Editor update: My editor hasn't stuck anything up his butt for a week, so hopefully he will get out of rehab next month.
Ladies love a man who can cook. No fucking secret there. No matter what they say, chicks like to eat. And fuck those "I'll-just-have-salad" bitches anyway. Salad chicks—not vegetarians—probably have stinky vaginas.
Where was I? Oh yeah, cooking. The problem with cooking a great meal is that it takes time, time that you may not have. Maybe you're watching the game or going to happy hour. Maybe you're sitting on your patio smoking cigarettes wondering what the fuck happened to your life, counting the days until you DON'T retire because you can't afford to because your crippling student loan debt doesn't leave you enough money to invest (the ROI on that degree was terrible because you're an editor and not a doctor, lawyer, or baller business dude) and you're probably going to get cancer anyway so fuck it.
You need a way to impress your lady friend without spending a fuck-ton of time in the kitchen. Good news, buddies, the GMan's got you!
Step one: Go to the store.
Step two: Make a mess in your kitchen.
This may be the most important part of impressing your lady friend. A meal surrounded by a mess means you worked hard. (A mess on its own means you're a fucking slob and should probably clean your kitchen. And also, she might equate the cleanliness of your kitchen to the cleanliness of your butthole, so that's something else to consider.)
Cut up the tomatoes and throw 90 percent of that shit in the trash. Leave some seeds, juice, and bits of skin lying around on the counter. Repeat with the onion and garlic. Throw some of your new herbs and spices on the counter and leave the jars out.
Pull out your stand mixer with the pasta attachment. (Borrow this from your mom if you have to. Kitchenaid mixers make all the panties drop. Except your mom. That's gross.) Crack some eggs into the sink leave the shells where your girl can see them. Throw some flour around. Spill a little milk. Make a paste and put some in the mixing bowl.
Step three: Cook the actual food.
Pour your store-bought sauce in a pan and heat it up on low. Follow the instructions on the box of pasta and cook that shit. Mix some of the garlic you threw in the trash with some butter and let soften. Right before you eat, put that on the fancy bread and heat it on a grill pan. The grill marks make everyone horny as fuck.
Step four: Your lady friend shows up for dinner.
Your lady friend walks in and sees your fucked up kitchen and the food on the stove. She assumes you made that sauce from scratch. SPLOOSH! "Wow! I can't believe you went to all this trouble. It smells great. WE ARE LITERALLY GOING TO POUND TOWN AFTER THIS!" (I'm not sure where Pound Town is actually located, but she will most likely say "literally" because people don't seem to know what the fuck that means anymore.)
Then you pull out the salad bag and apologize. "Sorry I didn't have time to make my legendary Caesar dressing. I had some deliverables to deliver to the CEO of Google by EOB today." This adds a bit of reality that will make all the other bullshit believable.
Finally, you plate the food and eat. Wait thirty minutes to an hour after eating before hitting the road to Pound Town. Done. Boom!
Or you could just look up a recipe on the internet and actually cook all of that shit yourself. It will probably take you the same amount of time. Except the pasta. Fuck making pasta from scratch. It's weird.
Follow me on Twitter @edgefiction101 and Instagram @edgeman3000.
Thank You, Depression and Diabetes
I'm sitting in my cube thinking that I need more money and that I don't want to eat the lentils my wife made for dinner. (They are delicious, of course, but I'm not in the mood. I want a $40 steak.) I'm wondering where the fuck my promising writing career went—seemed promising in grad school anyway. I don't want to eat the turkey sandwich I brought for lunch either. I feel like I have to poop, but I probably won't be able to because of the depression meds I'm on. My blood sugar is too high even though I didn't eat any crazy shit. And mostly, I'm thinking that I'm underpaid for the fancy marketing editor job I have. Don't they know how important grammar is? Don't they know how important smooth, concise prose is?
Don't I know that I'm just editing and writing for a Google algorithm? But yeah, I'm thinking about money, so I start looking for high-paying editor jobs in Dallas fucking Texas.
I find one that pays about five grand more a year than I make now. That sounds ok, though I'll probably feel just as broke as I do now after I've had that job for a month. I click to apply. Of course, this isn't one of those simple fuckers that just takes my LinkedIn info. It does, however, take the shit from my resume and put it in all the wrong boxes. I look around to see if my boss is behind me and start filling in my info.
I went to school. I got a master's degree in English. I went to high school. Why the fuck are they asking me about high school? I fill in my previous employment info, leaving out a shitty job that I sorta got fired from; it wasn't related to writing or editing anyway, and fuck those people in the ass with an AIDS-infested hatchet.
I put in some references, wondering why they even ask. Am I going to put someone down who will say shitty things about me? Fuck no. Basically, that question is asking if you have friends who will lie for you. I do have friends who will lie for me.
So finally, I get to the end where it asks the Equal Opportunity Employment stuff. FUCK! I'm a fucking white guy and I fucking hate these questions. Where's my privilege now? Oh, I know, it must be mixed in with my unpaid student loan bills, or possibly my shitty credit report. Maybe I should drive around awhile and feel the privilege of not getting pulled over. That always makes me feel better.
Gender: Male, female, decline to answer.
I want to write, "Male, I guess," but there's not a box for "I guess." I check the appropriate box and look down disapprovingly at me wiener.
Race: It lists the races.
I'm still not sure what the fuck non-Hispanic white is, but it's most likely not me. I think about choosing the "two or more races" or Native American. While those may be technically true, they are pretty much true for everyone. I sadly—knowing I'm surely not getting the job after my first two answers—click the box for "non-Hispanic white." Ugh.
Protected Veteran: Yes, no, choose not to self-identify.
Well, fuck. This one just makes me feel like shit. My dad and two of my uncles served in Vietnam, and I've always felt guilty about not going to war. My dad and uncles are glad I didn't have to go to war, but the fact that I didn't go to war still makes me feel shitty. I check the "no" box.
Disability: Yes or no.
FUCK again! Goddamnit, I'm fucking sick of this shit.
But wait, they've taken the time to list the disabilities that an applicant might have. I look down the list and I have three of those motherfuckers! Depression, bipolar, and diabetes. Thank you, Sweet Baby Jesus for giving me depression and bipolar disorder that led to alcoholism, which then led to pancreatitis, which led to diabetes. This job is mine!
Looking forward to your comments.
Follow me on Twitter @edgefiction101.
Editor update: It looks like it will be months before he gets out of rehab. They went on a field trip—yes, you get field trips in rehab—and he relapsed. They went to Shady Lanes Bowling Alley. (All kinds of shit can go wrong at a fucking bowling alley.) Anyway, he was trying to impress a heroin addict chick by sticking a bowling pin up his ass. She freaked out and called for security, which happened to be a dude named Bubba. Bubba gave him two options: an ass-beating or the cops. Lucky for Dale (that's not his real name), the addict wrangler talked Bubba out of those options and took the whole group back to rehab.
"We are only as sick as our secrets." – AA
As you can imagine, I got a LOT of feedback on the last post about life hacks for dudes. GMan has a shitload of hot chick readers and they wanted to add to my list. Because they are hot chicks—and dudes are still total fucking tards—I decided that seven life hacks were not enough. (I will almost always take suggestions from hot chicks, and you should too. That's a free one, homies.) I may not agree with all of their tips, but, well…they are hot chicks. What the fuck do you want me to do?
But before we get to the suggestions from my ladies, I'll give you the recipe for the Best Burger on the Web: The G-Burger. This is sure to get you laid, so save room for dessert!
First, you need to buy a grill if you don't have one. Any grill will do. Charcoal, gas, firewood, whatever. But do NOT use one of those shitty disposable ones that come in the aluminum pan. Nothing dries out a pussy quicker than a disposable grill. (This is what I've heard anyway. I couldn't dry out a pussy with a hairdryer in the desert, and I sure as fuck wouldn't buy one of those gay-ass disposable grills.)
The cooking part:
1. Blondie69 (smoking hot) says leave the seat down/put the seat down. She's right but probably for the wrong reasons. You should NOT do shit just because some hot chick told you to. (Disregard any earlier advice saying you should [unless you're a total dipshit].) You should put the seat down for yourself. Imagine you have a nice case of middle-of-the-night diarrhea. Your stupid ass didn't put the seat down. Now your nuts are in the water with your diarrhea, and you're sitting on a pissy toilet rim. Fucking gross. So don't be a heathen and put the seat down after you pee.
Side note: James Bond doesn't do shit to get the pussy. He does shit for himself and the chicks give him the pussy because of it. Think about that.
2. "Gallison" (also hot) says you should handle up on your nose hairs. She's fucking right. I get my nose hairs waxed, and it's fucking great! It shouldn't cost more than 15 bucks and it's worth every penny. It doesn't hurt (unless you're a big-ass pussy). You'll breathe better and not have to worry about having a mini Sasquatch hanging out of your nose.
3. Gallison also says to not shave all your pubes off. "Y'all might think we look hot shaved, but y'all don't. You look like an assclown." Right again, Gallison! Get the trunk. Get everything off the balls you can without cutting yourself. Use no less than a #2 on the man triangle. You should be good to go.
4. Elle-Dawg—I think that's Trey's wife—says you should let her kiss you while you have food in your mouth. I'm not sure about this one, but Elle-Dawg is hot, too, so fuck it.
5. "Gigi" says you should learn to appreciate the arts—specifically ballet. That seems a bit specific to me, then then again, ballet chicks are hot. Expert tip: they like bouquets of red roses after they finish a performance. And maybe some cocaine. (I got this info from the movies, not Gigi.) WARNING: Watch out for those psycho-murdery ballerinas like in Black Swan. You don't want to wake up dead with her eating some other hot ballet chick's pussy out next to you on the bed. Trust me.
6. From Leighbirrrrddd: "BE ON TIME for the date! I mean, so I really have to say this? Due to recent experiences, YES. If for some reason you get held up, hit traffic, hit a deer on the way to the date and will be late, let her know. We live in a time where you can't sneeze without it being texted to someone or put on your Instagram story, so for the love of God, text her. And then apologize again once you get there. And if you invite her to "drinks around 7"...she's gonna be there at 7. Because she's classy. You show up at 7:30 and you are officially not worth her make-up."
Seriously dudes, listen to her! Late people are infuriating. And like all my lady readers, she's fucking hot. Imagine you're the one sitting there at the cool place with the Edison lights and appropriated black people food (i.e., chicken and waffles, shrimp and grits). It's about 15 minutes past the time she's supposed to show up. You like this girl. You're excited. Then all of a sudden, you have to pee, but you don't want to because what if she shows up while you're in the bathroom and thinks you didn't show and she leaves. That's fucking terrible! So you sit there about to pee your pants, trying not to drink too much because you're nervous. When she finally does show up, you run to the bathroom and she thinks you had some pre-chicken and waffles diarrhea! What the fuck?! Why the fuck would you possibly do this to someone. Don't be a dick; show up on time. P.S. This goes for you too, ladies.
7. "Bekka" says clip your finger and toenails. Seriously, dudes. I didn't need "Bekka" to tell me this one, but she's right. And she's hot. So pay attention. Long fingernails make you look like a serial killer or a classical guitarist, which are often one and the same. Also, long finger nails are likely to get gross shit under them. Picture yourself as a girl. You're making out with some dude. You pull your drawers down, ready to get fingered good! Yay! But then you see him coming at your sweet poon with some dirty-ass fingernails. Who the fuck knows what's under there? Do you want an unknown brown substance in your pussy? I didn't think so.
I've always known this, of course, but if you don't believe me and Bekka, Google "how to make a chick squirt using your fingers" on the interwebs. Find a reputable site like Yoni.org. Something with Sanskrit in the URL. Don't go to Pussipedia.com. That shit is not a reputable source. A good "How to Make a Chick Squirt" article will explain how finger-banging a chick with long fingernails is basically the same as getting jerked off by Edward Scissorhands. Do you want scissors and knives and shit around your dick? I didn't think so. Trim your shit.
Ok, I think that pretty much sums it up. Hopefully you will take these tips and be less of an embarrassment to your gender. And as always, don't be fucking rapey.
Leave your comments or questions, and the G will be sure to answer you…most likely.
Follow me on Twitter @edgefiction101.
I visited my editor in rehab the other day, and he seems to be doing OK. His counselor told me it would be another three to nine months before he gets out. (I don't think it was legal for him to share that info with me, but people tell me all kinds of shit they shouldn't.) #Praying4ASpeedyRecovery #TyposandShit
When you look past the "ALL dudes are sexist, rapist, racist assholes" shit, you'll notice that the prevailing thought in 21st century America is that dudes are all borderline retarded. At first, I thought this was bullshit. #FakeNews My buddies and I aren't borderline retards most of the time. But listening to women around my office and elsewhere (and men), I've realized that maybe dudes are fucking dipshits.
To help the male population be less dipshitty, I've compiled this listicle of essential life hacks for dudes.
1. Learn to feed yourself. Buying a burger or taco or pizza doesn't count. I was surprised to learn how many guys can't even make a sandwich. (Or worse, they can make a sandwich but pretend to be absolutely helpless so their wives/husbands/girlfriends/boyfriends do it for them. Maybe it's a control thing. Guess what? You're not a pimp. You're a fuckwad. This is not the 50s and you've proven nothing but what a fuckwad you are.)
I'll give you a starter recipe, but after that, you need to start looking shit up for yourself.
Recipe for Grilled Chicken and Green Shit with Fancy Bread.
2. Wash your dick, balls, taint, and asshole. You may be thinking, But GMan, I already wash my dick, balls, taint, and asshole. No. You. Don't. Soap on your hand is not going to get the job done. Use a fucking wash rag! Chicks can smell that shit. They don't like it. (There are probably some nasty bitches who do, but you don't want them.) They will be way more likely to suck your dick/balls/taint/asshole if it's clean down there. Side note: Shave the hairs on the trunk of your cock. That one is more for your own peace of mind.
3. Read a book. (You can tell, this dude lives in Poundtown.)
4. Get off your phone when you're on a date. Actually, get off your phone when you're talking to anyone in person. It's not just rude; it's stupid. If that's what you want to do, go home and stop wasting people's time. If you are on a date and the chick is on her phone the whole time, tell her to go fuck herself and leave.
5. Stop listening to EDM, Bro Country, and anything requiring an explanation of the genre, like Laptop Death Cuddlecore Psychedelia. That shit is stupid. (EDM is ok if you're a gay dude, I suppose.) Google the top 100 albums of all time. Listen to those. Some of those albums suck ass too, but you'll be on the right track.
6. Pay attention. Watch and listen, always. At the very least, this will come in handy in fights later on. For example, your girl—or whatever—starts bitching about some random pee sprinkles on the floor by the toilet. If you were paying attention, you would have noticed and remembered that last November she left a giant shit streak on the toilet bowl. A monster, in fact. If you were paying attention, you could say, "Fuck you, nasty whore! You left a giant shit streak on the bowl on November 16th last year."
7. Stop sending pictures of your dick. You may be thinking, GMan, you're old as fuck and everybody sends dick pics these days. And that one chick that one time asked me to send her a picture of my dick. That's fucking stupid. If everyone stuck flaming dildos in their asses…?
No one really wants to see a picture of your dick. If a chick does ask for a picture of your dick, don't give it to her. Here's why: 1) She probably also thinks that's the thing to do these days, and is thus a dipshit. 2) She's a fucking weirdo. 3) SHE CAN USE YOUR DICK PICS AGAINST YOU IN COURT. Even if she sends you a pic of her titties, still don't do it.
A number of things will go through her mind if you don't:
Bonus Tip: Don't be fucking rapey. Seriously. Otherwise, you're a piece of shit.
If you use these seven essential life hacks for dudes, you'll be way more awesome and less of a dipshit than you are now. You might just get some extra pussy, and at the very least, you might feel just a bit more like a man.
More questions? Post them here, and the GMan will answer!
Follow me on Twitter @edgefiction101