If you could care less what I’ve been up to – skip the first paragraph and go to BLOG BEGINS HERE:

Oh my…it has been WAY too long!!  This will be an interesting study in just how many of you still like checking in on me and my madness.  If any of you are interested, I’ve been writing (the kind that pays the bills), doing my weekly show as well as others here and there – I’ll be at the Kitty Kat Bar this Friday night if you’re local and want to come see me – It’s in Baltimore and the show is free and starts at 10PM.  Just go to http://www.screwballoutlaws.com/ for all the details.  I also wrapped up a fantastic season with my little leaguers – we went 11-1 during the regular season, undefeated in the playoffs and lost a heartbreaker in the championship game – but my kids are still champions and we all got big trophies.

BLOG BEGINS HERE:

My son turns 11 on Friday.  E-L-E-V-E-N.  Not that 11 is some great milestone – but the fact that he’s turning 11 – and still damn near perfect – (i.e. NOT in juvenile hall, a mental ward or in the care of social services) is astonishing to me.  I guess I’m doing something right.  So yeah, I’ll take a pat on the back and little credit.  But none of that is my point.

It’s time for the “talk”.  You know, the “birds and the bees” stuff.  By the way, I’ve decided that neither birds nor bees will be mentioned anywhere in my “talk” – where the fuck did that come from anyway?? I could understand if it was; “Son, we need to talk about the rabbits.”  “Why the rabbits dad?” “Because they fuck a lot son.  And they make kick ass vibrators.”  That doesn’t just open the door; it kicks it in like a S.W.A.T. raid.

I feel the need to say that I have no fear whatsoever about the talk.  Except for maybe deciding just how much to address in the talk…after all, I am training a young Jedi Master.  (That was for you ..Preston..)  But seriously, I have much to impart upon his young mind when it comes to all things female – but where to draw the line and decide what we will revisit later when it is more age appropriate.

For example – this whole topic came about when he was in his last week of 5^th grade this year and he came home and announce they were having a few days of “sex ed.”  Now I wasn’t shocked, but I was thinking, “ALREADY?”  Yes, absolutely already.  If you have kids and you’re doing your job monitoring their emails, texting, video games and what they are watching – they are MORE THAN READY at 11. 

**Sub example** I was checking Ethan’s cell phone the other day and he had a voicemail from one of his 11 YEAR OLD buddies:  “Hey Ethan, It’s ____ call me back you fuckin douchebag.”

I laughed.  I’m sorry.  It’s fuckin funny, I don’t care where you’re from.  I have no fucking idea where my kid and his fucking friends get this kind of fucking language from…it’s baffling to me.

Ok, back to 5^th Grade “sex ed.”  I’m driving Ethan and one of his friends out one night to meet their “girl friends” – yes, if I make that one word and he happens to read this, I get in trouble.  They start talking about the sex ed. Class they had that day:

Ethan:  “Oh my god the girls are so lucky, they got the nurse – we got Mrs. Kesler. (his homeroom teacher)  It was like Grandma talking to us about sex.  Oh it was SO GROSS!!”

Friend:  “Yeah she held up a garden hose and said “this is what your penis looks like now, but when you run water through it, it gets stiff”…it was so stupid.”

T. Brad:   “Really?  A garden hose?  Did they show you how to use condoms by putting one on a banana?”

Friend:  “Oh no, she said that is 7^th grade and we practice with bananas and cucumbers.  She also drew a smiley face on the balls of the penis diagram.”

Here’s the first part where I felt the immediate need to intervene in the county sexual education curriculum:

T. Brad:  “Ok boys – I’m going to tell you something right now – and this is important –  when you hit puberty head-on in the next few years – if you are at all expecting your penis to resemble a garden hose, a banana or a cucumber – you’re setting yourself up for disappointment. Typically, you should be thinking Ball Park™ frank – pre cooked.”

Later on I told Ethan that he most likely had nothing to worry about – bananas are within reach.

So you see what I am dealing with?  I can only imagine if I just left it at garden hose and smiley balls that my son’s first stop on his way to his first date would be the Home Depot for some gardening supplies and a Sharpie™.  She unzips his pants and he pulls out the marker – “What are you doing?” she asks.  “Isn’t this the part where you write on my balls?” 

Life and society are COMPLETELY different these days as opposed to when I was a kid.  My dad actually never had a “talk” with me – and no thanks to him, I figured things out pretty well.  It just goes to show you – never underestimate the value of a Penthouse Forum and Cinemax Sex Ed. Program.  Mostly Penthouse because I always referred to Cinemax as the “furniture moving channel” – the sex scenes were always shot from the waist up and every single scene looked like the guy was pushing a desk across the room.  At one point, I wanted to become a professional mover.  I like pushing desks across the room - but not big 80's hairy desks...

This is getting long, but I reserve the right to revisit this topic later…after we’ve had our first talk.

What did your parents talk to you about? (If they even did…)  Any idea on what you plan on saying to your current or future kids?  Have ya missed me?

Leave a comment or just say Hi! 

Yeah, that's right.  I'm in a ranting mood.  ALL KINDS of shit is pissing me off lately and I've decided to vent right here for all of you!  Go ahead and close if you don't feel like reading me bitching...

Before I start, a blogger long ago used to do "Fuck You Fridays"  It may have been Sam Freedom.  Anyway, I can't remember, but whoever it was, I'm stealing your idea just for today - and sorry, but fuck you if you don't like it - read it again, there's a space, it's not buttfuck you, so don't be calling me and asking for favors.

In no particular order...

Fuck you horrible stupid evil bad crimial type people in the world.   You want to know why?  Because you've made the world a scared and shitty place.  Specifically?  I am a genuinely nice fucking guy.  I say please and thank you, hold doors open, let assholes in traffic for the sake of keeping it moving and tell everyone I interact with on a daily basis - "Hey, you have a great day"  I know you get paid $7 an hour to work the register at the Quickie Mart and you probably hate your existence - but I REALLY DO want you to have the best day possible.  So I say all that "I'm a nice guy" shit to set up this:  I was at the grocery store the other day and I see this woman trying to get her load of groceries and her three young kids to the car and I very politely offer to help her carry her bags while she wrangles the kids, since I only have two.  She looks at me like I have three heads, ignores me completely and huddles the kids together like I was about to abduct all of them.  WHAT THE FUCK???  It's not like I said, "Maam, can I help you with your bags and will you rub this lotion on its skin or it gets the hose again?"

Same thing last Christmas at Target - there was this girl trying to get this TV into her car and I offered to help and I'm pretty sure she reached for her mace.  I really am a just being nice and trying to be helpful - I am NOT trying to pick you up or rape you.  Ok, I may have been trying to pick up the Target girl she was rather hot...HA!  I KNEW THAT'S WHAT SOME OF YOU WERE THINKING...well, it's just not true.  But it's a catch-22.  I want to tell all of you to let somebody help you, let them do a good deed and that the world is not full of evil people - but I honestly feel like I can't - because it is - and that's fucked up.  So FUCK YOU evil people.

Moving on...

FUCK YOU (some) LITTLE LEAGUE PARENTS - yeah that's right.  I said it.  As some of you know, I am in my fourth year of coaching my son's little league team.  My blog is public and some of them may be reading this - you know what?  I don't give a shit.  This little rant DOES NOT apply to most of the parents on my teams over the years and the ones it does apply to, I'm pretty sure can't read.  I take coaching my son's team pretty seriously.  We play 3 games a week and I spend about an hour before every game setting the lineup and field positions and an hour after every game compiling stats so the kids know how they are doing.  That is roughly 15 hours per week THAT I VOLUNTEER to be in charge of 22 little egos, attitudes and varying skill sets - we have 11 kids on the team, I was talking about the parents. 

My "fuck you" is to the parents that just don't care.  They sign their kid up to "play a sport" - I guess because they feel like it's the right thing to do.  Then they expect me to magically turn their kid into Babe Ruth - I would have come up with current player to reference there, but they are all on steroids, so fuck them too.  I am going to say something that might piss some people off, but hear me out...

"Some kids are not athletic and not born to play competitive sports."

Can any kid do whatever the fuck they want?  Abso-fucking-lutely.  But don't expect ME to make it happen.  There is only so much I can do with the VERY LIMITED time I get to practice with these kids.  The rest is.....guess what?....ON YOU DUMBASS.  If your kid stands there like a statue and NEVER swings at the ball after I've worked with him over and over on his swing and cries because he strikes out every single time - what good is that for everyone involved?  And you want to blame me??  FUUUUUUUUUCK YOU!  There are kids on the team that you can spot VERY EASILY that spend time at home in the yard with mom, dad, brother or sister PRACTICING.  You can EASILY spot the kids that get taken to the local batting cages to work on their hitting.  If you are not willing to actively involve yourself in your child's life and spend time with him or her to work on any activity you've signed them up for - you're a fucking idiot.  How do you think that failure time and time again is working on their self-esteem?  That $80 registration fee you paid was for the uniform and umpire money - any douchebag can be a coach.  I've been around baseball for almost 35 years - your kid is LUCKY to be on my team and actually learn something.  But again, I can only do so much.  By the way, we are currently 7-1....and we kick ass.

Is anyone still reading this blabbering nonsense???

I don't care, it feels good.

Lastly, FUCK YOU to being single.  I didn't think I'd ever hear myself say those words again, but it's finally worn on me.  As much as I absolutely LOVE not having to answer to anybody, being able to do whatever the fuck I want whenever with whomever - it's growing tiresome.  Apart from my wonderful son, I'm starting to feel empty inside. I find myself "inspired" way less often these days.  I feel like I'm just going through the motions and time is just passing me by - I think my heart is lonely.  I've been alone too long - I think.  If I sound unsure, it's because I am sort of...what I'm trying to say is that I haven't had that pep in my step, that giddy butterflies in my stomach feeling, that "holy shit I CAN'T WAIT" to see her again feeling, that "no YOU hang up" feeling...did I get my point across?  I think some of you call it "love". 

Yeah, I miss being in love.

And I can't believe I just typed that. 

But it's true. 

It would explain quite a bit lately. 

SOMEBODY SLAP THE SHIT OUT OF ME PLEASE...

Alrighty then...if you skimmed the whole boring blog or read it (thank you)...PLEASE use the comment section below to say FUCK YOU! to someone or something that is pissing you off today.  Or just call me a whiney pussy...

FOREWORD

Dear Ethan,

Naaah…too cliché.

Hey Kiddo,

Naaah…too casual.

E-Dawg,

Naaah…WAY too “dad trying to be all street and whatnot yo”.

Ethan…ETHAN!!...HEY!!  HEY YOU!!!  Put the XBOX controller down, get those buds out of your ears and finish that text message later!

Perfect.

Pay attention now.  This is it.  This is YOUR book!  You’ve been waiting patiently and it’s finally here. 

Before I begin, sort of while we’re on the subject, do you have any idea just how great you kids have it these days?  It really hit me the other day when we were out running around and we stopped in front of “Record and Tape Traders” – a local music chain that buys and sells used music – and yes, they still have vinyl.  The conversation went something like this:

Dad:  “Look, a Record and Tape Traders!”

Ethan:  “What are records and tapes?”

Dad: “It’s how we used to listen to music back in the dark ages…holy CRAP I’m old.”

Ethan:  “Dad, can we go?  I don’t have any bars on my phone here.”

Dad:  “No we can’t go!  No bars on your precious cell phone?  Do you realize that when I was a kid we had to actually be HOME to make a phone call?  Let’s not forget that we had to endure carpal finger tunnel syndrome just to PLACE a phone call.  Yeah, I said it – PLACE - a phone call, because we weren’t even DIALING yet.  Those futuristic space phones with the buttons you pushed to make the call were still a few years away.  We had to spin this ridiculous wheel and wait for it to go all the way around before we could do the next number and if you had a lot of 7’s, 8’s or 9’s in your number, I was never calling you.  Do you have any idea that your cell phone signal GOES TO SPACE and back?  “I don’t have any bars…”, Shut up.”

Ethan: “Really dad?  Did you walk really far to school too?  In the snow?  Hey, do they sell iPods™ at your old music store?  I think mine’s almost full.  This one you got me only holds like 4,000 songs.”

Dad:  “What?  Only 4,000 songs?  Wow, I’m sorry; we’ll have to rectify that situation immediately!”

Ethan:  “Really?”

Dad: “NO! Do you have any idea how a record works?  We had this giant box with yet another spinning wheel and we put this giant plastic circle on it and then put this other thing with a needle on it – on the plastic circle and it played the song.  And if you wanted to hear it again?  You had to GET UP and walk over and move the needle back to the beginning of the song by finding the thick black line on the big plastic circle, and if you did this enough times, your record would scratch and it would then skip endlessly.  You know what we got next Mr. “My iPod is full”?  We got tapes – hence the title of the freakin’ store.  Let me just tell you, we thought tapes were IT – jet packs HAD to be next.  iPods?  We had the Sony Walkman™.  Yes, we could now go out and buy tapes and listen to them wherever we wanted!” 

Ethan:  “Cool.  So you would download all your favorite songs for .99 cents each onto a tape?”

Dad: “No son.  Not really.  We would drive to the music store and buy the band’s whole tape for $10 when we really only wanted the one good song and we would listen to it, rewind it, listen to it, rewind it…it sucked when the one song you wanted to hear was not the first song on the tape because then we would be fast forwarding, oops, too much, rewinding, fast forward…I’ll never forget the day they came out with Automatic Music Search (AMS) and Auto-Reverse.  Those jet packs were surely around the corner.  Then we got CD’s and all was right with the world of portable music.”

Ethan:  “Dad?” 

Dad: “Yes?”

Ethan: “What’s a CD?”

Dad: “Never mind.”

Ethan: “Ok.  Do you think they sell XBOX hard drives at your old music store?  I think mine is almost out of space.”

Dad: “You’re doing this on purpose now aren’t you?”

Ethan: “Doing what?”

Dad: “Your XBOX hard drive is almost out of space?  You mean to tell me you can’t download any more games, music or movies onto your video game console?  Awww, that’s too bad.  You have Madden ‘09™, Call of Duty 4™, Tiger Woods Golf™ and you can listen to music or watch any movie whenever you want – wanna know what I did with my video game console?

We had to get a frog across the street…”

Ethan: “What?”

Dad: “Never mind.”

So there you go.  Welcome to your book.  I plan on doing a lot of that.  Within these pages, you will also find a treasure trove of great advice on girls, music, food, fads and just about everything else.  There are some of my favorite childhood stories, lots of “do’s” and a lot more “don’ts”.  I’m hoping to make you laugh, make you think and probably save you a lot trouble and heartache by learning from me and my mistakes as well as my triumphs.

I love you more than anything in this world…

Love,

Daddy

For those of you that are not my son, I hope you enjoy this as well.  My goal in writing this book for Ethan is to share my collected wit, wisdom, anecdotes and life lessons that I’ve accumulated over my steadily growing number of years on this planet with my son – but in a way that anyone can read, laugh with, and appreciate.   I want him to have this collection of my life’s thoughts and memories in my own words that he can cherish and one day share with his own kids – my grandkids (shudder).  I have only one regret in writing this book and that’s that I didn’t keep a journal of some kind throughout my life.  I know I’m going to leave some things out, simply because I forgot them.  I highly encourage anyone reading this book to do this for your kids and to encourage your children to document their lives.  It’s never too early or too late to start.  At risk of sounding morbid, I asked myself one day – What if something happened to me?  All my son would have would be his own memories of me and a bunch of stories from other people – and to me, that doesn’t seem fair to him.  There are so many options at your fingertips these days.  I can’t tell you how much fun it’s been digging through the memories…

Enjoy.

-TBH

Dear Dr. T. Brad,

My girlfriend and I broke up recently, but she keeps trying to get me to see her or come over.  She says she wants to be with me one last time.  It's confusing, because I really thought it was over. Can you help?

-Single Again?

Dear Single?,

Let me get this straight.  You've broken up, and she still wants to have sex?  What could be better right?  I say BE CAREFUL.  Sex is great any time, but with your ex, there's the slow-withdrawal thing.  And it's better if she weren't trying to sucker you back into a relationship and/or didn't start crying and tell you to get out halfway through the act.  But who's being picky here?

Here are some scenarios you should watch out for and how to handle them:

Ex-Sex Scenario #1.

You ran into her at a bar, got hammered and before you knew it…

THE DEAL:  Don't worry too much.  You were drunk.  She was drunk. Things happen.  Chances are she was thinking what you were thinking – booty call – and no more.  Oh, except she was also thinking, "What the hell was I thinking?!?!?  Oh God, I wonder what he's thinking."  That's a LOT of thinking.  Give her two Advil, and don't call her in the morning.

HOW TO PLAY IT: Like I said, don't contact her again.  Maybe she won't remember why your Budweiser key chain is in her bed and think it was all a horrible dream.

Ex-Sex Scenario #2.

She wanted to talk.  You talked.  She cried, you cried, you kissed her, then before you knew it…

THE DEAL: STOP!  You're making me sick, you spineless schmuck.  You fell right into her trap.  This is the oldest one in the female book.  And there IS a book.  Oprah has it.  I'll bet that at first she was angry and then she softened.  And that she had all your stuff packed up in a box and then started going through it and reminiscing.  And that she was wearing something low-cut, too.  Am I close?  I bet I am.  She played into your basest impulses, hoping to press the RESET button on the relationship.  Game Over.

HOW TO PLAY IT: Afterward, she's going to want to talk.  Sound familiar?  It should.  It's the same crap you fell for the previous night.  Under no circumstances should you get together again to talk.  No talkie in person.  Talkie on the phone if she must.

Ex-Sex Scenario #3.

You dropped off some of her stuff, she invited you in, then before you knew it….

THE DEAL: So you tried the old "let me drop off your stuff" trick and it worked?  Good job.  No tears, no pesky emotions – just "stuff". 

HOW TO PLAY IT: If you bring back the goods one shoe at a time, she'll think you're hoping for reconciliation.  So it's up to you to decide if that's what you really want.  Nine times out of ten, you should spare yourself the Sex and the City plotline and move on.

Ex-Sex Scenario #4.

You split weeks ago, no regrets.  Then you saw her out on a date with a guy who looks like a genetically altered supermale – part linebacker, part surfer, part model.  Flash forward a few days and before you know it…

THE DEAL: This is a classic case of not wanting your Playstation 2 anymore because you got a shiny new Playstation 3, then giving it to your friend, and then, as soon as you see him addicted to it – reliving the good old times, knowing how it used to work just right, caressing it oh-so-gently (yes the Playstation 2) – you've just GOT to have it back.

HOW TO PLAY IT: By getting in the way of her new life, you've sent a clear signal that you made a mistake by letting her go.  So if you don't want to be in a relationship with her again, you'll have to turn her over to the big, hulking goon you saw her with.  And be tormented by pictures of their sweaty, heaving bodies every time you close your eyes.

Ex-Sex Scenario #5.

You broke up.  And slept together.  And vowed to never do it again.  And did it again.  Then broke it off, and then, again, before you knew it….

THE DEAL: We want what we can't have – it's human nature. There's excitement in the chase and in not knowing whether you'll actually get her into bed.  And once you actually do get her into bed, the makeup sex is spectacular, as long as she doesn't start weeping in the middle of it.  Unfortunately, every time you reconnect, then disconnect, you feel that choking feeling in your chest.  If only you could stay connected all the time, the world would be a better place.  Though you'd get a lot of leg cramps.

HOW TO PLAY IT:  This arrangement usually fizzles when one or both of you falls for a less-screwed-up partner.  Yes, they exist out there somewhere.  Where? I'm not sure. Keep looking chief.

Had sex with your Ex?  How did it go?

The LONG overdue Dr. T. Brad with answers to all your questions will follow next week...

I’m losing it people.  Plain and simple.  I had an epiphany – make that several epiphanies this week.  I will list them in no particular order.

1. I am WAY too “plugged in”.

My cell phone was on the verge of completely dying at the end of last week.  It has had problems since I bought the damn thing for $400 mind you - but I just adapted to or ignored the problems.  I hope you are minding that.  So last Friday I could only talk on it if I jiggled something just the right way and I decided to call and get it replaced. Thankfully I can still send and receive text messages - my now preferred way of communicating with everyone. (more on that in a minute)  It dawned on me Friday as I was having something close to a panic attack - WHAT THE FUCK AM I GONNA DO WITHOUT MY PHONE???  I killed my landline house phone years ago since it became pretty much my Papa John's Hotline - then I discovered ONLINE ORDERING - fuck it, that phone was gone.  $60 a month to order pizza - yes, I KNOW I could have called Papa John's from my cell phone, but the magnet with the phone number was on my fridge in the kitchen where the phone was...and I wasn't about to move around all kinds of magnets.

Oh and I rarely actually speak to anyone anymore.  If you have text with me, you are special.  But if you actually get to talk to me on the phone, consider yourself VERY special.  I L-O-V-E texting.  It allows you to get your point across in 160 characters or less without having to listen to rambling babbling and useless tangents.  It's short, sweet and to the point.  Greatest invention ever.  I used to think those new automatic toasters were the greatest invention ever until I was making some delicous Pillsbury Blueberry Toater Streudel™ one morning and it popped up my hot tasty pastry and it wasn't done all the way so I went to push it back down and it popped right back up...my toaster was like "NO it's DONE" and I was like "NO it's NOT" and it kept popping it back up - that toaster is a dick.

SEE!!! USELESS RAMBLING TOASTER TANGENT...if I was texting someone that toaster story never would have happened.

So I'm sitting there and I look around - within arm's reach I have my laptop connected to the internet 24 hours a day and access to pretty much anything in the world - my TV remote with access to eleventy billion channels of mindless crap - any my phone which has internet AND tv access and is CONSTANTLY beeping at me with text messages from friends, Facebook mobile and now Twitter. 

The situation is unacceptable.

I seriously felt like my left arm was chopped off at the mere thought of not having my stupid cell phone.  I tried, I mean I REALLY tried to drift back to my childhood - even my teenage years and remember HOW THE FUCK WE SURVIVED without all this technology.  We had to deal with postmen, HAND writing letters, busy signals, 5 channels of TV and going to the LIBRARY when we needed to know something - I remember when I wanted to talk to one of my friends I had to WALK TO THEIR HOUSE - not knowing whether they were home or not.  Walking (far) on a total gamble...well not a total gamble, I mean, I called first and got the busy signal so I assumed they were home.

I'm gonna leave it here for the moment as I'm about to cross into another blog I want to write...

T. BRAD TIP OF THE WEEK:

Get all your SHIT off your cell phone on a regular basis.  If you have a smart phone you can just dump most of it to your computer - I used to have one and as far as it being "smart" - yes it was very smart when talking with my laptop but it wasn't too bright as a FUCKING PHONE.  I backed my contacts up to the Web, but all my pictures, calendar entries, and NOTES - damn I had a lot of notes - I use the notepad feature on my phone as the comedian's "cocktail napkin"  - I am constantly entering in ideas for bits in my phone and there were over 200 of them - I had to sit and retype all this shit into my laptop but the good news is that I got about 3 pages of new material out of it.

One more thing...

STOP IT.

Do you see this bunch of shit everywhere at the bottom of blogs now?  These icons for sending your fucking blog or getting it notcied by everyone on the planet or whatever half this shit does.  Do you EVER click on any of these fucking things? I know I don't.  You know why?  Because nobody GIVES A SHIT - except for other bloggers. So yeah, stop it.

In order those are icons for....

Digg - Twitter - Facebook - Del.icio.us - Google - De.lirio.us - LinkedIn - Live! - Myspace - Ping.fm - Reddit - Slashdot - StumbleUpon - Technorati - Fark - Yahoo!Buzz - Ma.gnolia - Furl - Newsvine - Email - Print

I may join or subscribe or whatever you do at "FARK" - I have no idea what it is and I don't care - they just need to change it to www.whatthefark.com and I'll sign right the fark up...

Damnit!!  I'm such a farking liar.  My other epiphany?  Yeah, I'm never leaving you guys.  My blog is going to remain a permanent fixture on the Space.  I still have a few thousand subscribers here and whenever I post anywhere else, nobody reads it.  And I'm never going to put any of that shit at the bottom of it either.  Take this as you will - remember, I AM a liar. 

I really do love you guys...that is NOT a lie.

Do you think it would be easy to go without your cell phone for even one day?

SO I DARE YOU TO TURN YOUR CELL PHONE COMPLETELY OFF FOR THE DAY - Then come and tell meyou didn't flip out...just a little.  As for me? I'm going to go on a nice little vacation and I'm not taking any of this shit with me. Details coming soon...

I have that Dr. T. Brad blog coming up and a part II to this one sort of involving kids, technology and Dane Cook's severe case of Twitterhia®....(yes, I've registered "twitterhia")

HAVE A GREAT WEEKEND EVERYBODY!

One of my male readers (they DO exist) sent me an email asking me, "just what is it that women talk about when they go in groups to the bathroom? What's the big secret?" While I have never been in the ladies room during one of these "meetings", I can, and will, spill some of the things they don't want us to know.

She wore that low-cut top so you'd notice her chest.  You really don't think that short skirt and generous display of cleavage was an accident do you? I mean, a woman would never dare look in a mirror before she left the house. She wants you to gaze upon her breasts like the works of art that they are. So not only is it OK for your eyes to drift down, but it could also be a deal-breaker if they dont. The only thing is: You can never be caught staring. I know women that have "first date" tops, totally revealing, and they make a little game out of watching you try to avoid looking at their boobs. But if you don't get caught taking at least one peek, you could quickly be labeled gay. So remember this. Noticing her breasts: very good. Staring at her breasts: not so good. Actually conducting a conversation with her breasts: bad.

She wants you just as much as you want her.   Just because she isn't slowly licking her lips while being mesmerized by the bulge in your pants, it doesn't mean she isn't thinking about treating you like the pizza boy in a bad porno. Because maybe, she is hungry for pizza. Or maybe she's even hungry for you. In fact, if she's just met you or you've been dating for a while, she's usually wondering, "When are we going to stop talking and start getting naked and sweaty? I would really like to work off that pint of Ben and Jerry's I polished off last night." Women are just better at hiding it. You would be shocked to learn how many of the cute, sweet-looking girls you run into at bars all want to get laid as bad as you do. They can get crazy frustrated when there's too long of a gap in-between sexual encounters just like us. Sometimes women want a man the second they see him. And they can spend massive, unhealthy amounts of time fantasizing about having sex with guys they barely know. Does one of those guys she "barely knows" sound a lot like you? Bingo, dude. When you meet a new woman, assume you're the right guy, but without being cocky. Don't share that clever play on words. Instead, just meet or beat her mild expectations, and you'll be delivering her pizza by midnight.

She masturbated sometime this week.  Think you're the only one choking the chicken, spanking the monkey, punching the peacock and making really lame jack-off metaphors? Women give themselves a hand almost as often as guys do,
(TIME OUT: Pausing to consider this lovely image)
A national survey of 10,000 - 18-35 year-old women revealed that they masturbate once a week or more. Vibrators play their wondrous part, but the typical weapons of choice are fingers and showerheads - specifically showerheads still attached to the plumbing. In fact, a woman may have been pleasuring herself on your subway ride this morning. Many women can do it fully clothed. Crossed legs provide great friction. They can do it on crowded buses, airplanes, and the bikes at the gym. Your best move: Watch densely populated areas for a woman whose eyes are rolling backward. As she starts to scream, introduce yourself, because when she's thinking of sex, you want her to be thinking of you.

She's screwed up when it comes to relationships. Popular thinking says that guys are relationship-challenged, while women are born with a relationship gene (located next to the shopping gene). Nothing could be less true. Except the part about guys. And shopping. Most women are as skeptical about love and as insecure about their intimacy skills as men are. So, YEE-HA! You don't have to be perfect because she's a mess too, right? Well, not exactly...but keep in mind that all women aren't experts at planning couple-ish things, knowing when to say just the right thing, or bringing up the issues. So cut the girls some slack, if things aren't going the way you want them to go, feel free to take the wheel and turn the corner. Then find a dark place to park.

She waxed her bikini line or the whole show before your first date just in case. The rationale? Hey, you never know- this one might sweep me off my feet and into his bed. And she de-fuzzes more than her legs. Chances are, she also cleaned her apartment, changed her sheets, and tucked the economy-sized box of pregnancy tests way in the back of her medicine cabinet. Even if you don't have sex, you may sleep over, so she plans for it. I have one friend that always buys a new container of OJ, eggs, and bacon, just for the potential of the next morning. So guys, check out her sheets, check out her personal grooming, and check her fridge for OJ - he could be in there looking for the REAL killers. If all is in place, she could be planning on having sex with you, or she could be planning on eating breakfast.

She's interested in a no-strings relationship, too.   It used to be that this was strictly male territory. But modern girls fight for their right to freak out at the prospect of monogamy as much as you do. She doesn't want to commit to Mr. Almost Perfect because Mr. Perfect could show up next week. Plus, what happens if all the romance and passion disappears once you're officially boyfriend/girlfriend? And then there's the fear of having to sacrifice the nice little world she's created for herself - career, social life, Monday nights without football. This is one of the reasons girls like the bad boys. They're so unavailable, there's no risk of having to settle down with them. Well, that and their wives are always around the corner.

She gets off on quickies. Long, languid, lovemaking sessions are all good and fine. But more women than you think crave it fast, furious, and foreplay-less. A lot of women love the feeling of being taken "right now". Throw them on the bed, frantically rip off clothing and give it to her hard. Just not ALL THE TIME. Believe it or not, women get tired of being nibbled on endlessly. She is not a wheel of Brie. You are not a mouse. Unless, of course, she smells like Brie and you're wearing big black ears. I'm just saying...

She wants you to pay.  Forget feminism or the fact that she makes buckets more money than you do. First date, you pay. If she offers to go halfsies? It's a trap, dumbass. She's only offering you money just to see if you're the type of loser who'll say yes. You say you don't mind if she thinks you're a cheap bastard? What about a cheap bastard who's bad in the sack. There's a school of thought floating around out there that says how generous a man is with his wallet (and waiters) is indicative of how generous he'll be in bed. It may be just as much crap as the size of his feet, but some people believe that too.

She's worried about her love handles, not yours.  The first time you get naked together, all (ok, not all) she's thinking is: Oh shit! The lights are on and he can see my cellulite! Or, He's seeing my disproportionately large boobs! (Yes some women consider that a problem. Very strange.) She's usually quite busy trying to get herself in a position that flatters her, like on her back - her stomach looks flatter, so don't argue with her until the lights are out - so she's not really paying attention to your body at all. So don't let your body stand in the way of a completely out-of-body sexual experience. She won't care if you skipped your ab-rolling for the past few weeks, or years, or lifetimes. Second penis? OK, she might notice that, but she'd only be happy for you both. Or the three of you. Or something.

She compares notes. Oh yes, she does.  Don't worry - your lean to the left is just between you, her and her 12 closest friends. The ugly truth is that women talk, and they do so in anatomically correct detail. It's rarely benign. They WILL talk about last night with you - graphically - the good, the bad, and the ugly. Then she'll come back to you portraying sex as such a sacred and private thing, never letting on that she's spilling the beans to the girls. And grandma. And the guy who cuts her hair. And that nice lady at the laundromat. And...ok, I'm done.

I know, I know....the female mafia just put a hit out on my informant. 

What else goes through your minds girls??