Dating

After reading the last chapter, you probably :

A.) Were frozen in a catatonic state of suspense, not bathing/eating/making sure you turn the lights on and off exactly seventeen times before you go to bed, because your life would not be complete until you read part two.

B.) Gave up on women to pleasure yourself once again. Have you no shame?

Either way, wash your hands and get ready for... Part Deux(because we all know French = classy/dirty)!

Now you are all set, you managed to fool some female that you really are a nice caring guy without any ulterior motives, like trying on her panties when she leaves her house, not that I would do something like that, that's really weird and strange and I wonder how someone could do such a thing but I digress because I think this sentence has gone on long enough. Now for the uneducated, the only way to tell the immediate difference between men and women is breasts... Breasts! Here's a fact, hotshot... Some women don't have breasts, yet some men do! Put that in your pipe and smoke it! You may think you are some hot shit for thinking you're dating a busty girl named Tina, but in reality you may find yourself in a long and involved relationship with Roger Ebert! Everyone will be talking about you, and although this is a good thing they will be saying stuff like, "That guy has sex with Roger Ebert," which in actuality is bad.

To avoid future embarrassment, and making out with Roger Ebert, I have prepared this handy chart you may want to print out and keep with you on the back of an index card or a hundred dollar bill that you can mail to me because at this point you don't realize this entire paragraph contains subliminal messages.

If all else fails, just say, "Five bucks says you don't have a penis!" If this works then you know you have a keeper.

Well, Slappy, now you've found a girl that you've confirmed is a female and will actually listen to your boring conversations that drone on for hours, especially the one about when you and your friend Pete found that dead ferret in the middle of the woods, and you decided to bring it to school in an attempt to make show-and-tell more interesting, but Pete came down with diphtheria from handling said animal and you learned a valuable lesson about responsibility and child abuse(thanks to the episode of Mr. Belvedere you watched before you left for school). If you haven't alienated her because of your severe lack of communication skills due to living in your parents' basement for the last twenty years all the while trying to build a 1/10th scale model of the ship from Battlestar Galactica out of dryer lint, she will be putty in your hands. But not the kind of putty you can pull and squeeze and push against the comics page in your local newspaper so your dyslexic cousin Jerry can read "Peanuts." That part is for later. Now it is time for the actual DATE!

Onward, to Part Two...