Daters part deux: now you’re dating

Awhile back I wrote a blog about how to ask a girl out on a date and it got such a lackluster response that I just had to wait a few months to write the next installment! After reading said post, you might ask yourself what I really know about dating. The answer is nothing.

All I know are cornball jokes and how to type the word, “love,” in the search bars of Google and YouTube. But what do you know? If I do that enough times, I have something you could loosely call an article about dating.

Also there’s plagiarism.

JK- no other mortal thinks the groundbreakingly (officially one word now) (and also just an official word, too), ass-backwards, genius way I do. I am unique. I am a Sacajawea golden dollar coin-thing in a pocket full of Quarters and Nickels. And since I am a demigod of humor and the written word (usually with a green squiggle underneath it on Microsoft Word ’98) here is the second installment of, “Daters,” a future dangermike spectacular:

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Congratulations – you asked a girl out and she said, “yes.”

You’re the man now, dog.

Welcome to the minefield that is dating. And it’s not a seasoned relationship where you know your fiancé’s quirks and what her maximum number of wipes is before she just says, “fuck it,” flushes, and goes about her day with an itchy butthole. No. This is fresh. But not like wetwipe-fresh.

For a lot of people, the order goes- ask out, date, move in, and get married. For me it’s more like – don’t ask out, kind of tread water, and die alone. But since I have that schedule already penned in my Lisa Frank daily planner, I thought I might be able to lend a hand to you non-sexual predators (sorry, Tuna).

I’m going to start this off where I ended the last blog- just after a date to that painting place called something like, “Cold Ones and Canvases.” (dibs on that name) I’m sure you both enjoyed your rendez-vous because any TBSE reader is most likely a silver-tongued, hyphen-using, date-dynamo. You go back to her place and you decide it’s a smart idea to kiss her deeply on the lips and go on your way… instead of digging around her underpants like you lost your keys under the driver seat. Good call, Casanova.

Now it’s time for more dates.

When are you going to call her? One day? Two days? Are you gonna take advice from Swingers and call her in 5-7 business days?

Dope belt alert!

None of these- you live in 2014 so you text her, “Hey Oksana, I had a great time last night.” If you receive a response that’s even close to positive, call her later that day and set up a second date. Strike while the iron’s hot and before she decides she doesnt like your braided belt and smelling like homemade sauerkraut isn’t cute.

So when she obviously agrees to date you some more, you get to go broke. That might be a personal problem since I honestly am really bad at going dutch on dates. I get super prideful and end up paying for shit that I can’t afford and then I’m covering bus fare in dimes again. Not a great move but I’m an idiot.

But because you’re smarter than me, you have successfully dated this girl and still have a couple coppers to rub together. Good for you. This is when you get to meet her friends. Of all the girls I have ever dated, literally none have had cool friends. Like maybe they have one or two pals that don’t suck but the OVERWHELMING majority blow so fucking hard. Like, oh my God I’m not kidding. They can be lame, controlling, annoying, all three, other stuff, it doesn’t matter- there’s a pretty decent chance that they will be revolting people. Which is awesome that they are pretty much in control of when or whether you  get to explore the inside of her underpants. And to a much lesser extent, they can choose to poison your new girlfriend against you and make her hate your guts.. so make a good impression, buy them drinks, laugh at their terrible jokes, and suck their proverbial dicks. You will never be able to convince your girlfriend that her friends are fugly hoes who make you want to kill yourself instead of seeing them. That’s an epiphany that only she can arrive at alone.

Since you’re a smooth operator and got the approval of your girl’s Band of Misfit Toys, it’s time to push past Pillow Pants.

We do gifs now. TBSE 2.0

Sex isn’t easy. For me. I have a quarter dozen girls who would attest to that. But since I have it on good authority that TBSE readers are far more well endowed than its writers (especially Tuna), I have more faith in you than I do myself. However, your prowess in bed is measured by more than your Magic Stick. You have to know how to lap at her pink pond with an exhibition bordering on vaginal virtuosity.

I really can’t explain how much sexual goodwill this has bought me in the bedroom.

Let’s just say that maybe she’s on the pill, trusts  your dick is clean, and lets you hit it with no rubber on your clubber. Despite the constant MLB stats streaming through your head, you may feel the night’s run-time ending up on the shorter end of the spectrum. This is exactly why you should try to make her shake before you bake. Or let it soak. Or whatever. If you are balls deep in the worst performance you’ve put on in a while, she will react far better in her refractory period.

After successfully apologizing after coitus, meeting her parents is the next logical step. One of whom will probably hate you because you are either not good enough for her daughter OR you come off golden, which will make him think you are a schmoozer who tricked their daughter into taking off her “saturday” panties. Little do they know that their approval doesn’t mean shit to their little girl. All you have to do is LOOK like you are trying and it doesn’t matter if her Pops treats you like “the Gooks who tried to knife him in the Shit.” (His words not mine.) As long as you act like you have manners, make polite jokes about not-politics, and don’t swear, you’ll be fine. Plus you are charming as shit to her behind closed doors and you fuck good now, so all you have to do is tuck your shirt in. Or at least shower.

Now that you have her parents’ approval..or, more likely, their disgruntled acquiescence to their petulant daughter’s pleading, it looks like you two are moving in together. Which in no part means the beginning of a long line of “compromises” over what shit of yours you can like/have.

jk it is.

This is where you first get beaten down for having ideas about design and decoration. A relationship full of being told that you, “can’t hang that over there,” and she’s shocked when you do anything to avoid any part of the planning process of your nuptials.. but I’m getting ahead of myself. Also you get to have company over all the time and she doesn’t even have to ask permission. Remember all those good times with her nasty hooker friends? Well you have been spending too much time with their BFFL and they need to catch up with your lady. In your living room. All the time. Same deal with her parents who hate you. Enjoy your free time- it’s more valuable than Shrutebucks. You should use it to poop in peace.

ice ice, baby

Living together is basically practice for marriage and you don’t hate your Roommate so why not pop the question? I mean, she’ll probably say, “yes.” Make sure you get a good ring because girls show their friends and probably talk shit about the rock the same we talk shit about their weird nipples, knees, and vagina lips (GET INSECURE, LADIES!). And propose smart. While this is supposed to be the most special moment in their life forever because women are really only good at being domesticated, you can easily fuck this up. You can make her feel embarrassed or, even worse, unappreciated:

Does your girl like the adventures you do .. alone? Drop down on a knee on a mountain you’ve just majestically scaled together. Or maybe she wants all her friends, co-workers, and passerby to get inconvenienced see you pledge your undying devotion: do it in public and have someone there to take pictures and then upload them to Facebook so IcanfuckinghateyouMOVINGON.

So now you’re living together and engaged to be married, a topic I think better left until next time. I think the wrap up would be best served with some final advice:

RUN!

Just kidding. Single life leads to STDs..says my friend.

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How Sports Take Over Our Lives

Rey Maualuga of the Cincinnati Bengals.

Rey Maualuga of the Cincinnati Bengals. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Good afternoon TBSE friends, fans, and family. I have not spoken to you in quite some time as I’ve forgotten how to write. I can’t promise this will be a great post but I just wanted to rant a little bit.

My beloved Bengals (not as beloved as my Reds) were knocked out of the playoffs yesterday by a mediocre (ok, they’re good) Chargers team. Now, for those of you who don’t know, the last time that the Bengals won a playoff game was 23 years ago…23 years. 23 years ago also marked the last world series won by those Reds. Over the past 3 years, both the Bengals and Reds have made the playoffs, some by division championships and others via the wild card. Each of these three years, WE HAVE  SUCKED! We lost to the Pirates in the wildcard play in game and AT HOME, lost to the Chargers.

Now, what is the point of this rant? Sports envelop our lives, well, most of ours, anyway. Some days I’m envious of those out there without a team. When my teams lose, my heart breaks (only in the playoffs at least). You may know love, friends, but if you don’t know sports team love then you don’t really know it. I’m remembered of my friend Alex, a diehard Browns and Indians fan, who will, til his last breath, bleed the colors of those two teams. It may take over our lives but it feels so good sometimes that we keep letting it happen year in and year out. That said, I am taking solace in knowing that I have 39 days of not cheering for ANY sports teams. I’m excited about pitchers and catchers in a mere 39 days but also excited to have nothing to watch or cheer for on TV….shit, I guess I have to watch the Olympics and support team USA, oh well.

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Songs I’d Post If We Were Still Posting

Not necessarily new music, but just songs I like.

Former TBSE blogger working on her first album!!!

Obviously saved the best for last.

Daters part I: the first date.

catheartblog

I blogged once last week and it went so well that I decided to do it again.

It was nice to get the cobwebs out and hash out some topics, ideas, and bad jokes with the former crack staff of TBSE.

Tuna suggested that I do a dating series and I obliged. Not as much to give you readers advice but to actually help out my good friend and TBSE proprietor. You see, Tuna is still virgin and not in the cutesy “saving himself for marriage” way. More like when he gets close to a girl’s underpants, the tip of his penis explodes like one of those Chinese New Year pull-string firecrackers. And that wiener comparison is to scale. I’d be afraid of sex too if I were hung like him. It’d be like if Tuna tried to re-paint his bedroom by dropping a marble covered in primer in and shaking it around like you did at sleepaway camp.

Let’s go.

Who to ask: 

If you’re Tuna, who listens to K. Michelle- V.S.O.P. while he masturbates, practically anyone. For the rest of you readers, I am going to take my time and lay out the options. Ladies love it when you take your time.

First off, there are work peeps. I have very little experience in work relationships since I’ve never once frenched any girl I’ve worked with. That being said, most work hookups, regardless of how serious the feelings are, end messy. I once overheard a dude at work saying that the coworker that he was cobanging was “fat”. As I was standing right next to her. It got rough pretty much immediately. She wasn’t fat but she was an asshole but that’s beside the point. This is a higher pressure situation as the consequences are kind of dire if it goes south.

Another option is a friend of a friend (or..just friend if you have friends of the fairer sex)- this is my favorite because I tend to need a mediator to pass out and collect notes that ask whether or not the girl likes me back. Plus it’s a good excuse to run into them in a non creepy way. If you aren’t a mental midget like me, you can just meet someone and say, “hi.” And then follow that up with small talk leading up to asking her out..while you wonder if her bra strap has two clips or three and how that middle clip on the ones with three can get tricky if you’re rusty. I do prefer the mutual friend thing because it gives you an idea of the type of person she is. “The company you keep,” cliche is usually a good indicator of whether or not she’s going to email blast your very circumcised dick pics to your friends and family. Been there. Done that.

gleesegirlblog

make sure she’s a girl you’d bring home to meet your mom.

The last option here is girls from bars- don’t do it unless you want to have a girl call you, “Daddy,” while you “make love to her.”

When to ask:

I don’t mean time of day but in terms of how long you’ve known each other/been “hanging out”. I would suggest pulling the trigger pretty much immediately if you fulfill all three of:

  • She knows your first AND last name
  • You know hers
  • You have spoken to her long enough to make a joke/connection and prove that you actually are not a sexual predator

The longer you wait after that, the less likely she is to say yes. Unless you’re me. I am not pretty enough to follow that advice. If you are an ugly duckling like myself, you must prove your self-worth for a month or two. Then you submit your dating intentions in writing and get it notarized. Then maybe apologize for talking to her or something. I say sorry for pretty much everything I do. Works for me like %40 of the time.

How to ask:

Don’t ask by text or facebook or email or twitter or tumblr or instagram or kik or vine or google chat or skype (maybe skype if distance exists) and definitely not pinterest. And don’t have a public Pinterest if you’re a man. I mean, yeah some of the pins are pretty awesome and crafting seems like a nice weekend, just don’t publish it on Facebook if you can help it.

Ask in person with less than four drinks in your system but probably more than one because, “liquid courage,” is a saying for a reason. Don’t ask openendedly (not one word but I’m going with it). Have a plan of where you want to go and what you want to do- make this plan based off knowledge/shared interests you have gained about your target/prey. Also- know what nights you have open for the next 60 months. Making a date and rescheduling could reflect poorly on yourself and your ability to follow through, which could ruin future naked chances. And we wouldn’t want that, would we?

Where to go:

This is a coin flip basically- do you want to talk a lot or not? If you don’t, try a movie. Or be creative and take her to a show or play or community thing or maybe you have a hilarious friend that bombs at open mic nights. Take her there and shit talk your shitty comedian-friend the entire time- easy communication.

Tuna read this blog and offered his opinion that going to the movies on a date as a mid-twenty something was for, “squids.” He’s wrong. Don’t hold hands or get dropped off by your parents but go because it’s a classic date for a reason. If Goodwill Hunting was rereleased into theaters, I would tongue-kiss so many girls it’s ridiculous. One at the matinee and two at the late show. Worked in college, would work now. 

If you do like to talk you should take her to one of those wine drinking painting things I see on Instagram all the time. I never see a dude at those things and I feel like if you were to bite the bullet and go, you would have a good time and score monster brownie points. Plus wine rocks. And being a bad painter in no way reflects upon your skills in the bedroom. If she, per say, spotted you throwing a baseball femininely on the first date, that might hurt your naked chances but art probably won’t come naturally to either of you. And if coming naturally is the goal, I’ve just handed you a cheat sheet for the test.

tuxshirtblogWhat to wear:

Overdress but don’t be a dickhead. Or wear a tux.

Do or do not seal the deal. There is no try:

I believe that the longer that you withhold from sex in a relationship, the better things go. If you meet a girl by inserting your penis into her mouth, probably not going to be putting a ring on it any time soon. I’m not saying that you should wait until marriage because what if ..my friend.. has a micropenis and he’s not sure if his girlfriend would be into it.

I don’t think there’s a rule for whether or not you should bang on a first date. Maybe you guys have a connection and shit. Maybe you have been friends for a long time and then finally go out a some time later and you just need to see what shade of pink her areola are. I’m not here to judge but I do have one piece of information.

DO NOT “TRY” TO SEAL THE DEAL.

We have all gone home with girls and have been unsure if we were getting lucky until we reached past the elastic of her underpants. That’s fine, sometimes it’s good to test the waters to see where you stand but a first date with someone you like is not one of those times. Only round third if you are positive it’s a yes before any type of asking. Getting thrown out stealing home pretty much fucks you here. Not trying and leaving empty-handed is like investing in future naked chances with the possibility of feelings. And maybe some crying. Or maybe that’s just me because I tend to get emotional.

This article was surprisingly informative. You’re welcome.

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We never use the stars at the bottom and I want to try to sooooooo:

vote 1 star for the cover being better or 5 stars for lorde having the sexiest best voice a 16 yr old can have

I don’t watch the News.

And I don’t really feel bad about it. Actually let me be honest- I do follow several news sources but most are on the internet and most involve the many retirements and subsequent unretirements? of Adult Film Stars (capitalization mostly for respect purposes).

Due to my lack of involvement in anything current or eventful, you can imagine my surprise when I read that the Government was going to shut down 450 times in a row on my Facebook feed. Governments can just shut down? Is that bad? Shouldn’t this happen to like, Lithuania? Well I figured there was one answer for all of those questions I asked myself- write a completely non-sequiter TBSE blog about five (5) non-sequiter things. I like the word/phrase non-sequiter. DONE:

1. I had to Google what non-sequiter meant. I was fairly certain I was using it right, found out that I was slightly incorrect, and then I shoe-horned it into those sentences. That’s how I grow my vocabulary in an age where I’d rather watch anything on a screen before I even think about opening a book. Unless the thing on the screen has subtitles. Because I would rather nap than watch a foreign move- it’s called Patriotism.

2. I don’t know if I’m cool enough to listen to rap anymore. When I was a spritely lad, delving into hip-hop for the first time, the main focus seemed to be on money, cash, and hoes. Also weed. Now it’s a bit more:

It seems like EVERYONE is fucked up on promethazine these days. Even my boy Drake “leans” on the reg now. WTF. Apparently when Drizzy-Dray says, “could be purple, it could be pink,” it means that he varies the amount of drugs in his cup and not vodka. I’m old. It reminds me of when I won my argument against my brother’s babysitter whether or not Jay-Z actually said, “Can I get a fuck you?!” He did.

(the song I posted is so fire though)

3. I left Philly and I couldn’t be happier. Not that I didn’t love the City of Brotherly Love but I am a country mouse. While I was in the Philthiest state to date I met great people, ate great food, and drank great beers. Green Day and the drummer from Styx ate at the restaurant I worked at. So did Chip Kelly. I cooked pasta for Charlie Manuel at 11 PM one night and if that sounds the slightest bit cool, believe me it wasn’t.

Leaving PA also means I am closing the chapter on Philly girls. Thank god. No longer will I receive texts like:

blogpicdick

Well maybe I could get that type of text again. But from a respectable girl who makes me want to “put a ring on it” rather than just come on it. Nothing against girls I’ve came on.

Stay classy.

4. Newsroom Sucks. Mostly. I like Sloane because she’s hot and somewhat cool..even though her character is just as flawed as the rest of them on this pompous show. Also Don is cool because he’s the least flawed and he’s getting dangerously close to banging Sloane. And she takes dirty pics. Score.

The scene where Jeff Daniels storms into the police station and asks a police officer to answer for the death of Anwar al-Awlaki is the most self-important trash I have ever seen. And that’s even for HBO where the pilot of GIRLS included characters likening themselves to members of the Sex in the City cast…give me a break. (I’d be Mr. Big but more like Mr. Girth)

Also the scene in the finale (part fucking one because we couldn’t figure out the sequential order of the show?) where Jane Fonda gives them a pep-talk about how they would just figure out how to just get the trust of the people back after the Genoa incident made me throw up. Like, I had just finished a bowl of Lite Vanilla ice cream and I threw it up. That’s $2 and about 20 total hours of my life I’ll never get back. Thanks Aaron!

5a. The phrase, “no pantyhose,” works better as a dirty girl group. Like- “here come’s the No Panty Hoes, a group of sassy 20-somethings taking back their sexuality. They really are ’bout dat life.” Clearly Miley Cyrus is the front-slut and Selena Gomez dances backstage because she’s not 18 yet.

5b. This shirt rocks- go Sox:

blogpicbeards

Also Rabbit Rabbit, douchebags.

“We’re just gonna watch her cry and be stupid”: The Bachelorette Live Blog Returns

Americans can’t seem to find common ground on anything these days. Whether you’re talking about the climate change, gay marriage, Obamacare or Johnny Manziel, it’s not difficult to find someone willing to put up their metaphorical dukes and verbally pummel an opposing viewpoint. However, there’s one thing that Americans from Miami to Anchorage can agree on: this season of The Bachelorette was the motherfucking pits.

To be honest, there are no shortage of scapegoats to thrust a reproachful finger at. This season’s crop of assembly line bros were exceptionally dull even by the franchise’s vanilla standards, which I mean to be an insult but upon further review is actually a mind-blowing achievement. It started with Kasey’s hastags and was perpetuated by Brooks’s use of verbs and nouns like “walking,” “jogging,” “running” and “finish line” as his adjectives to describe love. Worse travesties occurred along the way that my mind must have purged, because somehow, the ‘Nator and I were front and center for the entire escapade. The men’s efforts to describe their feelings for Des and the whole season can be summed up in a single analogy: it was a televised version of a finger painting hanging on a proud parent’s refrigerator that looks like a giant glob of smeared shit. I’m sure the bachelors’ parents and extended families were mighty proud of the performance, but without the bonds of affection created by shared bloodlines, America could only look on in horror.

Then there was Des.

I’ll put this out there: she seems like a nice girl. But she’s also kind of a dud. As a matter of fact, Des was so boring that the most boring guy on the show as well as the frontrunner for Des’s heart took himself out of the running last week. The breakup was an excruciating marathon of unintelligible bullshit and meaningless platitudes, so I can only make a conjecture as to the true motivation behind Brooks’s decision to hit the bricks, but I suspect it can best be summed up by my friend Sherwood. We were hanging out one day in college and Sherwood said, “As soon as I hook up with a girl, I immediately lose respect for her. That sounds worse than I mean it… but if she’s willing to hook up with me, there’s no telling what she’s capable of.” So in a feat of self-awareness unprecedented in Bachelorette history, Brooks took himself out of the running because he figured any woman choosing him out of a batch of garden variety bros had to have a screw loose.

Brooks’s departure left Des an emotional train wreck heading into tonight’s episode, so to ease the inevitable disappointment the ‘Nator and I took in the season finale with an all-star cast that was sure to be better than Chris Harrison’s half-assed offering. Special thanks to cousins Kim and Jenn as well as the ‘Nator’s sister Alissa for joining us and finding a way to make the evening entertaining. Kathleen, tip of the cap to you for having the good sense to flea our apartment like a crime scene before the massacre began. Without further ado…

0:00 – And we’re off. Chris Harrison begins the proceedings with a quick synopsis of last week: “Desiree gave her heart completely to someone who didn’t love her back. What will Desiree do, can she still find the love and happiness she deserves?” Alissa doesn’t seem nearly as mystified by this evening’s prospects: “We’re just gonna watch her cry and be stupid.”

0:03 – Cut to sad bachelor music and Des walking onto a balcony as she voices over a “woe is me” speech. Alissa is not impressed. “Her hair looks terrible, like she doesn’t have enough protein or something.” As a registered dietician she’s completely qualified to make that comment. Apparently Des is still searching for reasons why Brooks left less week. The ‘Nator has a theory: “Because she likes boys.” “With Drew,” Kim quickly offers for two points and the win.

0:05 – Chris Harrison lets out a longing sight as he sits down with Des as she breaks down in tears. “I’m OK when people don’t ask,” says Des, clad in a dress that was clearly inspired by a Miami Dolphins cheerleading uniform. Des goes on, “My spirit has been broken, and I don’t want them to feel how I feel.” Hagan lets out a disgusted, “I cannot watch two hours of breaking up with people.” “You will though,” says Jenn. The pace and quality of the commentary in this rooms has me feeling like I’m living in a sitcom.

0:10 – Chris Harrison manages to lead Des through her grief and into a rose ceremony because he’s reality Tv’s Pied Piper of love. Drew arrives looking like he’s ready for a photo shoot. Say what you will about Drew, but the man’s a total fox. Chris quickly joins him at the rose ceremony and the pair looks uncomfortable as they try to figure out why they’re the only two in attendance.

0:13 – Des explains, “Brooks chose to go home on his own yesterday,” through tears. “I’m not going to let yesterday break my spirit.” Could’ve fooled us, Des. She immediately breaks into more tears. Chris looks like he wants to recite a poem.

0:15 – As the roses are about to go out the DVR freezes inciting panic in our apartment. We’re comforted by the fact that there are two dudes and two roses and this will be the least dramatic rose ceremony ever. Nonetheless, Jenn begins praying out loud and it seems to have worked. “It’s kind of like the TV farted,” says Alissa as she reflects on the situation.

0:18 – Chris and Drew gladly cheers Des after they receive their roses, ignoring the fact that the girl they’re supposedly in love with has been weeping over the fact that they’re her only remaining options.

0:20 – We return from commercial to find two dudes in the studio audience sitting behind Chris Harrison. I considered commenting before I realized that we’ve both got similar gender ratios surrounding us and I’m live-blogging an episode of The Bachelorette. Glass houses, you know?

0:25 – We return to Antigua to find that “We’re still putting up with the charade,” according to the Nator. Des continues to make questionable wardrobe decisions. “You are not Pocahontas!.” says the Nator as Des pulls up to Drew on horseback looking like a Powhatan dream.

0:27 – Drew seems optimistic heading into the date. “I’m so certain in what I’m doing that I just can’t wait to follow through with it,” he says. On the other hand, Des doesn’t seem to be feeling it, which isn’t surprising. Drew pulls out a bottle of wine and toasts to “being madly in love,” as Des prepares to break up with him. Had he added “With Brooks” to the end of his toast he would have been totally on point. Des quickly breaks down as struggles to understand that he’s being broken up with.

0:31 – Drew says “I don’t knew” at least half a dozen times as he tries to respond to the breakup. Des tries to offer some comfort, but no words come out… just noises.

0:33 – Drew prepares to leave as Jenn asks, “Does he get to take the horse back?” These are important questions. He walks across the beach looking despondent and offers, “I really loved her… She’s the most amazing woman I’ve ever met.” Seems like he could use a ride on Mikey T’s love boat.

0:35 – Turns out Drew will be taking off in a seven person van. Glad that’s settled. We pan back to a silent audience in the studio with Chris Harrison as Chris continues to pronounce finale as if it rhymes with Dinali. I really hope that I’m not the one who has this wrong. I’ll confer with Mr. Webster. Yes, I was right.

0:42 – We return as Chris and Des begin their date by heading out on a catamaran to what sounds like a  tune from the Titanic soundtrack. This guy’s gotta be toast. They’re on the front of the boat looking like Jack and Rose Dawson while Des tries to talk herself into Chris in the confessional and America waits for their romance to ram into a metaphorical iceberg at 20 knots.

0:45 – We’re off the boat and Des heads to Chris’s room where they immediately begin sucking face. “I wonder how he’s gonna feel knowing that he’s sloppy seconds,” asks Alissa. Great question.

0:47 – Chris and Des sit down in his room while Chris goes on about how excited he is to see what the future brings. Seems like a poem is on the way.

0:50 – Des assures Chris that she would like him to meet her family. The rest of us wonder if Des’s brother will be there while Chris offers Des the gift of a journal that includes all of the poems that he’s written her. I’m assuming they’ve been transcribed in crayons.

0:53 – Des breaks down as she explains that no one’s ever loved her as much as she’s loved them, and feels guilty that she hadn’t loved Chris from the beginning. I won’t hold it against her.

0:55 – Jackie, Leslie and Lindsey from last season are back along with Sean and Katherine to offer their thoughts. Sean and Katherine talk about their relationship and look somewhat uncomfortable. Probably because they’re talking about one of his ex-girlfriends while three more look on. Fucking nightmare for Sean, no way I’d survive that firing squad.

0:58 – Jackie thinks that Chris and Des are a good couple because they look good together, which frankly, is all you need. So long as Hagan and I keep our shit tight we’ll be in good shape according to that logic. Kim confirms we’re on the right track. Thanks! Leslie thinks Chris and Des look happy. Lindsey is less convinced. Let’s get back to the film!

1:02 – Bathroom breaks for everyone. Apparently, slugging wine all night has its downfalls.

1:10 – Des takes a step onto her balcony for some introspective shots as she ponders introducing Chris to her family. We’re all really hoping that Des’s black sheep brother will be prominently involved in the proceedings. Chris seems concerned as well, I’m assuming that he’ll overdo it and Des’s brother will go scorched earth on his goofy ass.

1:11 – Des’s brother plays up the dickhead angle right off the bat and takes control of the conversation. He’s taking a different approach this time around and decides to harp on the fact that Des has been dating multiple dudes throughout their courtship while Chris looks uncomfortable.

1:13 – Des’s brother takes a seat at the head of the dinner table because he’s in control of the situation. He asks Chris if he would be devastated if Des chose Drew instead of him. It seems to be a question asked in earnest, because people without souls rarely have feelings according to all of my ginger friends.

1:15 – Chris steps off with Des’s dad to ask for her hand in marriage. After a moment of contemplation her dad agrees and tells Chris to “Take care of her.” Speaking from experience, these conversations rarely go so well when there are no cameras around to capture the proceedings.

1:16 – Des takes a moment to sit down with her brother who promptly asks whether or not Chris is the one she’d like to spend the rest of her life with and encourages her to “settle for nobody.” He goes on to point out that when he saw her back in LA she was going on and on about Brooks. This kid plants seeds of depression like he’s the Johnny Appleseed of misery. How have Connor and Murphy MacManus not taken care of this dickhead by now? Wait, Boondock Saints wasn’t real.

1:20 – We return to the studio after a commercial break as Chris throws it back to Antigua for a potential proposal. Chris sits down with Neil Lane who has some diamond monstrosities for him to peruse.

1:24 – Chris and Des head to thunderdome to see whether or not Des is truly over Brooks. The room is skeptical and Des seems to be as well. If she turns down Crhis after dragging him out to the Love Proving Ground she’s a total bitch.

1:27 – Chris takes a deep breath and prepares to take the long walk to Des before meeting Chris Harrison halfway to be led to his emotional execution. There’s are canons in the background, not a good sign.

1:29 – Chris launches into his proposal speech while Des pretends to be into it. “I don’t want to make decisions for me anymore. I want to make decisions with you for us.” As he prepares to drop to knee Des tells him to stop. Chris holds it together while he clearly wants to punch her in the face. Des informs Chris that she sent Drew home 5 minutes into their date before diving deep into her infatuation with Brooks. She goes into a sob story, then tells Chris that he’s been the one for her all along and then brings it home with an “I love you so much.” Chris re-drops to knee and tells Des that he’d like to be her first and last before they start passionately necking. “I still hate her,” says Alissa.

1:36 – We dive into a Chris and Des montage full of goofy moments and amateur rhyme before Des offers Chris her final rose.

1:40 – And we’re back in a studio full of estrogen and raw emotion with Chris Harrison and a few dozen women as he welcomes a glowing Des to the stage. Des thinks it was special to “Go through the heartbreak to see the beauty in love.” Glad she enjoyed it.

1:45 – Chris Harrison wants to bring it back to Brooks and asks if she’s nervous to see him. Des laughs uncomfortably for a short eternity before delivering a hand in the cookie jar, “No!” I’ll be honest, she didn’t quite sell it.

1: 48 – Brooks comes out with short hair and a 5 o’clock shadow. Brooks goes on about how badly he wanted the relationship to work out, which is funny, because he pulled the trigger on the break-up. Des pounces and asks what happened between hometowns and Antigua that made him change his mind. Brooks spouts out a bunch of platitudes that fail to convey complete thoughts. I bet he’d get along really well with Alex Rodriguez.

1:53 – “After you left, it was really good,” Des explains to Brooks as she informs him that she’s engaged to Chris. Take that, quitter.

1:56 – We’re back in the studio to welcome Drew to the stage in a Don Draper-esque three-piece and hair that’s become significantly less douchey. Chris Harrison turns the floor over to Drew so that he can ask Des any questions that might still be lingering. Drew goes into an aggressive line of questioning regarding when Des knew that she was more into the remaining guys. Des manages to avoid admitting exactly when she knew that she would be dismissing Drew. Brooks has clearly rubbed off.

2:05 – Chris and Des are reunited in public for the first time to give Chris Harrison the rundown of their “journey.” They’re looking awfully uncomfortable together as we go back to the video of Chris’s proposal. Des is on the verge of tears for the 437th time tonight. Hagan’s over it. She’s opted for flossing in lieu of a second round of tonight’s proposal. Not an awful idea, I’ve had some arugula lodged between my third and fourth molars for the past five hours. What a debacle.

2:12 – Chris prepares to read a framed poem that he’s written for Des adorned with all of his roses from the rose ceremonies. I can’t wait to buy that thing when it shows up on eBay in three months.

2:14 – We’re back with Chris Harrison to introduce the next bachelor, which is clearly Juan Pablo. We’re treated to a nice Juan Pablo montage which proves him to be pretty much the hottest dude ever. His daughter Camila was born on February 14, 2009, and “she’s his Valentine forever.” Not a dry eye in the place.

2:18 – Juan Pablo comes out for what will inevitably one of the more awkward interviews in franchise history as every member of the live studio audience ovulates uncontrollably. Turns out Juan Pablo’s season will get going in January. Judging by the members of the studio audience that have stormed the stage, it seems unlikely that he’ll be single for that long.

Best Coast.

I feel like starting a concert review blog post thing is a really good idea. So I’m doing it. So suck it.

Best Coast.

Best Coast.

Just to give you guys perspective on where I was at physically and mentally, I got out of my cab and retreated to hit up the local Rite Aid. I bought some Zantac and Immodium AD and a bottle of Poland Springs (the best bottled water this side of Fiji). I popped one of each because my stomach was feeling not the best stuff ever.

I had planned on going to this show with a couple of friends but, like always, they had plans. ‘Tis the bullshittery that comes along with working in the food industry. So ya- I went to the show alone. Fuck you if you think that’s weird. Also – and just for context – before the summer, I looked up all the Tuesday and Wednesday shows I could/wanted to go to because those are the only days I can really get off during the week. Best Coast definitely fit that bill after only a couple minutes of YouTube searching.

I got to the show wicked late- billing said the whole shebang started at 8 and I got there, with my shitter clogged and my tummy acid assuaged, at around 9:45. I was happy I did because BC didn’t go on until closer to 10. The crowd was super mixed- old, young, couples, and me. Is there a fucking rule that if you go to a show with your girlfriend that you must dance in a prom position the whole night? The people that stood in front of me were great for people watching. In front of me I had a girl that looked like her name was Maggie- take that for what it’s worth, a couple where the man was 6 inches shorter than his woman, who wore mid waisted jeans and did a non-ironic Carlton the whole night, and girl under 5 ft. who lost all control and was dancing so furiously that the maintenance crew had to refloor the place after the show.

The show was at the Theater of Living Arts, my favorite venue so far in Philly. It’s small and old looking and the tickets are always cheap. Never seen a bad show there. To be honest the tickets were actually free due to an acquaintance of mine who is/was blowing a dude who works there. That’s not entirely true but it’s close enough where I feel confident writing it.

Since I was alone and my stomach was sour and I was fighting poop, I obviously got a 16 oz. Miller Lite. It tasted great like it always does and I nestled into a decently unimpeded view of the stage. After a rousing rendition of “I Need You Baby” half from the DJ and half from the crowd, the band took the stage and immediately got down to business.

Aside- I smoked my fair share of pot my freshman year. Never really took a shine to it even though I gave it the ol’ college try. That being said, the sweet smell of weed smoke in the air at a concert really cements the atmosphere. You smell the sticky icky and you know where you’re at.

Now due to my YouTube-ing and Googling, I knew that Bethany Cosentino was no eye sore. What I didn’t know was that she is fucking absolutely unbelievably marry-able. Oh gosh did I fall in love all at once. It was the, she had sexy tattoos and mentioned her undies riding up, kind of LOVE. For the rest of the band, Bobb Bruno, the other main staple of the group, nailed lead. They had a handsome hipster rhythm guitarist/bassist/whatever else he decided to play who I took a shining to, as well. However, there happened to be a guy who looked like a rapist on drums. That actually pissed me off because most vids I saw featured Ali Koehler, from Vivian Girls, on the beat makers. The sexual predator did good tho. Whatever.

Pt. 1 of Bethany Cosentino hotness.

Pt. 1 of Bethany Cosentino hotness.

The music was great. Really it was. Most of the songs beg the question if livin’ on the West Coast, would really be the Best Coast…. I surmise it may be. If I worked for Spin or Trolling Stone magazine, I might complain that the songs all sounded similar but I don’t get paid to write. I just do it for the chicks. And I actually liked the similarity in the sound because that’s why I went to the show. I wanted a girl singing Cali rock and that’s what I got. Also the songs were short and usually hookless. I really liked that since I’m not a longtime fan of the band. I hate the shows where every dickhead is singing along with a part I feel like I should know. Even though I was unfamiliar with the music, there were lines I was especially was in tune with- “if I sleep on the floor- will it make you love me more?” was especially nice. The songs were mostly upbeat but when it came time to get sexy, Cosentino didn’t disappoint. I mean, I’m in love. I’m clearly compromised in this part of the review. The crowd’s favorite was definitely:


I know that Bethany might not like the comparison (we’re friends and she goes by Beth…) but she was like a super West Cost, surfery version of Zooey Deschanel in the way that she commanded the mic and the vocals were just all her all night. No back ups no nothing. And she had the perfect kind of live voice for me. On a scale of 1 – Freddie Mercury, she wasn’t Fred but she didn’t miss a beat. She played her voice into her wheelhouse and delivered the same sound that you hear on the CD. I daresay she’s got the best ooh’s and ahh’s in the biz.

She drank beer, which got me wet because I was drinking beer too. 6 pints during the performance – to her one. I was thirsty. They interacted with the crowd nicely saying they watched Snakes on a Plane and Soul Plane that day..they deemed Soul Plane the superior but really, they’re both A+ stuff. Also she bragged that one song was on a JC Penny commercial, which made me laugh for some reason. I was smitten, alright?

I couldn’t decided how to grade shows but this is how I’m gonna do it for now.
1.) Wouldn’t go again
2.) Might go again
3.) Would go again

This is a Would Absolutely Go Again!

Someone tell that singer that I would go down on her, up on her, and side to side on her.

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Pt. 2 of Bethany Cosentino cornea scorching.

The Coolest Person in America – Andy Enfield

Monday mornings are the pits.  The worst part of the day is rolling into work first thing in the morning while the weekend’s exploits still weigh heavy on the mind, particularly the people that you were fortunate enough to share those exploits with. While inside jokes and witty digs float around your brain, you walk into your office and you’re suddenly neck deep in a sea of social mediocrity that doesn’t quite stack up. Then you’ve got to confront the reality that you’ll have to spend the next five days keeping your commentary PC and overselling other people’s bad jokes just so that you can continue to afford bottle service beers once happy hour ends on Friday and be cool again. What a racket.

Fortunately, the American consciousness is littered with people who manage to dominate Monday through Friday and right on through the weekend. They make the rest of us believe that one day we can do the same, and on Monday mornings from now on, TBSE will be telling you all about them in a new weekly segment that I’ve chosen to call “The Coolest Person in America.”  For the sake of full disclosure, I have no clue how to sustain this kind of awesome.  However, by pointing out who the coolest person in America is each Monday morning, I hope to find the common thread that weaved their dreams into reality and eventually sew dual Technicolor Dreamcoats of awesome for Tuna and I to rock on our way into high society.

Andy EnfieldLike 64 other coaches this year, Andy Enfield led the upstart Eagles of Florida Gulf Coast University into the NCAA tournament.  Like 32 other coaches, Enfield led the Eagles to an opening round victory, becoming only the seventh 15 seed in tournament history to do so.  Like 16 other coaches, Enfield and the Eagles logged a second victory, the first time that a 15 seed had ever moved on to the Sweet 16.  All of this is impressive, but it’s all only footnote to what makes Enfield the coolest person in America this morning.

Basketball is Enfield’s second career.  Previously he started a software company in New York called TractManager that manages contracts for healthcare companies. He left the $100 million company to his partner in 2006 to pursue a career as a basketball coach and still retains some ownership with no management responsibilities. Frankly, this would have been enough for me. I probably would have spent the rest of my life living off those royalties and maybe posting content to this blog more than once every six months.  Whatever. That’s probably a valuable insight into my mediocrity.  I’ll ignore it.

Before leaving the city he managed to pluck a stunning super model named Amanda Marcum for his wife.  According to Enfield, he took her to Taco Bell and a St. John’s basketball game on their first date, presumably because the Xbox console in his parents’ basement was unavailable that night. Somehow that worked out and he managed to get the former Amanda Marcum to agree to have her life go from this…

 Amanda Marcum

to this…

Amanda Marcum Mom

I’m convinced that Andy Enfield’s soul is the spiritual equivalent of John Ham’s wiener or Gene Keady’s combover: simply the best in the biz. So is his super model wife. So are the players he got to agree to come to an under-the-radar school like Florida Gulf Coast.  So is America.

Well played, Andy Enfield. The rest of America has a long way to go.

 
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