No, I didn’t buy one. But I borrowed one today hoping it would save me money on jizz rags. I suppose the original owner won’t want it back after reading this, or care to have it back knowing how shitty it is.

Anyway…

To test the product before using it in the field (my girlfriend’s back), I dumped some water on the counter and attempted to wipe it up. Not only did the glorified towel feel rock hard, it smeared the water around about as much as it soaked. I’ve thrown tampons that hold more water at passing cars. Needless to say, I was disappointed as I believe everything I see on television.

What a sleaze that ShamWow guy is. Evidently one dissatisfied customer showed her displeasure by pretending to be a prostitute so she could bite his tongue off. I say “good for her.” And yes, I do believe she was pretending. That snake oil salesman got what he deserved.

This is a pretty light subject, but I’m actually kind of interested in it.

I was at the bar last Tuesday night for Cinco de Mayo. The bars themselves were nothing special, but that didn’t take away from my undeniable ability to intoxicate myself beyond belief. Somewhere between the many fuzzy memories I have from that night, I somehow manage to have a distinct recollection of a conversation I had with a girl whom, in light of the previous post, we’ll refer to as Kansas City, or KC. It went something like this (I cleaned it up to get just the main points of the conversation across. I’m not trying to explain to everyone how slurred and obnoxious my speech becomes when I’m near black-out.):

BS: I didn’t know there was a photo shoot here tonight.

KC: We always take tons of pictures at the bar. We have to remember it somehow!

Her friend sees us talking and immediately decides we all have to take a picture together.

BS: You don’t want me in your pictures. You’ll have no idea who I am tomorrow.

KC: That’s why they invented names. What’s yours?

BS: Bill Sullivan, and you?

KC: Kansas City. I’ll add you on Facebook tomorrow so I can tag you in the pictures.

BS: Are you even allowed to do that? Isn’t there some kind of three day rule so you don’t seem too desperate?

KC: What?

BS: You meet a random guy at the bar and exchange names. If he requests your friendship right away the next morning, do you immediately think something of it?

KC: I mean, I guess I hadn’t thought about it, but I guess you’re right. I’d definitely think, “Whoa, buddy”.

BS: What happens if he waits a long time, like a week or more?

KC: I’d probably think he either just ran across my name or my picture or something and remembered me, or, I guess yeah that he was horny one night looking for a piece of ass.

BS: Exactly, so when would it be okay for him to friend you without giving out any bad signals?

KC: You’re good. I guess 3 days and I wouldn’t really think anything of it.

About then I got pulled back to the bar for more tequila shots with my buddy and a girl I found out later was Kansas City’s twin sister.

This is my question: Really? At first, I was half-kidding, assuming my comment was just a dumbass theory almost identical to the “Three Day Rule” as defined on Urban Dictionary: “A rule used by douchebag guys who think that waiting three days after a date to call means that the girl will want them more, when really it just pisses them off.” I never thought she’d so readily agree with me. Do most girls really think like this, or was she just another dumb broad at the bar? Anyone have any thoughts? Please shed some light on this with a comment.

A friend of mine exposed me to a new way of thinking, and it is time to share this methodology with the world (all 200 of you):

When describing the fairer sex, we men often summarize appeal with a simple digit: “She’s an 8.” Some of us that are more daring venture to use decimal places: “No, she’s an 8.2.” We proceed to argue about our ratings and why we chose our respective numbers.

There needs to be a system that factors in body, “nailability”, and face. This system is affectionately called the “Area Code System.”

The first digit is regarding the body and is on a scale of 1-9, 9 being the best. The second digit, regarding “nailability”, is treated as “true or false” and is consequently either a 0 or 1, 1 being “nailable.” The final digit is in respect to face, and is also chosen on a 1-9 scale, 9 being the best.

The beauty of the Area Code System is that it addresses both objective (face, body) and subjective (nailability) factors.

Let’s do a couple examples:

Oprah Winfrey

This woman’s weight has fluctuated more than the public opinion of George W. Bush, but I’ll be damned if her face isn’t almost average. Oh ya, she’s also rich as hell, so I’d let her bone-spoon feed me caviar for the rest of our lives.

Oprah is a 214. Or for the geographically talented, a Dallas.

Nicole Kidman

From a purely objective standpoint, she has a nice body (albeit pale) and face. She could fool you into a bang session, unless of course you’ve seen one of her deplorable movies or know her romantic history. Any woman who would accept Tom Cruise’s seed has a screw loose. And I’m not knocking Tom Cruise as an actor; he’s just a classic weirdo.

708. Or an Oak Brook.

And for the ladies, I’ll even analyze a guy:

David Duchovny.

Ah, the elusive 919, or a Raleigh. And if you don’t believe me, watch Californication. But make sure to put a towel down first, ladies.

Well, that’s all I have time for today. Sound off about the Area Code System. If you know one that’s better, keep it to yourself.

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