A Pick Me Up
I think anyone who haphazardly lets the spectacle of VH1 grace their TV screen is sucked in. There’s no method nor reasoning behind it, other than VH1’s programming is that entertaining and is the equivalent of visual crack. Thus, on those rare occasions I can actually take the remote from Avery’s cold lifeless hands, I switch the channel from Sports Center to VH1 and let my brain shut off and the good times roll.
The latest onslaught of visual crack is this show called the “Pick Up Artist.” If you’ve seen it and you’re female you may understand where I’m coming from, if not, I somehow still think you’ll understand where I’m coming from. The premise lies in the fact that there are 8 calignyephobics who are so frustrated and dismayed with their endeavors to attract and engage dollies they have decided to go on national television to let all of TV land know how pathetic they are and seek help from the worlds self-proclaimed best pick up artist: Mystery.
Problem Number One: This guy claims to be a master pick up artist and claims to have the expertise to engage any woman. In theory, I can see how that could be true, especially if every time he and his crew are going to pick up women they do so at a bar and they continually go for the same type of woman, but women aren’t really that simple. You men shake your head, but in reality, women aren’t. And guess what? Men aren’t that simple either. I’m not going to lie, men are much more simple then women, but in the grand scheme of relationships I’d say nothing is simple enough that it can be taught, otherwise, couples therapy wouldn’t be such a crock of shit, right? Not to mention people are individualistic enough that there can’t be a 100% surefire way to hook, line, and sinker them. Where men and women differ most is their objectives as a single person, and this is where the bar scene comes into play. Engaging a single guy at a bar, with initial attraction being a given, is as easy as some sexual innuendo and some allusion to him getting some form of action sometime during the night. If all goes to plan, that guy will be eating out of the bokkie’s palm no problem. Don’t believe me? How often do guys go out of their way to meet up with a group of chicks they’ve talked to sometime during the night, even if only one guy may possibly get laid? How many times has a guy “taken one for the team” so his friend could potentially close the deal? Now switch it: How many times has a group of women done the same? Not nearly as often, and I’m almost positive that no woman would sit idly by and talk to the ugly fat friend just so her friend could chat up the good looking bloke, let alone so she can hook up with him. Why? Because women are inherently fucked up in the head.
Engaging a single woman is damn near impossible. For starters, women always travel in herds that resemble a silent dictatorship in the sense that even if 9 girls are having fun, if girl number 10 wants to leave, the herd will evacuate and follow girl number 10’s instructions. If you want one of us you have to somehow engage all of us, and if one of us wants to go there goes the woman you’ve spent all night talking to and buying drinks for, and, though she may have enjoyed the conversation and though she may think you’re a swell guy, odds are the only thing you’ll have to show for making a connection with her is a higher than normal credit card bill. Also, if the girl does show up where you are, you can bet she’s brought her drama gaggle as well, and that crew, whether consciously or not, has one goal: to cock block you. Most often, it comes down to the fact mentioned above, because while she has you, they have no one and that’s not allowed. Even if there are 10 guys in the group and 10 girls in the group, not all 10 guys will be “attractive” and there’s no way girl number whatever will sit back and take one for the team, like anyone in the group of guys would. Catty bitches that we are, if she’s chatting up a hot bloke and we aren’t, then she won’t be for long. Even if you have the girl all alone talking to you, it’s not 100% she’ll give you her number, it’s not even 100% that she likes you. She may have her eye on a guy across the bar and, being as fucked in the head as we women can be, thinks that by talking to you she’ll get him to talk to her. Hell, she may just be waiting for the other gals she’s there with to come out of the bathroom so they can go somewhere else, and getting a free drink out of you is far better than shelling out $8 for a drink she’ll only drink half of.
Basically, the only surefire way to pick up a girl in any setting, but in particular a bar setting, is to hone in on the girls who are there for the same reason the single guy is there, which is to get physical, PHYSICAL! {pardon the 80’s song reference} You know the girl I’m talking about-the one who’s sloppy drunk, buying shots, and who generally fits into the stereotype for a sorority girl whether she is one or not. She’s the only girl that will willingly talk to a random guy that approaches her without some holier-than-thou who-the-fuck-are-you attitude prefacing the entire interaction, and in general she has nothing but getting some dick on her mind, which is a great thing for that guy, but does it really quantify as picking her up? Does doing the smack-jiggle all night and most likely never seeing her again quantify as picking a woman up? Or is it just getting into drunken debauchery? These 8 sods are characterized as “good guys,” and they all said, without falter, they would like a girlfriend. Sure, practice is practice, but is chatting up a future hook-up really the same as chatting up what could be your future? Arguable, to say the least.
Problem Number Two: The “master pick up artist’s” name is Mystery, and as part of completion of the course, it seems, each guy is assigned an equally poof nickname, like Matador and J-Dog, who happen to be Mystery’s cohorts and helpers on the show. I’m sure there’s nothing wrong with their real names, and I’m guessing they proudly wear these monikers for the sole reason it makes them feel cool, but do men really think women are into the nickname thing? What girls do you know call their female friends by a nickname that isn’t something like Becks, for Rebecca? If she does have some nickname that isn’t logically related to her name, then it’s more than likely only guys call her by it. That’s beside the point, though. The point is what women in their right mind would talk to a guy that came up to her and said, “My name is Mystery”? I’d do the quintessential eye roll and attitude-soaked sigh before I’d even flutter an eyelash his way and talk to him, and the same goes for the guy named Matador. J-Dog would get a similar response, but would probably get a giggle somewhere in there and a “You let people call you that? You sure are holding onto your youth, ay?” tossed into the mix. Even if these guys were Versace model gorgeous, the nicknames alone are enough to put an end to their Pick Up Master ways. Not to mention, Mystery dubbed himself so because of the mysterious way he can pick up women, and Matador received his name because he goes in there and has to fight off women like a bullfighter. So, these guys come up to you, utter their laughable appellation, and when you ask where they got such a ridiculous nickname, I’d say their game is over. There’s something not at all desirable about a guy who is so awesome at picking up women it’s a mystery how he does it; therefore, he’s taken this apparent axiom upon himself and has dubbed himself Mystery. Mysteriously, I think the majority of women would walk away.
Problem Number Three: The “pick up artists” are nowhere near Versace Model status. They aren’t even attractive, and even though I think Mystery may very well be a decent looking guy underneath it all, the fact he wears more eyeliner than I do and the fact he insists on making macabre fashion choices are already two strikes against him. In the first episode, Mystery actually went out into the bar to show the poor caligynephobes how it’s done in none other than a pimp hat, complete with fashion goggles, a dew rag, and what appeared to be smoky eyes. I appreciate a guy I can get make-up tips from and dresses so audaciously it’s on the verge of grotesque, but I can only appreciate it if the guy has taken the steps to be forthright enough with himself to come out of the closet and openly embrace his love for all things Cher. If I were one of those 8 guys who apparently needs so much help {and I won’t lie, they are rather shoddy when it comes to chatting up women}, I’d be hard pressed to take advice about picking women up from a guy wearing fashion goggles and eyeliner. Matador makes decent fashion choices, but he’s not attractive and is a bit tubby which is something most women will not readily overlook. As for J-Dog, he’s short, he’s nerdy, and he has two black lines in his hair on each side, which is rather a faux pas unless your Vanilla Ice and it’s still 1983, and his only saving grace is the fact he has a hint of a British accent, which American women find dreamy.
In the end, what these guys need is an ounce of self-confidence and an aura of not giving a shit. That’s the secret to reeling in women, and that appears to be the mystery behind Mystery’s work. I’m not sure what’s groundbreaking or mysterious about it, I always thought that was common knowledge, but if hearing it from a white man in pimp attire on national television is what these caligynephobes need to finally understand that the initial world of dating is 90% how you portray your self and 10% who you are, you better believe I’m going to be sitting on the couch laughing my ass off all along the way.
The latest onslaught of visual crack is this show called the “Pick Up Artist.” If you’ve seen it and you’re female you may understand where I’m coming from, if not, I somehow still think you’ll understand where I’m coming from. The premise lies in the fact that there are 8 calignyephobics who are so frustrated and dismayed with their endeavors to attract and engage dollies they have decided to go on national television to let all of TV land know how pathetic they are and seek help from the worlds self-proclaimed best pick up artist: Mystery.
Problem Number One: This guy claims to be a master pick up artist and claims to have the expertise to engage any woman. In theory, I can see how that could be true, especially if every time he and his crew are going to pick up women they do so at a bar and they continually go for the same type of woman, but women aren’t really that simple. You men shake your head, but in reality, women aren’t. And guess what? Men aren’t that simple either. I’m not going to lie, men are much more simple then women, but in the grand scheme of relationships I’d say nothing is simple enough that it can be taught, otherwise, couples therapy wouldn’t be such a crock of shit, right? Not to mention people are individualistic enough that there can’t be a 100% surefire way to hook, line, and sinker them. Where men and women differ most is their objectives as a single person, and this is where the bar scene comes into play. Engaging a single guy at a bar, with initial attraction being a given, is as easy as some sexual innuendo and some allusion to him getting some form of action sometime during the night. If all goes to plan, that guy will be eating out of the bokkie’s palm no problem. Don’t believe me? How often do guys go out of their way to meet up with a group of chicks they’ve talked to sometime during the night, even if only one guy may possibly get laid? How many times has a guy “taken one for the team” so his friend could potentially close the deal? Now switch it: How many times has a group of women done the same? Not nearly as often, and I’m almost positive that no woman would sit idly by and talk to the ugly fat friend just so her friend could chat up the good looking bloke, let alone so she can hook up with him. Why? Because women are inherently fucked up in the head.
Engaging a single woman is damn near impossible. For starters, women always travel in herds that resemble a silent dictatorship in the sense that even if 9 girls are having fun, if girl number 10 wants to leave, the herd will evacuate and follow girl number 10’s instructions. If you want one of us you have to somehow engage all of us, and if one of us wants to go there goes the woman you’ve spent all night talking to and buying drinks for, and, though she may have enjoyed the conversation and though she may think you’re a swell guy, odds are the only thing you’ll have to show for making a connection with her is a higher than normal credit card bill. Also, if the girl does show up where you are, you can bet she’s brought her drama gaggle as well, and that crew, whether consciously or not, has one goal: to cock block you. Most often, it comes down to the fact mentioned above, because while she has you, they have no one and that’s not allowed. Even if there are 10 guys in the group and 10 girls in the group, not all 10 guys will be “attractive” and there’s no way girl number whatever will sit back and take one for the team, like anyone in the group of guys would. Catty bitches that we are, if she’s chatting up a hot bloke and we aren’t, then she won’t be for long. Even if you have the girl all alone talking to you, it’s not 100% she’ll give you her number, it’s not even 100% that she likes you. She may have her eye on a guy across the bar and, being as fucked in the head as we women can be, thinks that by talking to you she’ll get him to talk to her. Hell, she may just be waiting for the other gals she’s there with to come out of the bathroom so they can go somewhere else, and getting a free drink out of you is far better than shelling out $8 for a drink she’ll only drink half of.
Basically, the only surefire way to pick up a girl in any setting, but in particular a bar setting, is to hone in on the girls who are there for the same reason the single guy is there, which is to get physical, PHYSICAL! {pardon the 80’s song reference} You know the girl I’m talking about-the one who’s sloppy drunk, buying shots, and who generally fits into the stereotype for a sorority girl whether she is one or not. She’s the only girl that will willingly talk to a random guy that approaches her without some holier-than-thou who-the-fuck-are-you attitude prefacing the entire interaction, and in general she has nothing but getting some dick on her mind, which is a great thing for that guy, but does it really quantify as picking her up? Does doing the smack-jiggle all night and most likely never seeing her again quantify as picking a woman up? Or is it just getting into drunken debauchery? These 8 sods are characterized as “good guys,” and they all said, without falter, they would like a girlfriend. Sure, practice is practice, but is chatting up a future hook-up really the same as chatting up what could be your future? Arguable, to say the least.
Problem Number Two: The “master pick up artist’s” name is Mystery, and as part of completion of the course, it seems, each guy is assigned an equally poof nickname, like Matador and J-Dog, who happen to be Mystery’s cohorts and helpers on the show. I’m sure there’s nothing wrong with their real names, and I’m guessing they proudly wear these monikers for the sole reason it makes them feel cool, but do men really think women are into the nickname thing? What girls do you know call their female friends by a nickname that isn’t something like Becks, for Rebecca? If she does have some nickname that isn’t logically related to her name, then it’s more than likely only guys call her by it. That’s beside the point, though. The point is what women in their right mind would talk to a guy that came up to her and said, “My name is Mystery”? I’d do the quintessential eye roll and attitude-soaked sigh before I’d even flutter an eyelash his way and talk to him, and the same goes for the guy named Matador. J-Dog would get a similar response, but would probably get a giggle somewhere in there and a “You let people call you that? You sure are holding onto your youth, ay?” tossed into the mix. Even if these guys were Versace model gorgeous, the nicknames alone are enough to put an end to their Pick Up Master ways. Not to mention, Mystery dubbed himself so because of the mysterious way he can pick up women, and Matador received his name because he goes in there and has to fight off women like a bullfighter. So, these guys come up to you, utter their laughable appellation, and when you ask where they got such a ridiculous nickname, I’d say their game is over. There’s something not at all desirable about a guy who is so awesome at picking up women it’s a mystery how he does it; therefore, he’s taken this apparent axiom upon himself and has dubbed himself Mystery. Mysteriously, I think the majority of women would walk away.
Problem Number Three: The “pick up artists” are nowhere near Versace Model status. They aren’t even attractive, and even though I think Mystery may very well be a decent looking guy underneath it all, the fact he wears more eyeliner than I do and the fact he insists on making macabre fashion choices are already two strikes against him. In the first episode, Mystery actually went out into the bar to show the poor caligynephobes how it’s done in none other than a pimp hat, complete with fashion goggles, a dew rag, and what appeared to be smoky eyes. I appreciate a guy I can get make-up tips from and dresses so audaciously it’s on the verge of grotesque, but I can only appreciate it if the guy has taken the steps to be forthright enough with himself to come out of the closet and openly embrace his love for all things Cher. If I were one of those 8 guys who apparently needs so much help {and I won’t lie, they are rather shoddy when it comes to chatting up women}, I’d be hard pressed to take advice about picking women up from a guy wearing fashion goggles and eyeliner. Matador makes decent fashion choices, but he’s not attractive and is a bit tubby which is something most women will not readily overlook. As for J-Dog, he’s short, he’s nerdy, and he has two black lines in his hair on each side, which is rather a faux pas unless your Vanilla Ice and it’s still 1983, and his only saving grace is the fact he has a hint of a British accent, which American women find dreamy.
In the end, what these guys need is an ounce of self-confidence and an aura of not giving a shit. That’s the secret to reeling in women, and that appears to be the mystery behind Mystery’s work. I’m not sure what’s groundbreaking or mysterious about it, I always thought that was common knowledge, but if hearing it from a white man in pimp attire on national television is what these caligynephobes need to finally understand that the initial world of dating is 90% how you portray your self and 10% who you are, you better believe I’m going to be sitting on the couch laughing my ass off all along the way.
Labels: holy shite
| link to this post |
15 People Who Bitched:
This is from many years of being gawked at and completely shunned by women everywhere because I was completely unaware of how things worked amongst the womenfolk on account of growing up with 4 brothers.
I'll acquiesce, but I'm still befuddled by the need for group restroom trips.
Damn I had NOOOOO idea that I was being screened when I was out and about ... anyone wanting an autograph please send me an email.
The female tendency to gather in herds acts as a safty net where women can disect the males verbaly, express their opinions and fend of other gangs of girls.
It is sadly common that women will do this on double dates and other informal outings to gain power over their males. It rarely differs accross cultures...
i drool at the sight of your pretty tummy and i still have not received your answer...can we get together sometime for coffee?? northwestern7@hotmail.com
Spongybones: You've completely lost me.
Stan: Don't generalize it into all females. I stray from the herd mentality and find most women bizzare and nonsensical.
Anonymous: As pathetic as your attempt at getting coffee may be, I'm far from flaterred and am more amused at your expense than anything. I have a boyfriend; thus, only he may drool onto my pretty little tummy. You're stuck with a photo.
I wish I had read this before I changed my name to "The Cashier"
I spent the entire weekend out at bars going up to women and saying "CHA CHING!" It didn't work out so well.
Women as "bizzare and nonsensical..."
Now there's a thought...
I guess it has something to do with your freaky internal wiring. You know, the monthly Aunt Flo.- masturbation- thing. I know when Mrs Stan is having the flo by the silent aura of hostility that fills the room like one of those insecticide foggers. I hear execise may lessen the pain of cramps.
When I pick up a woman, I whack her on the head with a club and drag her out of the bar by her hair. Works every time.
aw crap! i thought they liked coffee in the portland.
Ryan: If you're going to go that route, make sure your near seasoned BINGO players.
Stan: Freaky internal wiring? I don't get cramps, my libido just goes into overdrive, which I'm thinking if you ask my boyfriend is far better than an aura of hostility anouncing the joy of my not being pregnant.
Dyck: You need to give me your lawyers number.
Anonymous: So much for you living near Portland.
He does lack a certain refinement...but at least, you've been dycked mistress.
Oh brother. You haven't gotten in bed with dyckerson, have you?
Wanker.
These pick up artists are like telemarketers - they only continue to flourish because SOMEBODY keeps falling for their shit.
Now excuse me, I have to go send money to my long lost cousin in Nigeria who wants to give me a million dollars.
While I am guilty of being involved in a "toilet herd" (it's hard to maintain female friendships when you stay at the table and do shots with the guys) I remember the good old days when I was single and would go to bars with my brother Marines. They would decide which girl they were interested in and I would help get them laid. There is nothing like a girl saying "Oh, you should meet him... he is soooo sweet" that gets another girl interested.
OK. I'm bad. Inherently evil. Somewhat pimpish.
What can I say?
Post a Comment
♦Home♦