-I’m an avid sports fan and television aficionado, enjoy travel and working out, and possess a growing shot glass collection. But in reality, I – like most men – have but one true hobby: women. You see, the male mind may be disorganized and easily distracted, but there is a single rule that trumps all others: ladies first. The irony, of course, is that despite our tireless study and pursuit of the fairer sex, guys continue to be confounded by their seemingly arbitrary behavior. It’s that unpredictability that make women so frustrating, inscrutable – and downright irresistible.

-I think that when women turn thirty, they shift from picking apart every little thing a guy does as a reason why he’s an asshole, to rationalizing every little thing a guy does as a reason why he has potential: “Look at the way Jim parallel parks…I really think he could be the one.”

-Ladies, if you ask me a question while your breasts or my junk is exposed, there is a 100% chance you’ll get the answer you want, but only a 50% chance I’ll be telling the truth.

-Why do women run so awkwardly? Tuck those elbows in! You’re jogging, not attempting liftoff.

-A few years ago, I was making out with a chick at a bar, but I couldn’t close, so I took her number instead. Then I called her so that she’d have my number – but when her phone rang, I saw that KARO came up. She already had me in her address book! I had absolutely no recollection of previously meeting her…but even so, why would she make out with me if I never called her the first time?

-Guys in relationships often picture other women in their heads when sleeping with their girlfriends. It’s true – we get bored. So I guess the fact that I picture other women in my head even when I’m having a one-night stand just means I have a very short attention span.

-During interviews to promote my new book, I’m often asked where the best places to meet women are. There are really only two answers, though: bars and Facebook. I mean, it’s 2009. What am I supposed to say? The library? The grocery store? We all know our generation needs alcohol and/or the Internet to get laid.

-Have you even been out with someone who said, “I just love being single”? Well, sure, we all do. But that’s not exactly appropriate first date conversation.

-BlackBerrys should come with the warning “messages onscreen are shorter than they appear.” I can’t tell you how many times I’ve glanced at my Curve and seen a two-paragraph email from a girl I slept with once, and been convinced she’s writing to tell me she’s pregnant. Then I look closer, realize it’s only one innocuous sentence, and breathe a sigh of relief. But I never question my life of pulling ass and (sometimes) taking names. Instead, I wonder, how many paternity scares will it take me to use a smaller font?

-As always, here are some random things I’ve been ruminating about lately…

-Studies conclusively show that stress does not actually cause gray hair. I think the myth persists, though, because when you’re stressed as all hell is the only time you ever stare at your follicles closely enough to notice the gray ones.

-I support and admire our troops, but I have no idea how their ranking system works. Oh, you’re a corporal? So…does that mean you shine boots with a toothbrush, or you’re in charge of the entire army?

-Elementary school comebacks are acceptable when talking to yourself and addressing inanimate objects. For instance, I just booked a trip online and was asked during checkout if I wanted to pay to offset the carbons emissions of my flight. To no one in particular I said, “Yeah…let’s not and say we did.”

-The worst part about submitting a maintenance request to my apartment building is not being able to masturbate in peace for the rest of the day.

-Nothing transports you back to college faster than getting in an elevator that smells like beer.

-Why even ask, Mr. Checkbox, if you’re not gonna remember me anyway?

-I hate getting emails with the signature “Sent from my iPhone” at the bottom. Not only are you a douche with an iPhone, but now I know you couldn’t even bother to sit down at your computer and compose a response like a civilized human.

-The fourth mistype or misclick is the worst. The first time is just an honest mistake. The second time you’re still not really paying attention. The third time starts to get frustrating. And by the fourth time you’re actually trying hard not to fuck it up, but do anyway – which sends you into a blind rage.

-I almost got into a fight with an obnoxious Lakers fan at the sports bar in Hollywood where I watched the Yankees clinch the title. “We’re in LA, dude,” he yelled. Sorry, chief, but if I’m watching Game Six of the World Series, you should not be screaming louder than me if you’re watching Game Five…of the regular season.

-And, finally, as my parents’ 35th wedding anniversary approaches next week, I can’t help but marvel at what an incredible milestone it is. Especially since I’ve barely ever even dated a girl for 35 weeks. I don’t know what the secret to my parents’ success is, but it can’t hurt that they watch television every night in separate rooms. In fact, I think that’s one of their more brilliant moves – two DVRs equals true domestic bliss. One thing I do know for certain, though, is that I’m a carbon copy of my dad. So if my mom can put up with him for three and a half decades, there’s probably a girl out there for this intrepid bachelor. Hell, she might even already have my number in her phone. Fuck me!

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