What crazy creatures them womens be…
October 05, 2004

When we realized that it’s time to do another column, frankly we struggled with a subject. So much stuff happens to us that "crazy" has been the norm. Case in point: Last week, Jeff spent an afternoon sharing a stage with Henry Winkler. Yeah, you read that correctly. Jeff shared the stage with the fucking Fonz!


To make things more interesting, Jeff, in his infinite wisdom, decided it would be great to dress up like the Fonz for the event. Um, yeah. See the thing is… the Fonz wasn’t so keen on that. He dismissed Jeff, in Fonz garb, with a wave of the hand and went about his business, helping Jeff hand out free shit, ogling chicks and plugging every book, every show, every movie, he has ever been a part of… except Happy Days. Apparently good ol’ Mr. Winkler has been trying to distance himself from the Fonz for a number of years but jackasses keep dressing up like him and saying "ehhhh." It would have been nice if someone would have told Jeff that. Oh well, live and learn. And let us just go on record as saying the Fonz is a big, we mean BIG, fan of the ladies. Every woman that walked within 100 feet of the stage got kisses blown in her direction and comments made about her beauty. Honestly, it kinda creeped Jeff out a little. Not because the Fonz was flirting with every woman that moved, but that he didn’t look like the Fonz anymore. He looked like that creepy old guy that stands at the back of the bar waiting until 2 a.m. so he can swoop in and take some wasted co-ed back to his place to either bang or skin.


The Fonz did it with Pinky and we are doing it here with you… we’re talking some serious digressing folks!


Despite all the crazy shit that goes down, one thing though has yet to be a major part of our life (at least recently) is women. It’s not that we don’t try – in fact, it could be said that we try a little too hard. We know exactly how to pick up women, or chicks as they prefer to be called. We know what to say and what to do but for some reason it never works out.


Let’s say we are at a local drinking establishment and we see a chick all dolled up and sitting by herself along the bar. We swoop in, stand right behind her and stare at the back of her head until she feels our presence and turns around. Then we introduce ourselves in the lowest voice we can possibly muster. You see, the lower the voice the better it carries in a crowd. And if for some reason she doesn’t respond, we reintroduce our selves again in the highest pitch possible. Sometimes chicks have a hard time hearing really low sounds or they may be partially deaf – which is cool with us. We are equal opportunity daters. But after the introduction comes the shot at the end zone – so to speak. We point to our crotch and then ask the chick if she could help us "while we go to the bathroom because it really is a two person job."


And that never works. Can you believe that shit?


We know what you’re saying. "Guy’s, your plan is fool proof, how are you not getting tang every night?" Well gentle readers, love, like life, is like a cold night. See, um, when it’s cold, you, go… and… um, your nipples get hard and uh… fuck it. We don’t know where we were going with that. We know what to do. We know what women want to hear. We can talk to them till the proverbial cows come home, but will any of them actually go home with cows like us? No.


We’ve even switched strategies and still no play. We try to be witty, they just look at us with blank looks because we were a little too obscure in our witticism. We try the self deprecating humor approach, and they laugh, and in the end usually agree. Hell we even try to be dicks, no pun intended, and the chicks have none of it. What the Fuck? Chicks are supposedly drawn to assholes, again, no pun intended.


The last time we were at Chili’s we tried to be a dick to a cute waitress chick. She came, took our order and Aaron told her that she would look a little better if she lost 15 pounds. Jeff agreed and then slapped her ass and told her to "get on those refills." That only got us kicked out of the restaurant. Before we left we of course scratched our phone number in the table so we guess there might still be a chance.


So what are we to do? Actually, we are leaning towards getting a windowless van and pulling the old "hey, can you help me lift this chair into the back of my van" bit. It seems to work for all those guys in those moving pictures. But that’s about the last thing that we can think of to try. Maybe it’s just time we went to that website were you can order Russian chicks. Or if all else fails we can just tell everyone we have a girlfriend – that lives in Sweden.


When we realized that it’s time to do another column, frankly we struggled with a subject. So much stuff happens to us that "crazy" has been the norm. Case in point: Last week, Jeff spent an afternoon sharing a stage with Henry Winkler. Yeah, you read that correctly. Jeff shared the stage with the fucking Fonz!


To make things more interesting, Jeff, in his infinite wisdom, decided it would be great to dress up like the Fonz for the event. Um, yeah. See the thing is… the Fonz wasn’t so keen on that. He dismissed Jeff, in Fonz garb, with a wave of the hand and went about his business, helping Jeff hand out free shit, ogling chicks and plugging every book, every show, every movie, he has ever been a part of… except Happy Days. Apparently good ol’ Mr. Winkler has been trying to distance himself from the Fonz for a number of years but jackasses keep dressing up like him and saying "ehhhh." It would have been nice if someone would have told Jeff that. Oh well, live and learn. And let us just go on record as saying the Fonz is a big, we mean BIG, fan of the ladies. Every woman that walked within 100 feet of the stage got kisses blown in her direction and comments made about her beauty. Honestly, it kinda creeped Jeff out a little. Not because the Fonz was flirting with every woman that moved, but that he didn’t look like the Fonz anymore. He looked like that creepy old guy that stands at the back of the bar waiting until 2 a.m. so he can swoop in and take some wasted co-ed back to his place to either bang or skin.


The Fonz did it with Pinky and we are doing it here with you… we’re talking some serious digressing folks!


Despite all the crazy shit that goes down, one thing though has yet to be a major part of our life (at least recently) is women. It’s not that we don’t try – in fact, it could be said that we try a little too hard. We know exactly how to pick up women, or chicks as they prefer to be called. We know what to say and what to do but for some reason it never works out.


Let’s say we are at a local drinking establishment and we see a chick all dolled up and sitting by herself along the bar. We swoop in, stand right behind her and stare at the back of her head until she feels our presence and turns around. Then we introduce ourselves in the lowest voice we can possibly muster. You see, the lower the voice the better it carries in a crowd. And if for some reason she doesn’t respond, we reintroduce our selves again in the highest pitch possible. Sometimes chicks have a hard time hearing really low sounds or they may be partially def – which is cool with us. We are equal opportunity daters. But after the introduction comes the shot at the end zone – so to speak. We point to our crotch and then ask the chick if she could help us "while we go to the bathroom because it really is a two person job."


And that never works. Can you believe that shit?


We know what you’re saying. "Guy’s, your plan is fool proof, how are you not getting tang every night?" Well gentle readers, love, like life, is like a cold night. See, um, when it’s cold, you, go… and… um, your nipples get hard and uh… fuck it. We don’t know where we were going with that. We know what to do. We know what women want to hear. We can talk to them till the proverbial cows come home, but will any of them actually go home with cows like us? No.


We’ve even switched strategies and still no play. We try to be witty, they just look at us with blank looks because we were a little too obscure in our witticism. We try the self deprecating humor approach, and they laugh, and in the end usually agree. Hell we even try to be dicks, no pun intended, and the chicks have none of it. What the Fuck? Chicks are supposedly drawn to assholes, again, no pun intended.


The last time we were at Chili’s we tried to be a dick to a cute waitress chick. She came, took our order and Aaron told her that she would look a little better if she lost 15 pounds. Jeff agreed and then slapped her ass and told her to "get on those refills." That only got us kicked out of the restaurant. Before we left we of course scratched our phone number in the table so we guess there might still be a chance.


So what are we to do? Actually, we are leaning towards getting a windowless van and pulling the old "hey, can you help me lift this chair into the back of my van" bit. It seems to work for all those guys in those moving pictures. But that’s about the last thing that we can think of to try. Maybe it’s just time we went to that website were you can order Russian chicks. Or if all else fails we can just tell everyone we have a girlfriend – that lives in Sweden.