Advice from a walking male vagina

Who's with me in no longer caring about the illogical bullshit women are looking for in men? But that doesn't stop a lot of assholes from trying to make money off of it. The mangina below, for example, courtesy of date.com, tells us the 10 "mistakes" men make with women. Predictably, "not beating them" is not listed as a mistake. Enjoy my ever-objective interjections or shove them up your ass:

MISTAKE #1: Being Too Much Of A “Nice Guy”

Have you ever noticed that the really attractive women never seem to be attracted "nice" guys? Of course you have. Just like me, I'm sure you've had attractive female friends that always seemed to date "jerks"... but for some reason they were never romantically interested in YOU.

(Who cares? One less case of walking herpes I have to worry about.)

What's going on here?

(Where?)

It's actually very simple. Women don't base their choices of men on how "nice" a guy is. They choose the men they do because they feel a powerful GUT LEVEL ATTRACTION for them.

(Can someone please explain to me what "gut level attraction" is? I feel attraction in my loins, not my stomach.)

And guess what? Being nice doesn't make a woman FEEL that powerful ATTRACTION.

(Again, who gives a fuck? And why should any man change just to attract some North American skank who's only going to turn into a beached whale by the time she's 30? So you got laid -- here's a fucking cookie. You're still a sucker for not just getting a prostitute.)

And being NICE doesn't make a woman CHOOSE you. I realize that this doesn't make a lot of logical sense, and it's hard to ACCEPT... but GET OVER IT.

(No.)


MISTAKE #2: Trying To
“Convince Her To Like You"


(This one's boring, so I'll skip it.)



MISTAKE #3: Looking To Her For Approval Or Permission

In our desire to please women (which we mistakenly think will make them like us), us guys are always doing things to get a woman's "approval" or "permission". Another HORRIBLE idea. Women are NEVER attracted to the types of men who kiss up to them... EVER.

(This one I actually agree with, just not in the same way as this vagina with a wenis.)

Don't get me wrong here. You don't have to treat women BADLY for them to like you.

(What if I want to treat them badly?)

But if you think that treating a woman well means "always getting her approval and permission for things", think again. You will never succeed by looking for approval. Women actually get ANNOYED at men who seek their approval.

(Note to self: annoy a woman by pretending to look for her approval. Then attack with extreme prejudice.)

MISTAKE #4: Trying To “Buy” Her Affection
With Food And Gifts

(Boring.)


MISTAKE #5: Sharing “How You Feel” Too Early In The Relationship With Her

(Of course, relationships aren't about feelings or anything like that. Sheesh -- why fucking bother? NEXT!)


MISTAKE #6: Not “Getting” How Attraction Works For Women

Women are VERY different from men when it comes to ATTRACTION. You need to accept this fact, and deal with it.

(No.)

When a man sees a beautiful, young, sexy woman, he INSTANTLY feels a sexual attraction.

(And then I impale them with my massive phallus.)

But does the same apply for women?

(Who cares?)

Do women feel sexual attraction to men based mostly on looks? Or is something else going on? Well, after studying this topic for over five full years now, I can tell you that women usually have their "attraction mechanisms" triggered by things OTHER than looks.

Have you ever noticed that you see a lot more average and unattractive men with beautiful women than the other way around? Think about it.

(Think about what? I couldn't hear you with your girlfriend's cock in your mouth.)

Women are more attracted to certain qualities in men... and they're attracted to the way a man makes them FEEL than they are to looks alone.

(Ah yes, let's base our entire lives on "feelings." The ability to think logically is what makes men superior to women in the first place.)

If you know how to use your body language and communication correctly, you can make women feel the same kind of powerful sexual attraction to you that YOU feel when you see a hot, sexy young woman.

(Only if "body language" means bringing out the ol' bitch-pimpin' hand.)

But it's not an accident. You have to LEARN how to do this. And ANY guy can learn how...

(Oh yeah -- by buying his stupid book, of course. Save your money -- I can give you better advice in five words for free: DON'T CARE WHAT WOMEN WANT! Don't do a damn thing which compromises yourself and your personality just to get a little bit of overstretched, overrated pussy. Real men don't compromise, period. If you want to be a so-called "nice guy" then do it. The world needs more nice guys, not bitter ex-nice-guys-turned-assholes like me. If you legitimately want to be a "bad boy" (fag) then be one because that's who you are. Being true to yourself is the only way you won't feel like you've been raped up the ass by a woman who tries to rob you of your dignity. And EVERY SINGLE ONE of them will try to do just that.)

Bah -- I'm done with this entry. Go to hell...

Stupid ex-girlfriend tricks

The vast majority of the relationships I've had with women sucked. Because I can never seem to get the ones I want, I usually find myself stuck with any bone femalekind sees fit to offer me. Which, in reality, is pretty much the plight of all modern males. If a man likes a woman and chooses to show it in any kind of sincere way, it's a surefire turnoff for her and it's the guy's job to suck it up. But if one of them likes you and you don't return the favor -- hoo boy.

Here's an example of a woman who would NOT GIVE UP. Eventually, by sheer force of persistence, she eventually won me over, only to rip my heart out in the most callous of fashions. This e-mail, written to both myself and my friend Sharlene (name changed to protect the innocent) reflects the middle of this sordid story, shortly before Marianne (name changed to protect my own ass) and I met "IRL." I don't even remember what this whole argument between myself, Sharlene and Marianne was all about, but a lot can be told from tne circuituous logic the latter displayed and I, against my better judgment, chose to ignore. More to come...

"Dear Jeff and Sharlene,

It has come to my attention that things have somewhat been miscontrued and misunderstood. Which, considering my own deployment of safety barriers is absolutely understandable. But, because I have always had an intense need to be understood with 100% clarity, I thought I would take the time to (for once) take down my self-preservation barriers and write to both of you and explain what the hell I meant. Hopefully, this will not only make sense, but will help you both come to grips with who I am and where I'm at.

(It didn't help.)

I include Sharlene in this little explanation /clarification because she has spent far too many chats with me where Jeff has been the sole topic of conversation. And, I want Jeff to know that if Sharlene says something about what I may be thinking / feeling / reacting, she's probably right. I've pussyfooted around this issue too much. I shouldn't have. As a result I may have muddied the waters instead of clearing things up. So, here's my last ditch attempt to obtain understanding. After this, unless one or both of you bring it up, I will not revisit this topic again.

(Yeah, right.)

*chuckles* Most likely, once I hit send I'll be back in full battle armor again.

(That might hide your gigantic ass)

I have in the past and continue to call this trip to Canada my trip to crush the crush. Like LDRs, all crushes must come to an end: they must either blossom into something bigger or fade to dust and blow away. For far too long I have had a crush on Jeff; a crush that to my eyes has been completely unrequited.

(What the fuck was this bitch on? We HADN'T EVEN MET at this point...)

If I had been true to my self and true with Jeff this crush would have seen the light of day long ago. Instead, I was unable to get past my own perception of it's complete one-sidedness. I tried dating others, confessing it to my friends, doing all those little tips and tricks that I have used in the past to get over a passing crush.

(Geez -- I think I just may have dated someone who writes those stupid MSN advice stories. Who the fuck else says things like "tips and tricks to get over a passing crush"?)

In the end, I realized that for me, this is not an idle attraction. Somehow, someway my feelings for Jeff breached security and have become firmly rooted in my heart.

(Good God.)

Because I know of Jeff's great reluctance to ever enter into another LDR, I was able to hide behind my own very firm no-LDR rule.

(You should've STAYED there.)

As with every rule, exceptions do exist. And, Jeff is definitely an exception. But, like Jeff, I refuse to enter into anything but friendship until both parties have agreed that they have passed the meet and greet test. (No shit, cluetard.) I can not however, deny the fact that feelings do exist.

Jeff has been an extraordinary friend to me this past year. (My bad.) One who has somewhat unknowingly provided me major insight into my life, my beliefs, and my character. His continued friendship and ulitmate happiness is what I desire most.

(Yeah, and having said that you cheated on me why?)

I refrained from mentioning my attraction to him for so very long because I did not want to lose his friendship. It was only recently that I have come to recognize the error of my ways.

Like every other single person in existence, I am still nursing my own battle wounds. I have my own distinct fears and worries about the future; but I also have an unwavering hope and belief in the goodness of mankind.

(Not to mention your unwavering goal to destroy it.)

Maybe I'm too altruistic;

(No, you're not. You're a self-serving, self-interested yuppie asshole.)

maybe I'm too naive. I have never been able to shut myself down so much that I stopped feeling.

(Ever tried female curcumcision?)

And, it's a lesson in life that I sometimes wish I had learned; but am so grateful I haven't.

For too long in my life I knew only two emotions: happy and angry.

(I count four. Are "horny" and "stupid" emotions?)

About 7 years ago I began to learn that emotions are as varied as the colors of the rainbow; there are different degrees, shades and hues.

(Time to put that percocet away.)

Once I began to identify them I began to come alive; I found myself better able to relate with others. Most of all, I learned how to understand myself.

(I suppose somebody has to.)

Sometimes I feel like I'm the most put together person; othertimes I feel as if I am destined for the funny farm.

(You make this TOO easy.)

I have allowed myself to believe so fully that Jeff was not interested in me that I could never believe for very long that an interest (however small) might exist. Regardless of how Sharlene has tried to convince me to believe otherwise, my own fear of reading too much into the guarded phrases Jeff and I exchange has allowed me to cling to the belief that I stand alone in my attraction.

(And the Academy Award for Overacting in a Real-Life Melodrama No One Else Wanted to be Involved in goes to...)

And so, when I wrote that last long email I ignored what Sharlene had teased me about. I wrote it based on what I had seen from Jeff. And, all this poor delusional brain has seen from Jeff is the extension of the hand of friendship.

("Delusional." "Brain." "Extension." "Hand." Everything here is just too easy.)

What I want most of all from this trip to Canada is to come, meet my friends.

(That little comma after "come" was more than just a Freudian Slip, I think.)

To be able to meet Jeff, to see him in his element, to laugh and jest and tease each other. To be able to be myself; to be able to walk away without any "what-ifs". For all I know Jeff and I could meet and agree that friendship is the extent. But, then again, we could meet and find something much larger than us all.

(Who's this "all"? Two people don't make an "all." Unless one of the parties is less a "one" than a "many" if you catch my shiznut.)

For my feeble mind (If you're gonna be a target for my vicious streak, at least TRY to move), the former is much easier to fathom than the latter -- not because of a lack of desire for more, but because I'd rather not have to deal with a let down of false hopes and wishes.

I know what a truly wonderful man Jeff is.

(Ha-ha -- sucker...)

But, I also don't play games or mess with people's heads.

(No, she poos on them. Y'see, she makes it so easy that any kind of remotely mature reply would never suffice.)

This isn't my latest and greatest attraction; this isn't idle amusement. This is real. And, I know that I am capable of continuing friendships with those who are attracted to me when the attraction is not returned.

(Sucker.)

That was all I was hoping for from Jeff. Then he responded to my last long mingle mail and I gained a sliver of hope that maybe, just maybe more could develop. But, whether or not anything develops during that trip is almost entirely up to Jeff. To quote the country singer Billy Dean (Who?) "when it comes to love you don't count the cost." (Lame) I know the cost I'm willing to pay if a connection IRL is made; but from Jeff's guarded words his cost appears to be set at a much lower threshold.

-- Marianne"

Screw diversity

If I see a colored, crippled lesbian in a wheelchair, I'll kick her down a flight of stairs. And eat her.

For the good of humanity, spit your gum at Britney Spears

In today's politically-correct world, men no longer have the option to kill a wandering grizzly bear with their bare hands or beat a random female when they begin to feel like an approaching-middle-age loser who's spinning his wheels in life. But this life is all about adaptation, after all, and my prescription for the mid-life blues is to bash washed-up celebrities who won't go away. And Britney Spears is beyond doubt the Antichrist of that particular subspecies of human being.

The breaking point came today as I was reading my Calgary Sun (yes, I should have known better, but I make my own rules so shut up) and whose fat pregnant NAKED ass should I see right on the second page? Why, the ubiquitous Ms. Spears, of course. Funny thing is that I thought she had her stupid baby months ago already -- why are they printing this now? I didn't bother to find out; all I know is that this is the last straw. And I'm gonna do something about it.

"What difference," you snivel, "do you think someone like YOU, a washed-up, paunchy WHITE MALE, can possibly hope to make?" Well, see if you can follow along with this, asshole: I chew a lot of gum. I need a place to dispose of said gum. Why not send one stick of chewed-up gum to Britney Spears' publicity office in its own envelope every time I read, without any desire of my own, Britney Spears' name in the newspaper or on the Internet or hear her name anywhere but on the local teenybopper station or MTV, both of which I avoid like herpes?

Come to think of it, this whole gum statement thing draws quite a profound analogy to Britney Spears' career and, alas, Britney Spears herself: a chewed-up piece of substanceless bubblegum covered in some guy's saliva. Well, in the case of Britney Spears -- and not my gum -- MANY guys' saliva, but I'm only willing to go so far to make a point.

Stop writing about your stupid lives already!!!

What is it about today's narcissistic society that makes people think that hordes of people care about the minutiae of their day-to-day existence? When this whole stupid blogging thing started, I thought people would take it as an opportunity to do something a lot of people had been doing for years (and paying for bandwidth space for, like I really should be doing): posting their wackjob thoughts in cyberspace for the entertainment of all. Instead all we have is "I woke up this morning, took a shit, beat my kid, went to bed." Who the hell cares?

I'd like to think my little anti-female rants at least provide some entertainment value. I wouldn't expect anyone to visit here if I didn't. Why? Because my life's BORING. I don't even wanna read about it, let alone foist it onto other people. And most of your lives are boring, too. The only real excitement this life offers is thought, humor and imagination -- everything else is just plain old survival.

The fat, ugly girl's guide to getting the man of your dreams

Fat? Ugly? Female? Fret not, oh portly and aesthetically-challenged one, hope is not lost. With a little patience and my expert, can't-fail advice, you too can be as big a cocktease and bitch as your prettier and shapelier counterparts (and we know that's really what it's all about; it's not about not being able to find a boyfriend, but being able to reject as many guys as possible in order to stroke your ego and feel superior to other girls who can't).

1.) The Internet is your friend -- embrace it. It gives you opportunities to perform a complete and total mindfuck on your victim that could put the day-to-day lying, cheating and backstabbing of your hotter friends to shame. However, there's a distinct process to this. Read on...

2.) Choose your victim. Watch how he talks in chat rooms and on message boards. Keep your Google window open to look up things he's interested in and that you don't have a clue about.

3.) Distance is good. The method we're talking about here takes time and patience. You don't want to meet the guy too soon -- in fact, I'd recommend waiting a year before even talking about it, and that's a lot easier if the guy lives a long ways away. As much time as you can keep the illusion going (see point 4), the better.

4.) Only post photos of yourself that reflect your younger, hotter days, if you had any. If not, then go to work with the ol' Adobe Photoshop and turn that sow's tail of yours into a silk purse.

5.) Hit him when he's down -- or up. A guy is at his most vulnerable when a.) he's just been dumped by his girlfriend or b.) he's at a stage where he's very optimistic about his life. When someone is that positive, they're more likely to give people the benefit of a doubt and accept faults like an ass that makes you look like you're perpetually wearing clown pants. Either way, these are the times when you want to spring the possibility of a relationship on him.

6.) Finally, after a year of developing a "deep friendship," hit him with pics of what you REALLY look like, but not before he's invested in an expensive plane ticket to come see you. Sure, he'll gag, but remember that you've strategically worn him down over an entire year. He'll kick himself for being so shallow and will come see you anyway because he has such a "deep friendship" with you.

7.) Okay, this is where the real work begins. For however long he's there, do everything you can to take his mind off what an ugly cow you are. To compensate, you will have to put your best face forward (pun intended) and hide your many personality flaws to the best of your ability. Get him in the dark (so he can't see you) and make out lots.

8.) Okay, you've got him! Although there's still the question of distance, you now have him so pussy-whipped that he's ready to leave his family, friends and a job so he can move closer to you.

And this is when you will invariably fuck up.

You see, too many women who are successful with this method start to think that it was THEY who lured their poor sucker in when it was really the PROCESS that did it. You will actually start thinking that men can simply not resist your feminine charms, and you will dump the chump for greener pastures. Not that it matters anyway; by that point your disgusting personality will have become all-too-apparent to the guy. His "love goggles" will come off and he will see you for the hideous monster you are inside and out.

Happy hunting, ladies...

Some upcoming changes

As I'm sure that you check this site for updates ten times a day (loser), you've probably already recognized that I've finally received some comments on here. Although her writing was barely intelligible, Jubilat -- proving that women can occasionally be good for something -- pointed out the inconsistency of my attitude towards the LDS Church. And she's right; very little I write about anymore has anything to do with it, so I'm planning to chuck the Mormon theme in the blog title and elsewhere. That doesn't mean I won't do the occasional Mormon-related entry; it just won't be a major focus of the site. So I do what I want -- fuck you.

But speaking of comments, I'd like to lay down a few ground rules. Well, actually one ground rule -- that there are no ground rules. As far as I'm concerned, pile on all of the insults and ad hominem attacks you want; I'll still print them because I know I'm right anyway and don't feel the need to censor the words of morons who are already making asses of themselves.

Well, actually, there IS a ground rule. Sort of. I would prefer that you limit your arguments to one post only -- anything more than that and I can only assume you're trying to engage debate with me, which I have absolutely no interest in or time for. Don't ask me to "back up" my opinions -- the stuff I say is true because I SAY SO. I don't care what some feminist with a PhD in sticking her thumb up her ass has to say about anything, not when I think she could be putting her life to better use by doing my housework and keeping her legs spread for convenience. So don't bother to argue. But if you do, keep your points interesting. Being boring is this site's only executable crime, and will land your comments in dumpsville if you insist on being so.

Feminists love killing babies...

Here's evidence of why feminists suck. By the way, whatever stupid cunt who quoted the Dead Kennedys out of context deserves to be turned into so much roasting bitchflesh for that reason alone...

God kill me now -- the modern skank at work

Here's a link to yet another trend showing modern women behaving badly. If this is the kind of thing I have to look forward to from my future wife, I'll trade it all in for my good right hand and a jar of Vaseline...

Welcome to Fullofshitville -- population: you

Warning: Do not read this post around sharp objects -- I fully clear myself of all responsibility for any sudden, spontaneous suicide attempts.

We are only ever in one of two stages in life: a.) making a decision or b.) rationalizing the decision. Mormons are particularly good at rationalization because the life ideals we are expected to follow more often than not contradict everything we desire on a physical or emotional level. This seems like a horrible situation to be in, but in reality it's not. What it means is that we always have an easy out: we can base a stupid decision on spiritual grounds when we know forking well that it's only because something did or did not float our horny boats at the time.

Male/female physical attractiveness is often gauged (by idiots) on a continuum of 1-10. So let's lump everything else we look for in a mate (spirituality, earning potential, etc) on the same continuum. Within this continuum we're going to ignore the obvious deal-breaking extremes such as abuse (I'm talking about real physical and sexual abuse -- not bullshit you think of in retrospect to justify your decisions. If you look at it in that perspective, you'll find that surprisingly few people are guilty of abuse).

Using that continuum we quickly find that -- surprise, assholes! -- we're all perfect "fives." A person can be an ace entrepreneur yet have the spiritual instincts of a one-celled organism. Similarly, a person can seem incredibly spiritual when in reality they're using their "spirituality" to cover a vast number of weaknesses: lack of ambition, insecurity, body odor -- you name it. It doesn't matter; we all meet in the middle somewhere and are all equally full 0f shit. Furthermore, even if they are legitimately spiritual, that is still not a perfect measurement of character because you CAN'T measure character perfectly until you see how someone reacts to an uncomfortable or life-changing experience. In other words, the extent to which pure survival instincts take over.

What does this all mean? It doesn't matter who you marry because it's all based on looks anyway. People who are ready to marry marry just about anyone as long as they're attractive. People not ready to marry will reject just about anyone. So stop rationalizing shit and acknowledge it.

Now go fuck off -- you're bothering me...