own crappy-ass video that they are trying to artificially inflate the view counter for. Most often, they say something to the effect of “Wow, that video is funny! You can find other funny things at matylknakghbilnag.com!” Unfortunately, such a comment does not work quite so well for a Holocaust remembrance video.

The final jabbering, walking brain damage victims are perhaps the most dangerous: the Griefers. “Griefer”, a term used in MMORPGs (read: YouTube commenter factories), describes those players whose sole purpose is to ruin the game for other players. They are assholes through and through. These also exist on these videos, taking the Shitstirrers’ job and making it that much more vile, intentionally angering other commenters for “the lulz”, an archaic retard term for laughs. They will go to very great lengths to destroy any good and fun in the world. They are basically little Antichrists. Beware at all costs.

There you have it. I do not blame you if you feel like taking a shower after reading this. Any person possessing a brain stem would feel the same. Cleanse yourself and thank your Maker that you are not one of those unfortunate multitude damned to idiocy.

And if you are and you’re reading this, get the fuck out.

Tactics

Posted: April 23, 2009 by kaostheory in Informative
Tags: , , ,

Hello everyone. Sorry for not updating recently but those damn space mantises regrouped on Mars so I had to take a crack squadron of goons, completely with obligatory racial minority and female for sexual tension, to go kill those pinchy fuckers. Long story short: we got ’em, but some egg sacs got back to Earth and have taken over Uruguay. Those that have hatched have signed a treaty with us, under the condition they can have the country. We have decided it’s a small price to pay for peace.

Anyhow, as I was up in space shooting carapaces to bits, it occurred to me that there are an awful lot of tactics that guys and girls use to fuck with each other. Thus, I employed the services of a friend to be a sounding board for tactics and this is what we came up with. Enjoy.

Girl tactic: Get super “offended” by something a guy says, and use it as a means for being ‘not that into him’, thus an excuse to not have to speak to him again.
Guy tactic: Let it go. Show it didn’t hurt or mean a thing to you. It takes you girls off your guard like whoa.

Girl tactic: Saying ‘I have a lot of trust/guy issues’ is an easy repellant. It could either give you leverage to see how hard he’s willing to work (thus proving he’s a good guy), or get him to lay off. Quickly.
Guy tactic: Daddy issues aren’t necessarily a dealbreaker. Sometimes they can be fun.

Girl tactic: We screen our calls. Every single time. So the voicemail is key.
Guy tactic: We hate voicemails – they provide a paper/vocal trail of uncertainty – and will call dozens of times just to avoid having to leave one.
Girl tactic: Any guy that won’t man up enough to leave a voicemail loses ‘Potential Points’. No lie.

Guy tactic: We don’t understand your criteria. It’s like you have a syllabus detailing very explicitly your grading system and won’t hand it out in class.
Girl tactic: The girls worth anything are the ones without a syllabus. They are infinitely easier to recognize.
Guy tactic: Our radars are so effed by the chaff that is mixed signals by this point that we can’t tell the difference.

Girl tactic: We understand that you need ‘guy time’ just as much as we need ‘girl time’, but sometimes we just want all the attention. Every last drop of it.
Guy tactic: If you don’t want the guy doing guy time activities around you, let him have the guy time WITH the guys. Trust me, it’s easier that way.
Girl tactic: We think all you do during guy time is complain about how we don’t do mindblowing things in bed.
Guy tactic: All we do during guy time is get drunk and brag about the shit you WILL do

Girl tactic: We love it when you talk about baby names, or what you want the house to look like, or colors for the bridesmaids dresses. It doesn’t mean you need to turn into an effeminate guy — it’s the sexiest thing when you’re a just a guy that cares about the long term.
Guy tactic: The second a girl brings that shit up without warning, the friggin’ NORAD klaxon goes off in our head with a red light the brilliance of which is only matched by the SUN.

Girl tactic: “I was a fucking asshole to Dan. Seriously, like, I was an uncalled for jerk.”

Girl tactic: We think relationships should be exactly like the ending to a chick flick. (Note: This is totally unfair)
Guy tactic: We think relationships should be exactly like the beginning, middle and end of a porno (Note: Probably less fair)

Girl tactic: We like Momma’s boys. End of story.
Guy tactic: Fathers scare the HELL out of us. Because we know EXACTLY what is going through their heads. “Okay, you’re the little bastard who’s trying to take my little girl from me, huh? Let me tell you something. If you kiss her, I will kill you. If you have sex with her, I will kill your whole family. If you break her heart, I will kill everyone that has ever encountered you on the street. And I know you can hear this, AARON, so be warned.”

Girl tactic: Sometimes we say ‘nevermind’, just so people chase after us. (Note: This is so lame.)
Guy tactic: Some of us won’t bother chasing. Grow a set and talk things out like a grownup.

Girl tactic: We always want you to make the first move. Always.
Guy tactic: Some of us don’t have the stones for a first move and quite frankly consider it sexist to expect us to do so.

Girl tactic: We will basically orgasm upon first trace of chivalry.
Guy tactic: Fucking prove it.

Girl tactic: Girls that aren’t traditionally ‘girly’ have a tougher time of things. For instance, if you’re into baseball, you immediately become ‘one of the guys’.
Guy tactic: But even “guy” girls have tits and are therefore better.
Girl tactic: Yeah, but it’s harder to break out of the tomboy mold at that point.
Guy tactic: Doesn’t matter. Take your shirt off. Tomboy goes away.
Girl tactic: You can’t just be like, what is this, the bottom of the 8th? BAM, here are my boobs! It doesn’t work that way!
Guy tactic: Clearly you don’t understand men.
Girl tactic: I’m just saying, there’s no correct segway from RBI’s to fucking. The END.
Guy tactic: Yes there is. It’s called “Hey, this game’s great. Want to fuck?” It is THAT simple.

(Note: Conversation went off-track here but was too funny not to leave in)
NO WAY. That’s something out of a flipping porno skit, not real life.
Which is why it would WORK.
Well yeah, but then obviously, all regard for any decent, long-term relationship is OVER. You become fuckbuddies who come over to each other’s places for beer, wings, and sex, but that is IT. Which is fine, but like you said, a girl’s a girl no matter how tomboyish.
…beer, wings and sex is like a sports fan’s dream come true.
Totally, haha
Preferably at the same time
I mean, contrary to popular opinion, I think it’s do-able…haha.
If you do it doggie-style, you can use her back as a tray
AHAHAHA. YES, yes, you can.
Don’t know where the ranch could go that wouldn’t taint the flavor though
Just turn her over and drizzle it right on the boobs.
That sounds like it came straight out of a guy’s mouth. WOW.
You’re learning

Like I said, rape can be funny. End o’ story.
Exactly. Like if you raped a clown…or a six year old.
OMG, hahahaha.
Or the Burger King….or Mister Rogers…or Tony Danza.
It’s like a confusing, sexually charged orgy of creepy
Exactly, hahaha

(Note: Conversation resumed as normal here)

Girl tactic: When we see a girl with a guy we like, we ask ourselves ‘What did she do right to get HIM?’
Guy tactic: When we see a guy with the girl we like, we ask ourselves “How much is that asshole paying her?”

Girl tactic: Those nontypical girls hate that the guys get to be hams about their jokes. We know we’re supposed to be all ‘YOU are the only funny one around, mister!’, but serious props to the guy that laughs at the girl’s joke. Even if it sucks.
Guy tactic: Guys will laugh if a joke is funny, even from girls. Especially ones they want to sleep with.
Girl tactic: We have the same raging libido as guys, no matter how innocent. We just think we’ll be seen as nymphomaniacs for revealing it.
Guy tactic: Pretty sure you’d be seen as wicked cool if you did.
Girl tactic: Guaranteed, we’d look like a total slut if we did.
Guy tactic: Not if you didn’t bang every guy in sight.
Girl tactic: So just luring guys without screwing them is attractive? You’re still going to get a reputation from guys or girls either way.
Guy tactic: Big difference between luring and just flaunting a bit
Girl tactic: How do you define flaunting?
Guy tactic: I mean, just not be ashamed of being sexual like a majority of girls seem to be

Girl tactic: Just because we’re not chatty one day, doesn’t mean there’s something seriously wrong. Sometimes we just have quiet days.
Guy tactic: Well maybe you shouldn’t set the normal bar as being way chatty.
Girl tactic: Maybe you should jump in on being chatty, so we don’t feel like babbling weirdos. When you don’t say anything, we tend to get nervous and talk moremoremoremore, until we don’t know when to stop.
Guy tactic: Interrupting girls leads to future coitus interruptus. Fact.

Girl tactic: We’re split 50/50 on whether or not nervous, idle talk about ANYTHING is cute, or whether playing it smooth just works better.
Guy tactic: We’re probably just staring at your tits anyways

Girl tactic: Some girls’ boobs aren’t that big. They wholeheartedly believe in padded bras, so…don’t get disappointed when they’re half the size they appear in public.
Guy tactic: If you don’t want us to be disappointed, don’t make us believe in a lie. We don’t stuff our crotches. Some of us don’t need to.

Girl tactic: But you’re obsessed with stuff like the Sports Illustrated swimsuit edition. How are we supposed to live up to that!?
Guy tactic: Become Sports Illustrated swimsuit models
Girl tactic: The SI models are like blowup dolls. Nice to look at, but filled with silicone and zero thought processes.
Guy tactic: And preferably with our DICKS.

Girl tactic: When you don’t call us for a few days, we think the world is over.
Guy tactic: If we don’t call you, we’re probably just drunk.
Girl tactic: If you’re drunk, you should probably just come over and have your way with us.
Guy tactic: Like that ever fucking works.
Girl tactic: Depends when we’re ovulating.
Guy tactic: If you’re ovulating, we’re hightailing away from that den of trickery and fertility you call your vaginas.

Girl tactic: We like when you catch our drift. Like, we throw something out there, and you know what to do next without our direction.
Guy tactic: It’s just as easy to grab us by the hair and direct our face where you want it.
Girl tactic: But then we’re too “aggressive”.
Guy tactic: Says who?
Girl tactic: Unwritten law. What if you guys are like, WOAHTHERE, too fast. Of course we know what we want, but you can’t just force that stuff!
Guy tactic: I’ll give you a hint. We’d be perfectly fine with a blowjob instead of a hello. “Too fast” isn’t possible.

Girl tactic: You NEED to watch Sex & the City. The Samantha character is every guy’s dream woman, although she’s kind of a cougar.
Guy tactic: I’d rather drag my sack across broken glass.
Girl tactic: She’s still hot! And she wakes guys up with blowjobs. And gives blowjobs in public bathrooms. And has sex in the strangest positions. I’m pretty sure you could overlook the fact that she’s in her 40s. But maybe not.
Guy tactic: Eh, get a couple martinis in me and I’d give it a shot.

Girl tactic: Guys that cry every so often get extra credit.
Guy tactic: Perhaps but we lose man cred.
Girl tactic: Do you want to get screwed or not?
Guy tactic: Testes the size of baseballs should answer that for you.

Girl tactic: Like you get so nervous about The Dad, we get incredibly nervous to meet The Mom.
Guy tactic: As you should. Mothers are terrifying.
Girl tactic: Nah, we just want to impress with our domesticity.
Guy tactic: Pretty sure that doesn’t matter to the boyfriend.

Girl tactic: We’re always trying to be thinner for you guys.
Guy tactic: Don’t lose all of it. No guy wants to fuck a girl who feels like a pile of firewood.
Girl tactic: We love a guy who knows how to dress himself. Glasses are a plus. End of story.
Guy tactic: But glasses get in the way. Contacts are more comfortable.
Girl tactic: Contacts most of the time, but glasses are cute every so often. Just sayin’.
Guy tactic: I can buy that.

Girl tactic: You need to deal with our mood swings without getting irked. It’s just the way we operate, so the better you learn the ebb and flow, the easier things will be for you..
Guy tactic: We could deal with your mood swings if you didn’t turn into such raging cunts. Just because you’re cramped and leaking doesn’t give you the right to bite the heads off of guinea pigs or the emotional equivalent thereof.
Girl tactic: Oh come on! How would you feel being a beached whale for a week?! NOT FUN.
Guy tactic: Beached whales die. Why won’t you?

Girl tactic: Don’t live in the equivalent of a locker room. Learn how to clean….just a little. Nuff said.
Guy tactic: Why clean when you can do it for us?
Girl tactic: More clean, more sex.
Guy tactic: Our hands don’t try to bribe us.

Girl tactic: We will not, under any circumstances, go sans makeup for the first six months of our relationship with you. Literally, wake up earlier so we look presentable. (Note: This is also lame.)
Guy tactic: Fine, more sleep for us.

Girl tactic: Why do you guys feel the need to be macho all the time?
Guy tactic: Because we’re awesome, that’s why.

Girl tactic: Our favorite role to play is the sexy secretary. All the time, every time.
Guy tactic: We can dig that. We’re also fond of schoolgirl. And no, there is no way to explain it that doesn’t make us creepy-sounding.
Girl tactic: Start talkin’.
Guy tactic: Standard boilerplate is that it reminds us of a time when we were first noticing females in a sexual light.
Girl tactic: How Freudian of you…
Guy tactic: It’s better than the other option.
Girl tactic: Which is….?
Guy tactic: We just really really want to destroy innocence. With our manjunk.

Girl tactic: Similarly, we enjoy cursing. However, few are likely to curse so freely among the male species for fear of being thought of like a truck driver.
Guy tactic: That’s probably for the best. That extra leg on your Y-chromosome kills the fluid cursing ability in most cases.

Girl tactic: I think I’m running out of tactics…
Guy tactic: It’s cool. I think I blew my load already. And that’s too blatant to even “That’s what she said” it.
Girl tactic: Blew your load on what?!
Guy tactic: Well it certainly wasn’t the face of an Asian hooker I picked up near a Chinese restaurant around 7:30 tonight and am paying to act as a human footstool…
Girl tactic: That. is. the. most. bizarre. sentence. you. have. ever. uttered. EVER.

We certainly hope this was informative. It was…something to behold, alright. I feel like I need to go pray now.