Facebook + Girlfriend = Problems

Our girlfriends have eyes everywhere… even on The Book.

There seems to be a double standard pervading America still to this day.

I know that as guys we tend to enjoy double-standards, i.e. being able to bang as many chicks as we want without social consequence.

However, for once this particular double standard isn’t working out for us.

I speak of course of the technological temper tantrum just waiting to happen, better known as writing on a girl’s Facebook wall.

Now normally this wouldn’t be a problem. After all, Facebook is a social networking site. However the rules drastically change once you enter a girlfriend into the equation.

women

For some reason it’s okay for a girl to communicate via Facebook with as many guy friends as she wants, but the second you get even a slight cyber giggle from that cute chick you sit across from in Biology it’s the end of the world.

Ever hear something like this:

Girl– “So I saw that you wrote that ho today.”
Boy– “What are you talking about?”
Girl- “That slut that keeps posting on your wall. I saw that you responded back.”
Boy– “Well yeah, that’s normally what people do when somebody starts a conversation.”
Girl– “Oh well I’m glad you have SO MUCH time to talk to all these other skanks but you DIDN’T EVEN notice when I sent you that new piece of flair earlier.”
Boy– “It was a picture of Hello Kitty. What the hell was I supposed to say?”
Girl– “HOW ABOUT THANKS, YOU FUCKING JERK! I HOPE YOU AND THAT BITCH HAVE A HAPPY LIFE TOGETHER!”
(GF slams door and runs away crying.)

End scene.

socialmedia girlfriends

The sad thing is that most of the conversations guys have with girls on Facebook are pretty harmless on the flirtatious scale. Most of the time they’re some kind of inside joke from class, or fond remembrance of a drunken party you both attended. Very rarely are they the cause for WWIII that our girlfriends tend to believe they are.

So in an effort to keep the peace, I’ve come up with a few ideas to help you avoid these Facebook fiascoes.

*Get technical: If you go to your Facebook account privacy settings you’ll be able to disable certain functions like “show wall posts” as well as “show comments” on things like photos, notes, videos and relationship statuses. This should allow you to communicate with whomever without fear of your convo popping up on certain females newsfeeds.

*Inboxes are your friend: Not that you have anything to hide, but lets face it. Certain wall posts are just itching to put you in the doghouse when talking to other chicks besides your GF. If the case necessitates it, write back and forth through Facebook messages. Just make sure to delete both ingoing and outgoing messages if anyone else but you has access to your account.

*Just say no: In the opposite of Nike fashion, just don’t do it. Ask yourself if it’s really important to communicate with whoever is hollerin at you. In most cases it’s not, and when it is you can always hit that person up on the cell or better yet in person. It just makes for less drama with your baby mama, so stop and think before responding back.

Facebook has evolved from a way to keep up with old high school buddies into a tool for our girlfriends to keep track of our every move. The sad thing is all this would be impossible if not for our own obsession with The Book. In the end the smartest move would be to just delete your account and be done with it. But I’m pretty sure we all signed away our souls the minute we accepted the Facebook terms of service agreement, so follow these tips and you should be good as gold.

Until next time, remember:

“I almost had a psychic girl one time, but then she dumped me before we met.”–Anonymous

Unspoken Rules of Drinking Games

If you have ever played a drinking game, and for the sake of argument let’s assume that you aren’t a complete d-bag and have, chances are its happened to you.

Commandment 1: Men throw, Bitches blow

Whether your sport of choice is beer pong, flip cup, or just plain old you take a shot/I take a shot, at some point in your journey someone has broken one of the unspoken rules that govern all games.

You might be asking yourself, if these rules are so important, then why doesn’t someone just say something?

Because unspoken rules are a lot like Fight Club. The first rule of unspoken rules is you don’t speak about them. The second rule of unspoken rules…rule one is the only rule. Except of course for the unspoken rules themselves.

Confused?

Let’s turn to a few examples in your textbooks to better illustrate the point.

Ex. 1 –You and your buddy are the princes of pong. The two of you have managed to hold the table at the party for three consecutive hours. Countless waves of dude-duos have fallen at your feet as you mightily throw ball after ball into each awaiting solo cup.

Question: What’s wrong with this picture?
Answer:There’s almost no excuse to have a team consisting of two guys. In fact, I’m pretty sure there’s a constitutional ban against it in most states. Unless you’re playing with a female to your side, you’re gonna have to convert it to a 2 person drinking game. A beer pong game should have a maximum of 2 sets of testicles. Every time you and your bros gear up for some alternative-lifestyle penis pong of 2v2, it’s like spitting on the American flag. The only reason to have 2 guys on the same team  is if there are 2 sets of boobies staring back at you from across the table, and you’re battling to get these hotties to shed some clothing.

beer pong tits

Otherwise, find a chick and play the game the way the Bible tells us to.. the same number of men and women per team.

Ex. 2 –You and your friends are gathered around the table over a game of pyramid. The cards are laid out and the hands are dealt. After most of the cards are matched up, everybody’s eyes fall upon the top of the pyramid. As the final card is flipped, the king on the table matches the other three you have left in your hand. You have the power to drop the bomb on the hot blond chick sitting next to you, but instead you decide to give the entire butt-load of drinks to one of the guys.

Q: What’s wrong with this picture?
A: Kick yourself in nuts. This action SHOULD go against every man-molecule embedded in your DNA. You don’t give drinks to dudes. Period. The whole point of playing these games is to get the ladies feeling good. Not to get your buddy so piss-drunk that he passes out head first in the toilet. Reaffirm your gender and dish the drinks out to the females.

Ex. 3 – You and your entourage are engaged in an intense round of King’s Cup. It’s your turn and you draw a queen, meaning it’s time for questions. Assuming you’re playing normal rules, you may now turn to anyone in the group and ask a question. You scan the circle and stop on some sorority cutie that’s been eyeing you all night. You pause for a second to think and then these words come out of your mouth…”What color is the sky?”

Q: What’s wrong with this picture?
A:Are you f’ing kidding me? After six years of college that’s what you’re going with? If so quit reading this post immediately, because you’re a lost cause and wasting my time as well as your own. Everyone knows when you’re asking a girl a question it has to be sexual in some manner. Whether it’s the standard, “What color underwear are you wearing?”, or if you decide to go for the gold and ask, “How bad do you wanna f*ck me?”, you’ve got to grow a pair and string together a question so dirty you’re friends will think you’ve got turrets.

The Unspoken Rules are as numerous as there are young people willing to destroy their livers with these games on a nightly basis. So if you have an Unspoken Rule you wish more people knew about, send it in to using the contact page. Together we can educate the world because knowing is half the battle!

How Super Mario Bros Really Ended

My first post came to me while I was downing a few Heinekens last night. I was wondering to myself about how Super Mario Bros really ended.. or rather what would have been a hilarious ending because when I’m drunk I think of funny shit.

So here it is.

(Mario enters the dungeon)
Mario: Princess! Princess! I’ve come to rescue you my little spicy meatball…(Sees Toad)…Wait. Who the heck are you?
Toad: Thank you Mario, but our princess is in another castle.
Mario: What?
Toad: Uh…well…she’s not here.
Mario:
Toad: Mario, sir…?
Mario: What in the hell do you mean she’s not here?
Toad: Umm…she’s in another castle, but if you’ll simply slide down this green tube I’m sure you’ll be on your way to…
Mario: STOP! You mean to tell me that after everything I’ve just been through, I came all this way for f*cking nothing?
Toad: Hey now, listen, let’s not get carried away here…
Mario: NO YOU LISTEN YOU SHORT F*CKING FREAK! I DIDN’T JUST WADDLE-RUN MY WAY THROUGH THAT RED-BRICKED WAR ZONE JUST SO YOU CAN TELL ME THAT THAT SLUT ISN’T HERE!

Toad: Mario, please, be reasonable. I’m sure that if you go just a few more levels you’ll surely…
Mario: LEVELS! LEVELS! MY GOD IS THIS SOME KIND OF SICK GAME TO YOU?
Toad:Well…umm…actually…
Mario: MY BROTHER LUIGI’S ROTTING CORPSE IS OUT THERE BEING DEVOURED BY SOME UNHOLY MIX OF FLYING TURTLES AND WALKING MUSHROOMS WITH FANGS, AND YOU’RE IN HERE GIVING ME SOME BULLSH*T ABOUT LEVELS!
Toad: Mario, please I’m just the princess’ messenger!
Mario: NOT TO MENTION I JUST BARELY MANAGED TO ESCAPE BEING BAR-B-QUED BY THAT 10-FOOT F*CKING DRAGON ON THE BRIDGE BY THE LAVA PIT OVER THERE.
Toad: And I’m sure you’ll be greatly rewarded by the princess once you finally rescue…
Mario: YOU KNOW IT’S FUNNY, BUT SOMEHOW I THINK HER ROYAL BITCHNESS FORGOT TO MENTION THE LITTLE DETAIL ABOUT HAVING TO BATTLE F*CKING GODZILLA FOR HER. IF I WOULD’VE KNOWN BEFOREHAND I WOULD’VE JUST TOLD THAT SKANK TO SUCK MY BIG ITALIAN SAUSAGE!
Toad: Mario, sir, please. If you don’t continue on our princess will be lost forever and…
Mario:NO! F*CK THAT. I’m going back home. No f*cking piece of ass is worth this. I’d rather spend the rest of my life unclogging sh*t from people’s toilets than deal with this motherf*cking mess any more. So you can just tell that slut that I’m going to go bury my brother, gather up some of those psychedelic mushrooms I saw earlier, and figure out a way to make it stop shooting out fireballs every time I take a piss. DAMMIT, I knew I should have never responded to that message on that bathroom stall.
(Walks out in disgust.)
Toad: Well, I guess we could always call Joe the Plumber.