https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yZTAc1W59DQ
Way out East there was this fella — fella I wanna tell ya about. Fella by the name of Alexandru. At least that was the handle his loving parents gave him, but he never had much use for it himself. Alexandru, he called himself Alexandru. Now, Alexandru — he didn’t make a whole lot of sense. And a lot about where he lived, likewise.
Okay class, settle down. Open your books up to page eight hundred and three, and we will begin today’s lesson: How To Talk To Girls, Part One – By Dr. Professor Charlie Maine, P.H.D, M.D, A.D.D.
If you’re on your first date never look a woman in the eye. The eyes are windows to the soul, and a woman will bust out your metaphysical windows with her Jimmy Choo shoe and suck out your soul through your eye sockets if you let her. Soul stealing is more of a second or third date activity, so try to put it off as long as possible. It’s like second base for chicks.
When you first meet a woman try to impress her, but don’t overdo it. If you seem too cool she’ll have very high expectations of you, and that’s the absolute last thing you want. If anything, try to set her expectations as low as possible without making yourself seem so lame-o that she tries to find someone better. Yeah, like there’s someone better, honey.
The best way to lower her expectations is to talk about sports in a manner that suggests you have an actual affinity for mindlessly chasing a ball of some sort, not simply as a way to excuse yourself from all social obligations and make your way to a pub with a TV in the corner. As women have no interest in sports — except ice dancing, and bloodsports like making catty remarks about red-carpet dresses — they will set their brain to autopilot mode and allow you to jabber on about whatever you like for the rest of the evening.
Warning: do not attempt to look a woman in the eye while talking about sports. This will result in instant paralysis, headaches, back aches, and sometimes death. And you’ll miss third down.
Man, his mom’s gonna be pissed. I’m sure there used to be a nice patch of something right where he’s riding. It took her years to grow that crabgrass; nevertheless, our Portuguese-spewing friends have the right idea. Horticulture can’t hold a candle to 150cc of rope swinging action.
Dressed in his finest gym shorts and flip flops the newest honorary borderline sociopath soldiers on in the fight against gravity. The only way he could get any cooler is if his pornstache was also riding a dirt bike.
[Many thanks to the indispensable Charles Schneider for sending this one along]
Now, this doesn’t make a lick of sense, so it’s perfectly at home here on the Borderline Sociopathic Blog for Boys.
If every alpha male listened to the naysayers instead of their interior voice that tells them, “Hey, you jumped almost that far once before,” then we wouldn’t get anything done in this world. No one would have discovered that a snowmobile will run on Bacardi 151 rum, at least for a while; or that you can get on a Rose Parade float and wave like the Pope for half an hour, easy, before anyone catches on; or that you can brush your teeth with whiskey if you run out of cognac; or that go-karts work just fine in malls; or that startling prone sunbathing girls with their spaghetti straps undone yields primo results if you can run faster than their sunbathing boyfriends…
(Thanks to our friend Leon for sending that one along)