I’ll be fat for Christmas.

This is not the month to practice restraint. Baby carrots? Cottage cheese? Michelob Ultra? What? Not when there are bowls of these devilish delights called Pretzel M&Ms around. Why should we deprive ourselves? How much irreparable damage can we do in two, short weeks anyway? This will lead up perfectly to our New Year’s resolution. If we don’t pack pounds on now, the success of our resolution will be hard to measure.

Here are some goodies we need to seek and hoard, especially when fat Uncle Tommy is hovering near the buffet:

• Cream cheese and salami roll-ups – These can easily be stacked like Jenga blocks and devoured.
• Deviled eggs – Sprinkle some extra paprika on them and deliver an nasty egg burp to make your niece giggle.
• Pot stickers – Who cares what’s inside? Dunk them in duck sauce and down the hatch!
• Candy – This is why you have pockets. Make sure the coast is clear and load away. Left pockets are for jellybeans and right pockets are for chocolate. I’d avoid the nonpareils or you’ll be finding melted sugar dots in your slacks.
• Sandwiches made from cheese cubes and Doritos – Throw in some ranch dressing for fun.
• Artichoke dip – When fragile pita is foolishly served by an inconsiderate host, grab a spoon. Shovel in a lump of dip and then bite a stale pita crisp. Mission accomplished.
• Meatballs – Wait a minute. Are you wearing white? Hm. OK, do not bite the meatball or you’re going to be wearing it. Shove the entire burger pop into your mouth. For added flavor, roll the tasty ball in red pepper flakes or parmesan.
• Assorted Liquors – Nothing you drink at a party should be sans alcohol unless you’re pregnant. I suggest adding Bailey’s to your coffee. It’s more fun than creamer and only a few million calories.
• Olives – Any host who serves plain olives is uncultured. Olives must be stuffed, and not just with boring pimentos. Pack them with bleu cheese, garlic, and anchovies. Don’t you dare wrinkle that nose, young lady. Anchovies are seafood, which even Dr. Oz says is good for you.
• Pigs-in-a-Blanket – These take various forms depending which coast you are on. Halupkis (stuffed cabbage) are my favorite and I highly recommend them with a side of Beano.

Skip the gym, Sugarcookie. These two weeks of indulgences are your rewards for the goodies you passed up all year. As you perform your bedtime tooth-brushing, admire your handy work in the mirror and be proud of those jiggles. If you have a bed warmer, that fucker had better be on the same program or you’ll need to kick his vinaigrette-eating ass to the curb. I have little patience for skinny pricks during the holidays.

Now, mangia!

Bachelors and bachelorettes have talent, America.

When this popped up on my Facebook stream, I admit I felt it deserved further investigation. The teaser said it featured two stars from The Bachelor showing their Cirque du Soleil skills. I love those pliable clowns wearing all that makeup. The Cirque performers are talented too.

How could I resist?

I clicked, viewed, and realized it’s as sensible as a picture of me tossing a crumpled piece of paper showing my skill of throwing 100MPH fastballs. Stupid. In the picture, Tenley and Kypton (ew, their names even annoy me) are playing a dumb game of airplane that children play. It’s not cute; it’s dangerous.

Sure, the picture shows Tennie beaming as she soars over freakishly strong Kyppie, but we all need to know what happened next!

• She fell and smashed the dog, which means no more dog-sitting jobs for the talented duo.
• One of her earrings came loose and lodged itself in Kyppie’s throat.
• She took it up a notch by adding the other fun game of letting a spit pendulum hang toward his face and sucking it back just before it touches his nose.
• She fell backwards and smashed the TV.
• They realized a strange person was in the home kneeling next to them while holding a camera and simultaneously screamed.
• Tennie noticed that Kyppie left his “god damn sneakers” under the sofa again.
• Kyppie realized his pink toenail polish could use some retouching.
• They chest-bumped and began planning how to spend all the money they were paid for the "exclusive."

See the exclusive picture and article on WetPaint.com.

How to be a little rough in the sack.

I’ve finished the informative book, Just F*ck Me! - What Women Want Men to Know About Taking Control in the Bedroom (A Guide for Couples) by Eve Kingsley. I must admit I feel slightly bruised and dirty. Ah, I kid. It is an interesting book with many concepts foreign to a nice guy like me.

Eve makes sure the goofy apemen who read her book are clear about the distinction between being aggressive in a stimulating way and causing injury. To a certain point, that’s subjective. The main lesson is there must be clear lines of communication and frequent feedback. Obviously, there’s a big difference between a rape fantasy and rape.

Nobody said this would be easy.

1. Spanking – In the odd situation where I spank (more like tap) a lover, I find myself reflexively raising my guard in case she wheels around and clocks me in the choppers. Eve recommends the spank be sandwiched by caressing. All right, but that never prevents my girlish squeal when I receive a shot (not the tasty kind served with a lime).

2. Pinning Her Arms Down – Men, when you’re on top, grab both her wrists and pin them behind her head. Make sure your legs are inside hers or you may take a knee to the jobbers. I also like to add in neck nibbling, unless she’s wearing a wool scarf; it’s itchy.

3. Dirty Talk – I work with too many words to enjoy this without giggling or correcting her grammar. I don’t like being called names, other than “The Luscious Italian Tripod.” For some odd reason, there are women who don’t mind (or rather enjoy) being called one of more the following during intercourse:
a. Slut
b. Whore (or ’Ho in certain parts)
c. Dirty
d. Naughty
e. Slave
f. Servant
g. Filthy
h. Mommy
i. Bad
j. Evil

4. Kamimaze Sex – OK, I made this name up. Chicks get tingly when they see that stairwell quick-bang in the movie Unfaithful. This is one time when the man isn’t penalized for unloading in under a minute. When she least expects it and still wants it (good luck figuring that one out), shove her up against the wall/staircase, yank down her bottoms, and grind her into the drywall/carpet. You’ll probably cause some brush burns, so have Neosporin handy. NOTE: Please don’t do this at the office, daycare center, or in my kitchen.

5. Role Playing – Grown people do this? Really? Not just on Halloween? Reality has a way of obscuring fantasy and ruining the fun for me. Hey, whatever gets your blood pooling. You can play master/servant, maid/butler, coach/player (except in central Pennsylvania), quarterback/cheerleader, priest/confessor, officer/criminal, prom king/prom queen, or bar slut/bar player. Ooh, how about this one: author/reader? Saucy!

Could your love life use some freshening? Bring home lotions, toys, and liquor; mix in a little kink; and postpone your mate’s consideration of trading your boring ass in for a pug, hobby, or more open-minded lover.

Places to meet your soul mate.

It strikes me as ironic when I meet a woman in a bar who tells me how she doesn’t expect to meet anyone in a bar. Hello-o? A bar is the ideal place to meet your next mate. There you can see how well he plays with others and how well she can handle her liquor (or “truth serum,” as often is the case). If there’s music playing you can study his movements to see what he’ll be like in the sack. If she’s flailing her arms while wearing fingerless gloves, eighties-style, she’s bound to pound the baby batter out of you. Request some Go-Go’s and make your move, Bucko!

Other places that (insensible) people suggest as preferable places to meet a mate include:

• Church – (*yawn*) Really? I assume this is because it means you share the faith. I’m here to tell you that’s unlikely. One of you is going to be more superstitious than the other (read “holier than thou”) and soon you’ll want to smite her.
• Grocery Store – People rarely go there to browse. It’s get in, get the eggs, milk, and muffins, pay, and get out. Now, in the odd chance you find a smartly dressed person lingering in the personal lubricant section, it does merit further investigation.
• Networking Event – If you’re an extrovert, this can work. Then again, you’ve probably dated many of the people attending the event, which will turn into one, massive cock-blocking party.
• Youth Athletic Event – ONLY if you have children participating is this acceptable. Still, beer drinking is discouraged and children are clumsy and noisy, so I’d skip it. (Can you tell I’m childless?)
• Marathons – Rarely do I find myself anxious to penetrate a sweaty person wearing a knee brace and safety-pinned number. It’s better when I cause my mate to sweat without chasing her. However, two runners in one family will help you meet your medical deductible sooner.
• Concerts – What? I can’t hear you. Did you say you love the head twat silly steppers? I never heard of them. I said I never … oh, never mind.
• Coffee Shops – Zombies go to coffee shops. These people are either half-asleep or in a mid-afternoon coma. If you ask one for her number, she’ll probably punch you in the dick for startling her.
• Online – Ever see those fast-food burger ads? Does the burger you unwrap ever resemble the one in the ad? No, it doesn’t. Guess how closely his dating profile pictures will match.
• Through a Mutual Friend – Your friends are secretly either jealous of you or annoyed by you to some degree. If they are trying to hook you up it is because they want to live vicariously through you or put an end to your incessant whining and pet accumulation.
• The Gym – We’re all wearing headphones in the gym so we aren’t distracted by the awful music they have piped in and the obnoxious grunts of sleeveless monkeys. It’s all sign language in the gym and there’s no clear way to sign that you want to do naked pushups without risking a severe beating.
• Reunions – Haven’t we already done this? Twenty years around these people wasn’t enough? Now we have to do it every five years as well? I think not. Unless, of course, that blowjob queen you keep bragging about to your friends happens to be attending.

Go to a bar, people. Drink until somebody gets cute and hope the fellow patrons follow suit.

Band of Mothers vs. Band of Brothers

It was a full moon on a Saturday—a perfect night to put on my drinker’s cap. The scene: a local pub showing MMA fights. In one corner (of the pub) was a band of brothers who traded their weapons for lady-killing devices. They were young and hungry. In another corner was a band of mothers who traded their mundane married lives for a night on the town wearing bull’s-eyes. A confrontation was inevitable with me stuck in the middle.

Ding!

I ask many questions; women like that. I do more pinging than ponging because other people’s lives are more interesting than mine. When a question comes my way, I deflect and redirect. I wasn’t out to sell any books last night, so I played ring announcer as I interviewed the contestants.

“These are my friends Kari, Eve, and Beth.”

“So nice to meet you all. Give me the tale of the tape.”

“Huh?”

“Single, married, divorced; kids; occupation; and what-have-you. Just the facts ma’am.”

“We all have teenage children.”

“Yes?”

“Kari here is divorced and she kind of has a boyfriend.”

“Kind of?”

“Her boyfriend is like twenty years younger, so …”

“’Nuf said.”

“Eve is separated and looking to have fun, if you know what I mean.”

“I do.”

“Beth’s relationship is complicated.”

“Aren’t they all?”

“She’s married, living with her husband, but they don’t sleep together. They’re staying together for the kids and because it would be too expensive to split.”

“I may have heard that story somewhere before. So, these ladies are in the arena for what purpose?”

“To have fun.”

“Which includes?”

“I don’t know, hooking up, I guess. I’m married so I can’t relate. I’m just here as a friend.”

“Really?”

“Must husband travels for work, that’s why he isn’t here.”

“Hm.”

“We’re fine. I mean, he is away most of the time—like three weeks a month.”

“Strange.”

“Sure, I wish he were around more, but …”

“Sounds to me like you could be joining this band of mothers soon.”

“Maybe.”

Kari was flirting heavily with the brothers as her teammates giggled. Then, I spoiled the fun by pointing out the flagrant foul.

“She’s into these young boys because there’s no way she’d fall in love with one. It’s safe sex, so to speak.”

Eve was the most aggressive of the bunch, but she was also the most critical. I expected that when I noticed her designer outfit, hair extensions, and various enhancements.

“What are you looking for, Eve?”

“There are only like two attractive guys in this whole place.”

“None taken.”

“How do you know you’re not one of the two?”

“Just a hunch, sugar.”

Beth was the rookie. Her smirks and shy smiles told me she wanted some quick naughtiness without complications. A toy to kiss, touch, and leave without her number would suit her just fine.

“Beth, you have a mischievous look.”

“I’m feeling kind of frisky, I admit. You seem cool enough, so I can tell you.”

When a woman calls me “cool enough” she means I’m not a mating option, so she can tell me sexy, slutty stories without defending herself. Works for me.

“Do tell.”

“I had my first ever one-night stand last weekend.”

“You naughty girl.”

“I know! It was so bad. I felt dirty, in a good way. It was my birthday party and I was a little tipsy. God, it was awesome sex.”

“Sorry I missed it.”

The mothers and brothers flirted and teased. An hour of the game is all I could stand. I excused myself, paid my tab, and headed for the showers. I hope both teams scored.

Don’t be so hard on yourself.

Do you ever stand in front of the mirror and think or say things about yourself you’d never tolerate coming from another person? We all do that. It’s sad. The next time you’re tempted to seek answers from the person in the mirror, insist upon kindness.

Here, imagine I’m your mirror.

“Ugh, I feel fat. Why can’t I lose this extra weight around the middle?”

“You’re not fat; you’re healthy. You don’t have any magazine covers to shoot, and those are all airbrushed anyway. I love your curves.”

“More wrinkles. I guess it’s time for Botox.”

“You earned every wrinkle you have and if you keep trying to smooth them out, you’re going to make it worse. You know how you can pick out every person who has had work done, right? It doesn’t look natural. Stop fighting it and age gracefully. People will love you with or without a few wrinkles.”

“I’m so stupid. I can’t believe I did that.”

“It was a mistake, darling. We all make them. You will either learn from it or beat yourself up and be destined to repeat it. Why don’t you forgive yourself and shrug it off?”

“I love this person so dearly. Why isn’t my love returned?”

“Because that person is unaware, selfish, or simply not worthy. See your love as a donation and move on to a more deserving recipient.”

“Gosh, I look horrible in this outfit. I don’t know what to wear.”

“Actually, you look splendid, but if you feel more comfortable in something else, change. Your attitude shows more about you than your outfit does. Wear confidence and you’ll be admired.”

“Everything seems to be spinning out of control. Why can’t I catch a break?”

“We all need to play through our slumps. Put away that white flag, pick yourself up, and try again.”

“I’m so tired of seeing all the happy couples. Why can’t I find my soul mate?”

“Don’t assume that every couple is happy. The most attractive people are those who are happy alone because they don’t place all the pressure of their happiness upon their partners. Do what it takes to appreciate your serenity and watch the soul mates come knocking.”

“I can’t believe that person hurt me.”

“Instead of seeing it as something he did to you, see it as something he did for himself. Few people wish to cause pain to others. They’re too selfish or blind to realize the effect their actions have.”

“It’s off to another depressing day at work.”

“Quit. Go to work and resign today, then start looking for the job you want. It’s out there. Don’t worry about the salary. When you find work you love to do, the pay will come. The ideal job is  waiting for you, not waiting to come to you.”

Do whatever it takes to rebuild your confidence and self-esteem. Think about how attractive a confident person is to you. You’re no different. If you continue abusing yourself, you’ll invite abusive people into your life. Praise yourself and you’ll be surrounded by appreciative people.

I, for one, think you’re magnificent. Now, pay it forward.

An introvert’s guide to attending social mixers.

If you’re the life of the party who flits around filling wine glasses and karaoke request sheets, your presence is not required here. Go make some napkin animals, deviled eggs, mini-cupcakes, or something. Seriously, go away. Shoo!

Ah, serenity.

All my fellow introverts remain. Now we can discuss strategies to seem extroverted without turning into that annoying you-know-who (who had better not still be reading this).

You’re going to be invited to parties, friend. You can’t keep tossing random excuse after random excuse at the party hosts or you’ll be left holding your pet. Let’s scratch these excuses from our repertoire:

• “Oh, gee, sorry. I have that thing I have to do.”
• “Unfortunately, I’m going to be out of town.”
• “I feel like I have a cold coming on.”
• “I have to work.”
• “I have another event I must attend.”

The host will accept your excuse but she’ll also know you’re ducking her.

The next invitation you receive must be returned with the “I will attend” box checked. Ideally, you’ll also have a plus one or more. If the host greedily placed a line after the box reading something like, “I will be bringing [insert food and drink thingies],” I have some suggestions:

• Mini-carrots and mayonnaise packets
• Doritos
• Vanilla soda
• Blue Jell-O cubes
• A bib

Now, always arrive to the party early. This is crucial because you need to scout the area and claim a space. I typically bring a jacket and drape it over a chair in the far corner facing the front door. We introverts like crowds as long as we have our people-free zone. Outdoor parties allow for the digging of a moat. Indoor, not so much. Block yourself in with chairs, stool, and ottomans.

Since the extroverts will be dodging around the place pressing palms and patting shoulders, you’d be wise to stay put and let them come to you. When these grown infants corner you and suggest the following, smile and say “Fuck off” with your inside-your-head voice.

• “Are you having a good time?”
• “Have you met my Uncle Otis? He’s a hoot.”
• “Are you feeling OK?”
• “So, are you doing anything special for the holidays?”
• “Are you still single? You should meet my cousin Agnes.”
• “Why aren’t you dancing?”
• “You’re totally stoned, aren’t you?”

A good way to keep yourself amused while repelling these human mosquitoes is to latch on to another introvert and play a little game I like to call, “Holy shit, who dresses you?” You take turns pointing out the most awful sweaters, jeans, shoes, and Botox blunders.

A poor strategy employed by some of my fellow intros involves being hunched on the sofa playing iPhone word games. It’s not so much that it’s rude. We each could use a chubbier vocabulary. (In fact, go look up “codswallop.” It’s a good one to deploy when Betty accuses you of being unsociable.) The problem is it will cause premature curvature of the spine.

When the last guests arrive, it’s a good time to leave. If you don’t leave at the busiest time, you may be stuck saying goodbye to the hosts, who will once again badger you with accusatory questions. Exits are easy. Grab a beer from the cooler in the garage and keep walking. Make it a road soda. Pretend you have a call and no reception inside the house, then sneak away. Go have a smoke. You don’t smoke? Well, maybe it’s a good time to start.

Be prepared for the “What happened to you?” emails and text-messages the following day. Best to delete them and, if you’re asked, say you’ll check your junk mail folder and get back to them.