Did You Stop to Think?

Put Obama on Everything

2009-01-20T11:47:00.000-08:00

Mugs, shirts, pens, buttons, cards, scarves, pants... You name it and there's a significant chance someone is selling it with Obama's image on it. The economy may very well get out of the read solely due to the sales of products with Obama on them. Want to sell a home or even a raggety, old barn? Paint Obama's face on the side. American automobile owners need only to put Obama's profile on their headlights and they'll be back to selling cars like hotcakes. Replace gas station signs with a giant Obama face and you'll be able to charge $10 a gallon; people will pay it without so much as a blink. Say what you want about Obama; think what you want. No matter what happens with his presidency, one thing is certain: he has already done more good for the economy than Bush in his eight years of office simply by being Obama.

"Sex Drive" Movie

2008-10-31T16:03:00.001-07:00

I've received a couple emails over the last week that my book was stolen by the film "Sex Drive." I checked out the description of the flick and there are some striking similarities; however, it appears to be the basic teen-needs-to-get-laid-travels-to-do-so formula. Yeah, the lead shares my name, graduates high school a virgin, and lives in Chicago, so that does seem a little odd. When it comes out on DVD, I'll check it out and we shall see... Happy Halloween!

Bail Out Wrong People?

2008-10-14T12:41:00.000-07:00

Instead of bailing out the businesses and banks, what if the $700 billion went to paying off all the mortgages for the homeowners? Wouldn't that solve both the economic and individual problems? I think if taxpayers truly had a choice, we'd vote to have our neighbors' houses paid off.

Hooker Porn

2008-10-02T10:05:00.000-07:00

Prostetution is illegal. Porn is not. So, if you're cruising for a hooker, just carry a waiver to shoot a film on ya. If a cop stops you, you will just soliciting for a film. If you get caught back in the hotel room, you forgot to have her sign the waiver... and to take the lens cap off the camcorder. Your bad. Really, people, if you can't think of this stuff, how badly do you really want to get laid?

New Free Ebook

2008-09-10T12:55:00.000-07:00

There is a new, free ebook on my site, www.godisawoman.net. The direct link is here: http://www.godisawoman.net/Articles/The%20New%20Way%20to%20Date%20ebook%20-%205%20Steps%20to%20Great%20Dating.pdf Trust me; read it. It gives you the simple steps I use to date that work every time. These steps build momentum and eliminate all the stressors of dating, like “How long should I wait before I call?” or “Why hasn’t he called me, yet? We had a great date, didn’t we?” These steps are why I have fun dating. Of course, I use my newest relationship as an example in the ebook, so you can clearly see how it all works.

2008-09-02T14:18:00.000-07:00

A guy and popular blogger, Legal Pub, who has become an Internet friend posted today about the serious crime of date rape. Here’s the link: http://legalpublication.blogspot.com/2008/09/actress-dame-helen-brings-date-rape.html

I wanted to point out an additional aspect of date rape along with other advice, which comes right out of God. It’s a story in which I nearly date raped someone, which, of course, surprised the hell out of me. (Please excuse any unusual spacing, etc; it’s a problem with Wordpress and their CSS’s, which occur when you cut & paste from Word.)

The Bitter Babe

Okay, we’ve discussed the bitter friend, but what about the bitter babe? The bitter babe is very different from the bitter friend. She is pretty and fed up with men and dating. Any woman can be a bitter babe at some point in her life.
A few years ago I was at a charity fundraiser thrown by an organization called the 20/30 Club. The club was started years ago by a bunch of young male professionals who wanted to meet more women, as well as help charities. They formed an organization that uses worthy causes and social events to bring professional singles together. Two great activities killed with one stone; what a great concept. The fundraiser was held at a bar called Jack Sullivan’s, which no longer exists, which is too bad because I did pretty well with women at that bar. (Every guy has a few bars where he has good success meeting women, and a few others where he can’t even get women to acknowledge he exists.)
One time at Jack’s, Steve and I ended up standing next to a group of pretty coeds who were looking for some action. They started pulling up each others shirts and flashing one another. It’s pretty easy to hook up with a woman when all a guy has to do is say, “Nice breasts.” Clearly, God—angry that I was successful with women at Jack’s—caused the bar to be closed.
I went to the charity event at Jack’s with a few buddies. We were all looking to meet someone, not to hook up with, but to date. We arrived early enough to commandeer a table and chairs. We were there for only a few minutes when a pretty redhead and blonde walked into the bar. They walked past us and headed upstairs. I noticed the redhead glance back at me a few times. The two women set up shop near the railing of the second floor. They people-watched patrons on the first floor from their post. I caught the redhead looking at me a bunch of times within the first twenty minutes. I sized her up: very pretty, early thirties, 5’7”, good body, nice tight butt. Her breasts were a little more than a handful, which I liked. Her bright blue eyes were the kiss of death. They lured me in all the way, especially with their contrast to her long red hair.
She scanned the room relentlessly. She scrutinized guys. She seemed a little annoyed and crossed her arms repeatedly. She didn’t laugh or smile. I decided to remain at my table for the night and not hit on women. Bad strategy to meet the redhead, right? Wrong. Different types of women need to be approached using different tactics. A lot of guys use the same tactic to meet women. They go out, they approach a woman, if she’s not interested or has a boyfriend, they move on to the next one. The weakness with this tactic is that women notice when guys hop around from one woman to the next. This offends lots of them and is a huge turnoff. It only works for trixies, vain women, and girls with low self-esteem.
These three types of women have a strong need to feel like they are the most desirable woman in the room. If a guy hops around and gets positive attention from the women he approaches, he will pique the competitive interest of trixies and other women with low self-esteem. When he selects one of these girls, she feels like she has won out over the other girls. This is important to her. Confident women don’t need such an ego boost. They don’t care to talk to a guy who is so obviously on the prowl. (Incidentally, if a guy hops around and is shunned by most of the women he meets, which is often the case, girls with low self-esteem will hardly say a word to him; they don’t want to be associated with other women’s rejects.)
This explains why confident beautiful women, referred to by some as “tens” (I’m not into the whole numbering system), sometimes date physically less-than-flattering guys. They know they are stunning and they have nothing to prove, so they don’t have the trixie competitive nature. They don’t need other women to be jealous of them in order to feel complete. Instead, they can simply go out with whomever they wish, as in the case of Nikki Cox and Bobcat Goldthwait.
Why don’t I like the numbering system? It’s inconsistent. A ten to one guy is often a seven to me and vice-versa. What’s the criteria? The system is too subjective to answer that question. Lots of guys give women with big fake breasts high numbers. I don’t find anything attractive about fake breasts and give these same women low numbers. Lots of magazines rate Halle Berry as the prettiest woman in Hollywood; I prefer Claire Forlani. It’s no secret why. Compare their eyes and remember my big weakness with women. Mostly, numbering is insulting to women. Instead, I just describe the woman and guys can assign her a number based on their own preferences, if they so wish.
The redhead wasn’t a trixie. She didn’t show signs of low of self-esteem. She watched various guys operate and seemed to criticize them to her friend. Every now and then, she glanced in my direction. What did she see when she checked on me? A guy just hanging out with his friends. I talked only to the women who were near us or who approached me. I was not on the prowl.
A lot of guys checked out the redhead but she was not approachable. She did not look like she was out to meet anyone. One guy did manage to talk to her at length. He was big, probably 6’4” with a solid build, about my age, twenty-eight. He’d talk to her for a while then go hit on younger women. When that didn’t pan out, he returned to her until other young trixies caught his eye. He’d go talk to them and then return. Eventually, he reduced his hopping around to just the redhead and one young trixie. Who would be the one lucky enough to nab him? Through it all, the redhead kept checking on me. I waited patiently. The big guy’s tactic wasn’t going to work on her, so I didn’t concern myself with him. My friend Steve showed up and I pointed out the big guy while making fun of his tactics, which is exactly what the redhead was doing with her friend. I knew she’d see me doing it, too.
It was really funny. The big guy was treating the redhead and the trixie the same. This is one big flaw with a lot of the books that give advice to guys on dating—they treat all women the same. The advice they give is geared primarily toward meeting, and typically nailing, shallow, pretty women. But, they insist that the advice is good for all women. They basically lump all women together into one mold. Unfair. That’s like suggesting all baseball players are the same just because they play baseball. Certainly not true; some are better hitters, some pitch, some field better, and so forth. It is the same for women, which is why the key to success starts with observation and has little to do with following a set procedure.
The bar thinned out as closing time neared. The redhead stood alone, still watching people over the rail. Her friend was busy talking to some guy; the big guy was talking to the trixie. It was time to make my move. I headed up the stairs and walked over to her. I didn’t say anything but instead leaned over the rail, looking where she was looking. I waited a few moments before speaking, “You’ve been up here all night watching people. So tell me, what are we looking at?”
She pointed to different patrons, “Well, that guy wants to go home with her, and she likes him, and that big guy there looks like a boring fuck anyway, and that guy there is gay and doesn’t know it.”
The “big guy” she referred to was the one who had been hitting on her earlier. She went on about him, “He just wants to pick up some young woman. The whole thing is pathetic, all these people trying to lie their way into bed. I’m so sick of the dating scene. If you wanna fuck me, just say you wanna fuck me, you know?”
Direct and honest. I like that in a woman. It’s a sign of maturity and confidence. I caught a glimpse of Steve approaching out of my eye. He arrived just in time to hear “If you wanna fuck me, just say you wanna fuck me.” He shook his head in disbelief. I could have said I wanted to fuck her. A lot of guys would have, but that was the wrong way to go. She’d know I was just saying what I thought she wanted to hear, and that would annoy her.
She was hurt that the big guy was going after a younger edition and she wasn’t going to put up with that shit. What did she want? To be fucked? To leave with the big guy? She wanted a victory; not a victory as in a guy, but rather a victory in the form of being one up on men. I was happy to give it to her; she deserved it. In response to her fuck-me line, without missing a beat, I gave my reply, “Wow. You’ve stumped me. No one’s ever stumped me, but you just did.”
She smiled, “Really?”
We spoke for about ten minutes. She was very bitter. Along with being upset at the big guy and with dating in general, she was overworked at a job she hated, angry with a guy she was “kind of dating,” and upset with her family. I needed to change her focus to find success.
“Would you like to dance?”
“There’s no dance floor.”
I stepped into her, “There is now.”
She smiled again and I put my arms around her. Steve and I took a few turns dancing with her before he left. After he was gone, she and I began to kiss. Her name was Lisa. Soon the bar began to close. I walked Lisa outside. She did not say goodbye to the big guy, who had since been ditched by the trixie.
I wanted Lisa. She stirred me up and I found her to be a breath of fresh air from the trixies saturating the bars I had been to recently. When we got outside, she immediately hailed a cab. I figured she’d jump in with a quick blurb that it was nice to meet me and drive away. Instead, she opened the cab door and looked at me, “So, are we going back to your place or mine?”
Wow, what a wonderful surprise! I lived closer, so we headed to my place.
Cab drivers probably make their most money picking up a couple headed for a one-night stand. I gave him twenty dollars for an eight-dollar ride and we got out of the cab. A guy on the verge of getting lucky doesn’t want to wait for change. That’s just more time for the woman to change her mind. He wants the cab gone as soon as possible, before the girl has a change of heart and decides to take the cab home. Guys about to have one-night stands make for big tips.
Inside my place things got busy pretty fast. We sat on the futon, where I removed Lisa’s shirt and pants as we made out. She was wearing a sexy black thong and black bra. After a while I went for the bra. She pushed me away and instead tore off my clothes. She was really into biting. She took hard bites at little pieces of skin on my chest, followed by great big bites of chunks of skin. I literally thought she was going bite my nipples off. It was quite painful. She went down on me. My immediate fear was that she would bite me down there, too. (She didn’t, thank goodness.) Something told me this was as far as it was going to go—a blowjob. I wanted more, so I had to make a move.
I stopped her from sucking on me (there’s something a guy doesn’t do often), and went back to trying to remove her lingerie. The bra came off easily but when I tried to remove the panties, she held them on by the waistband. I licked her crotch. I had found this to be a good way to get panties off when women hesitated to remove them. It worked like a charm. She gasped and let go of the waistband. I slid the panties off her. I was very glad I did. She had the best shave job I’ve ever seen. Her bush was this perfect, little narrow triangle, not too big, not too small. She was a natural redhead. I rolled her over and bit her sweet ass for a while, then rolled her onto her back. Her butt was pretty mushy upon touch, which was a little disappointing but I managed to cope. I slipped a condom on and prepared to enter. She suddenly went limp. Her eyes closed and she lay absolutely still.
“Lisa? Lisa? Are you okay?” I whispered.
She nodded and muttered.
“Do you want me inside you?”
She nodded again and muttered. She was clearly out of it, or faking, angry that I had removed her panties under false pretense. It could also have been the alcohol and work stress that suddenly gave her fatigue. She lay there, practically asleep. I thought about it. She was right there, lying naked before me. She wanted me inside her and I seriously thought about it. It would have been so very easy. My faculties weren’t one hundred percent either, as I’d had lots to drink myself. I rubbed against her to see if that would bring some life into her. She murmured as though she were in a dream, “Mmm. That feels good.”
I pushed in just the top of the tip. Nothing. I backed away. She wasn’t kissing back, she wasn’t moving; she wasn’t doing anything. Is this date rape? I loomed over her for a good ten minutes, trying to make up my mind if I wanted to do her or not. She was so beautiful, lying there naked. Also, I had to pee badly, which is impossible while sporting wood, so I needed to finish to take care of that.
I decided that it would be inappropriate and for the first time I could see how a guy could do such a thing under certain conditions. The idea of banging a girl lying dormant held little interest to me. The idea of doing Lisa lying there completely naked in front of me—with a little more than a handful of perky tits and the best shave job I’ve seen—held lots of interest to me. I debated another ten minutes. A battle of will and hormones was raging and will was on the verge of defeat. Finally, though, I acknowledged that I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. I pulled the futon away from the wall and opened it. I took off my condom, to help keep the hormones from resurging a more effective assault, and lay down beside her.
I watched her sleep most of the night. When it got cold, I threw a blanket over us and cuddled up against her. She was responsive and cuddled back. Every now and then I removed the blanket to look at her some more, then replaced it. I didn’t take care of my pee problem. I was afraid that if I solved the dilemma on my own, she would wake up and want to fuck. I’d have wasted a great boner, which would have been a huge disappointment to me and my hormones.
I spent about eight hours with a full erection, much longer than the suggested length Viagra warns about in its commercials. I didn’t know such a thing was possible. I couldn’t sleep, what with the naked woman beside me and my current state of excitement. I suppose I could have left her and gotten into my own bed but that didn’t even occur to me at the time. When lying next to a beautiful naked woman, not much occurs to a guy. Even if it had, getting into my own bed would have seemed like wasting a perfectly promising nude woman and no guy is going to do that.
So I lay there, for eight hours, in erotic discomfort. It was torture. God was doing some of Her best work on me. She knew I wouldn’t take care of business myself and She had made me drink all those beers to fill up my bladder. Then She knocked out the naked woman, leaving me in a frenzied state. That Bitch! Lisa woke up in the late morning with a raging migraine. I assured her we had not had sex.
“You know, you could have. I wanted to, but I think I’m glad you didn’t.”
“I don’t think it would have been any good for me with you just lying there. Sex to me is kind of an everybody-participates sport.”
I walked her out and waited for her to get into a cab. I hurried back home and took care of unfinished business. After that, I took the most satisfying pee of my life. Aaah!
I learned three things from Lisa:
· Any guy can end up in a position to date-rape someone.
· Be gentler with women’s nipples.
· There is a right way to pick up the bitter babe.
I never imagined that I would ever be in a position to date-rape someone. I was that night, though, and it took every bit of discipline I had to restrain myself. Hormones are extremely powerful, especially when they travel in groups numbering over three times the normal amount. There are different types of date rape. One type is exactly what it’s called, the rape of a woman by her date. Another type is the one I faced. It’s the type of rape where a woman no longer has the faculties to consent, usually because she’s drunk.
I think this type of date rape is quite a double standard. If a guy and girl are both drunk off their asses and they have sex, she may not be held accountable for her actions, while he could be charged with rape. If a woman isn’t responsible for consenting to sex because she is drunk, how can a guy be responsible for engaging in sex if he is drunk, too? Realistically, I don’t know how many of these cases are tried. Fortunately for both men and women, there is a naturally built-in safety switch: A guy too drunk to think clearly is almost always too drunk to get aroused.
Prior to my night with Lisa, my idea of date rape was a scenario in which the woman is drunk and the man is sober. In such a scenario, clearly the man is abusing the woman. I quickly dismissed this misconception when I found myself sprawled over a nearly passed-out woman, thinking Oh my God, this is date rape. It’s far more likely that both the guy and girl are drunk. Date rape is another good reason to stay away from drunken women. If a guy is inebriated and takes a drunken woman home, he is likely to engage in sex with her. He could be charged with date rape. Just like drunken women who go home with strangers, this guy has put himself in the unwise position of being unsafe. The best play for him is not to take her home in the first place.
I’ve been tough on some women’s nipples. After nearly having mine ripped off in a set of gnashing teeth, I learned to be gentler with nipples—not too gentle, because that’s no good either—but definitely gentler.
The bitter babe is tricky to pick up and can be a lot of work if approached incorrectly. She is worth the time, though, as usually she is not in the mood to play games, so a guy can refreshingly be straightforward. I actually learned how to hook up with bitter babes prior to meeting Lisa, but since I was successful in those stories, they have no business in this book. The quandary with the bitter babe is two-fold. First, she can be any type of woman, which needs to be determined to have a chance with her. Second, she is skeptical and critical of men. She needs to be approached carefully.
I like showing the bitter babe a good time. I feel like I am giving her some things she really needs, namely some good treatment, sex, and respect. Bitter women are mostly bitter because they have been dissed a lot, they feel disrespected. There are often times, though, when I pass bitter women over because I just don’t have the desire to sit still for a long time or have the patience to deal with their bitterness. They can be a lot of work and take much energy.
The best way to approach a bitter babe is not to approach her. Let her observe. Watch how she responds. If she keeps looking over, she is intrigued and interested. She can’t figure out the behavior and that piques her interest. Go over and talk to her. If a guy doesn’t behave the way a bitter woman expects him to behave (in short, if he doesn’t behave like a guy), he may have a chance with her. Bitter babes aren’t looking for a male; they’re looking for an anti-male. I have the bite marks to prove it.

Less Government

2008-08-28T11:03:00.001-07:00

As the big day approaches, I became engrossed in a conversation the other day about how Republicans want less government. I've heard this naive statement many times. In reality, it is the ideas of Republicans that lead to more government. For example, take equity vs. equality. Equity means everyone is given an equal starting point; equality means you have the same rights but not the same rights to the same start. In short, everyone has a right to education but not to an equal education. If an inner city school doesn't have enough books for all their students while a burb school has a surplus, who cares? Equality we have in the U.S.; equity we don't.

Anit-equity is pushed by Republicans. You must work hard for your money and prove yourself. (Unless you're a big corporation and then the government will bail you out of your mistakes. Hmm.) Does that create more or less government? A hell of a lot more. Lack of equity in education leads to more prisons, more taxes to pay for said prisons, more welfare, more taxes to pay for said welfare, more government to monitor and run all these programs, more childcare for parents who can't take care of their kids, more government to monitor children, foster parents, and so forth. If we had basic equity in education to begin with (that's one of the few places where you really need it), all that government goes away. It's easy for someone to say they create less government but look carefully to see the truth; as voters, that's our job. And, unfortunately, most of us fail to do it.

Summer in Chicago

2008-08-22T15:46:00.001-07:00

I know, I know; I'm way behind on posts. And one still won't be up today. Sorry but it's summer in Chicago and, well, I've been living it up. I just got a bike the other day and have been riding it around, writing a bunch of junk, and actually cleaned my place. (First time in over two years.) I will put up two posts next week, the friend's one earlier in the week. Deal w/it.

Does Having a Book Change You? Bernie Mac's View on Change

2008-08-11T21:38:00.000-07:00

I get this question a lot. I think it really depends on the author and the success of the book. For me, I haven’t changed at all. For guys like the Waiter, whose book has much more media and success than my own, it hasn’t changed him. That’s a testament to his strong character and sincerity.

That’s not to say that having a book hasn’t changed my life; it has. Given the subject, it has changed dating, of course. I like the girl-next-door-types; the book tends to scare them off, while attracting the more trixie-types, who I tend not to prefer. I knew this would happen, so I was prepared. It’s still, tough, though.

Mostly, having a book changes some of the people around me. Some friends feel a need to introduce me with my book-credit (”This is Ian, he wrote a really funny book”), while others keep asking me when the sequel will be written. The friend it changed the most was Cheryl (name changed to protect her identity).

I met Cheryl on New Year’s Eve at a bar called The Avenue several years ago. She had beautiful eyes and a warm smile, so I liked her, instantly. My friends and I hung out with her and her friends for most of the night. Her boyfriend was not at the party, as he was working. I got her digits before she left. We started to swap a lot of emails and got together for several dinners. I told her if she wasn’t dating someone, I would definitely be interested. (Working to steal women away from their boyfriends is immature and lame.) I didn’t like her boyfriend, though, as he spent little time with her. It seemed more like he was keeping her on the line rather than a real relationship. A few times it felt like we could get something going but she was true to her boyfriend and stuck to remaining friends with me. While I enjoyed seeing her and even having her sub occassionally for volleyball (she was only an intermediate player but the level of fun and personality she brought to the team more than made up for any lack of skill), I mostly looked forward to our conversations. Cheryl was intelligent and interesting; unafraid to speak her mind and personable. I had the feeling that she kind of wanted me to push her into having something happen; that if I did, I would be the reason for a break-up with her boyfriend. She didn’t really want to be responsible. That’s not how I want to start to date someone, so I didn’t push or pursue. In short, once I spoke my mind, I respected the friendship and had no problems with it.

If Cheryl had one flaw, it was her breasts. I don’t mean her breasts themselves, I mean her view of her breasts. She thought they were important but they weren’t. She would reference their small size in jokes from time to time. Personally, as I mention repeatedly in God, I am a butt man. Cheryl had a great ass, a nice bonus to everything else about her. When I wrote the first two chapters of God, I wanted to get some female feedback. I wanted women who I knew would tell me their thoughts; who wouldn’t sugarcoat anything. Cheryl was one of the women I asked. She gladly accepted. The first story deals with a woman who had an amazing pair of breasts. While Cheryl seemed to like the humor and candidness, after she read it, she became convinced that I was a breast man. “You’re definitely a breast man.” I repeatedly told her otherwise but she refused to believe me. There was a strong disappointment in her voice. This confirmed to me that she had an interest beyond mere friendship.

Soon after, Cheryl vanished. She stopped emailing or returning calls. No more dinners. No more great conversations. Fearing she thought I was a creep based on the first two stories, I sent her the rest of the manuscript when it was done, including the last couple chapters where I realize what an ass I had become and made changes, finding my balance. Still no reply. To this day I miss our conversations. Again, her vanishing act served to confirm my suspiscion that she had more than an interest in friendship–if she wasn’t interested, she wouldn’t care what kind of breasts I liked.

I have not spoken with Cheryl since the book was released, over a year ago. I still miss our conversations. I’ve never met anyone quite like her. I still include her in emails to my friends about doing dinner or getting together for a movie, and so forth. Why bother? Another comedian gave me some great advice once: He said, “Never change anything about yourself for anyone unless you love them and they love you.” He was Bernie Mac and as you probably know, he died this past Saturday at age 50. His early demise is a reminder of the amount of time we waste on silly things, like a lack of communication or stupid misunderstandings or allowing others to change us when we really don’t want to change. Cheryl is a great example. If she had just believed me or told me what was really bothering her, we could have easily fixed it; instead, we both lose out on a good friendship–that might have been more when the timing became right. For what? For nothing that has any substance or real meaning.

So, unless Cheryl emails me to please stop including her on emails, I will continue to include her. I can’t control how anyone else lives their life but I can control how I live mine. Remember, the only person you have to live with is yourself. You have to be true to who you are; don’t let anyone change you unless you both love each other. (In which case you probably won’t want to change each other… at least not much.) Thanks Bernie; good stuff.

Bernie Mac

2008-08-11T10:23:00.001-07:00

Not much to say except he was a really good guy; I met him a few times. His death is a reminder that life really is short and vulnerable. Remember that as you live. Bernie taught us all to live life to the fullest. Good advice.

Like Animals?

2008-07-31T09:32:00.001-07:00

Just got back from Yellowstone. I promised you pictures, so here ya go. I took more video this time (bought a camcorder) and will post here when I get those up on YouTube, which will be a while... I have to learn how to edit the video footage, first. Got some great video, though--grizzly eating a deer, bear cub playing, a big grizzly chasing a smaller grizzly, bull moose blocking on our hiking trail--all of it shot within 20-200 yards. Great stuff! If you haven't been to Yellowstone, what are you waiting for? It's awesome! My only regret this trip was that I was not quick enough to get my equipment out to film a pack of wolves chasing down a herd of approximately 40 elk. That's right; we saw an actual wolf hunt, a mere 150 yards off the road. Unbelieveable and a rare sight. Get out there while it still exists!

My nephew is just too cool for Yellowstone.

Sometimes the only way to punish a kid is to drown him... just a little bit.

Nice waterfalls all over Yellowstone.

My nephew in his not-so-cool "safari gear;" he makes it work, though, don't you think? Look for it in catalogs this fall.

Some pronghorn, the only antelope in North America and the fastest animal here, with speeds over 5o mph.

The Grand Tetons, just south of Yellowstone, exist at the end of the rainbow.

Time to reflect a little...

4500 total miles on the trip... you have to do something to keep from throwing up and sticking your head out the window most of the journey is the best medicine!

A grizzly 50 yards off the road, eating a roadkill deer he dragged there. Caused miles upon miles of backed up traffic and we were lucky enough to be right at the front.

You should never swim in mountain lakes; it's a warning in all the literature. You can get hypothermia in minutes, sometimes even less, even in the summer. What? Me? Oh, I'm Canadian, too, so I'm just fine. This is like warm bathwater for me and if the American part of me gets cold, I just pee... Enjoy that bottled water from the mountains you're drinking...

This moose was like 25 yards away from us on a trail we hiked. We almost didn't see him. Fortunately, we did and we just watched him while he took his sweet time foraging and moving on; he actually blocked the trail for a while. A moose is the worst animal you can run into in the woods, even more so than a grizzly or cougar. Moose don't run, they stand and fight and are highly unpredictable, unlike cougars, who will most likely run and bears, who will most likely amble away, unless you are an idiot who surprised them or inspected a carcass they are eating. Fortunately, my nephew was too cool for this moose to mess with.

More moose.

For those of you who want some scenary... I tend to just take animal shots now, as I have all the scenic shots from previous trips.

A black bear.

The chef enjoys his breakfast. Just FYI, 11-year-olds make great Shirpas...

A coyote stops to check us out.

That same grizzly eats by the side of the road, on the beach. You can see the deer carcass just behind his paw.

A more traditional looking grizzly. This guy got chased by a bigger bear a few minutes after this was taken, a mere 3o yards in front of us! (We were across the road and they were on a twenty foot rise.)

Some kind of bird or something; anyone recognize it...?

Same grizzly eating off the road. He headed over for a drink to help wash down some of his meal.

Bighorn with a lamb.

After this was taken, my nephew and I wrestled the bison to the ground; we were a little bored.

Some bison after crossing a river then ambling along the road at night. Bison are starting to congregate in larger and larger numbers, as the re-introduced wolf population surges. At first, the wolves rarely went after bison, as elk are easier prey and plentiful; however, as wolves grow in number, the weaker packs are pushed into the prairies, where they are forced to learn to hunt bison or starve. Ironically, it is the weaker wolves that hunt the bison and in some cases, they gain confidence and strength, returing to elk territory, where they chase the pack away that once chased them away. An intriguing cycle. The bison can defend themselves better in large groups but then have to compete more for food. As always in life, it is a double-sided coin...

Trust me, go to Yellowstone. You can stay in cabins, hotels, camp, whatever; plenty of places to eat in the summer and so forth. It's so big, it doesn't feel crowded, even in the peak season of July. I guarantee you'll see elk and bison. Other animals, it's up to you. Moose are rare to see but we've had good luck; seen some every trip but one. (Grand Tetons are good for moose.) Cougar are nearly impossible; we had one roaming around a campground and never saw the freaking thing. Doh! (One was shot and killed in Chicago, only a neighborhood away from where I live, several months ago! Again... doh!) Grizzlies can be seen if you hit the right places in the early morning and evening, although still uncommon. Black bears are uncommon, too, and I've only seen one at Yellowstone... until this trip, where we saw like 10, including some cubs! Pronghorn are usually seen at least once, while bighorn are rarer. For eagles, it's all about reading the literature and going where it advises. Coyotes are common, wolves are rare (hate people), and foxes are extremely rare to see. (I know! Foxes?! Rare?!) We watched one hunt last summer and didn't realize how lucky we were until this trip. Get out there and have fun! Share your photos with me, though, 'kay? Thanks.

Yellowstone

2008-07-14T22:27:00.000-07:00

Heading to Yellowstone for a while. Will post some pictures when I get back. Cheers!

Big Bahls Done

2008-06-26T19:11:00.000-07:00

The script is officially done! I completed the changes a few days ago and production is set to begin on August 1st. Keep your fingers crossed...

Also, I signed the contract for saveinheritance.com's article today. The coverage will take place Spring '09 and we will reach 100's of millions of people, so I'm pleased. Hopefully, we'll kill this theft epidemic for everyone.

Inheritance Story Receives Interest of Major Media Outlet

2008-06-19T15:25:00.001-07:00

Today I was graciously invited to prepare the story from www.saveinheritance.com and advice for a major media outlet. I was happy to accept. We will reach tens of millions of people, and more likely hundreds of millions (counting their site and traditional media outlets). It is very likely that their coverage will blow this epidemic wide open. This is great news because it will protect countless people, their inheritances, and thus their futures.

They would like to include some more people who have had similar experiences, as additional evidence of how great the problem is. I am accepting your stories until July 15. So, if you want to share your story and be part of the media coverage, email it to me @ iancoburn@hotmail.com. I'll see if I can get you included. (If you've signed a non-disclosure agreement, I will not be able to use your story.) Thanks in advance for sharing your story and helping out potential future victims.

Big Bahls

2008-06-13T13:55:00.000-07:00

I just finished the script today. I won't comment on its quality, yet; my opinion doesn't really matter. The question is, will the producers like it? We shall see... a re-write of some sort will be needed, certainly. Have a good wknd, everyone.

Media Discusses Dems -- What A Joke!

2008-06-03T15:39:00.000-07:00

Obama is in; congrats to him. I hope he is able to win in Autumn and get a lot of experience between now and then... We'll see what happens in the South, where his opponent started running commercials about his church last week. He may walk around speaking about change and all that, but will that carry enough weight in the racist Bible Belt, the place that seems to determine the Presidency? In the end, it all really depends on Bush. If something drastic happens, like a huge drop in gas prices or a resolution in Iraq, Obama may not stand a chance. If, however, we "stay the course" or worse, invade Iran or something, he stands a good chance, providing people can actually clearly see the issues, which is tough when you look at everything via racist goggles.

As for the media, they are discussing what Obama and Clinton did wrong and right. Please, what a fucking joke! Obama and Clinton owe everything to the media. Period. I said it before and I'll say it again, if Edwards' wife had died during the election, he'd be the candidate because he would have gotten all the free media attention. I still believe Edwards was the best option but he just couldn't compete w/all that free media Clinton and Obama got. Too bad; it seems more and more the media and $ determine the Presidential candidates. Pretty scary.

In the Cave

2008-05-29T10:08:00.000-07:00

I'm kind of going into a cave right now to work on a screenplay I've been hired to write. Having a lot of fun and it should be quite funny; think Airplane and The Naked Gun. It's called Big Bahls and you can check out the details here: http://www.bigbahls.com/. I'll update the blog as often as possible; "Lunch is Not a Date" will be updated weekly, as always.

Men are "Jerks;" Women are "Bitches"

2008-05-22T17:57:00.000-07:00

(An advance look at next week's "Lunch is Not a Date" column)

We hear it all the time. “Men are just jerks” and “Women are bitches.” Whenever guys don’t behave the way a woman wants, she or her friends almost always dismiss the guy as “being a jerk.” When a woman doesn’t do what a guy wants, she is a “bitch.” Is it true? Are most of us men “just jerks?” Are women “bitches?” Mostly, no we’re not; the problem is simply a matter of perspective. Ninety percent of the problems in the dating and relationship world stem from failing to consider the other gender’s perspective. And little “expert” advice encourages us to do so.

For all you women who experience this, and there are a lot, pay attention: You meet a guy. He says he isn’t interested in dating anyone. You have a good conversation. He asks for your number. You give it to him. He calls a few times. You have a few dinners. You end up in bed together. This goes on for a while, then after a month or two you start talking about your relationship and he bails after retorting, “I told you I wasn’t interested in dating anyone.” What a jerk! Ah, nope, afraid not; instead of dismissing him as being a jerk, consider his perspective. He tells you upfront he doesn’t want to date anyone. Later, he asks for your digits. You give him your number. In his mind you just told him you are cool with some potential simple slap and tickle. He didn’t lie to you, he didn’t mislead you; he told you exactly where he stands. I know in your head you might be thinking, “Oh, he asked for my number because I am starting to get him interested in dating… now he’s calling… now he’s asking me to dinner… he’s getting more and more interested.” Nope, he’s getting closer to the slap and tickle. If you don’t want that, when a guy says he isn’t interested in dating anyone and later asks for your digits, simply respond, “Thanks but you said you weren’t interested in dating anyone, so I’m gonna pass.” It’s a no-brainer when you consider his perspective.

If you start to consider the other sex’s perspective, you’ll quickly see that we are “not jerks” and “bitches.” For example, a lot of times we men don’t call after sex because you lied and we lost interest. The woman who had green eyes, a 36-C cup, a tight ass, and I didn’t know smoked when we left the bar, just came out of my bathroom naked with brown eyes, a pair of double A’s, a fat butt, and a cigarette dangling from her mouth, now that she had removed her colored contacts, extreme push up bra, and three sizes too tight pair of jeans. We still sleep with you on the spot because… well, it would be rude not to. But don’t expect a call from us, ever. You’re the one who misled us, not the other way around.

Flipping it on its ear, a lot of guys call women “bitches” because when they approach these women and say something witty like, “My friend wants to meet you,” the women tell them they are “lame.” How rude of them. Again, consider the woman’s perspective. She and her friends take time to decide where they are going to go to meet guys. They get dressed up. They carefully choose between a dozen different pairs of earrings, several skirts, and thirty different shoes. In short, they put effort into going out and drawing attention. They want guys who approach to show some effort with some original ice-breakers and to be confident. “My friend wants to meet you?” Ooh, how clever and original, plus your friend sounds like a real confident man, sending you over to talk to women he likes. Score! Sorry to piss on your wet dream but she’s not a “bitch;” she just doesn’t want you cock blocking the guys she wants to meet and that’s totally fair.

Or maybe you buy a woman drinks all night, so you think she owes you her time, attention, and maybe more; please, like you wouldn’t turn down a free drink. She’s not a “bitch” for taking your drinks and then not giving you any action; she’s smart and thrifty.
The more attention you give the other gender’s perspective, the better you’ll relate and the more success you’ll have with whatever it is you’re after—dating, marriage, sex, increasing your Beanie Babies collection, getting a good reference for a job, whatever. And guess what? Dating and meeting people actually becomes fun, instead of a chore.

Blog Radio Tonight!

2008-05-15T08:59:00.000-07:00

I will be on blog talk radio Upfront & Straightforward with Alan Roger Currie tonight starting at 9pm CST. The show runs for an hour, give or take a few. I will appear beginning at about 9:15 but you should listen to the whole show to get the most information and entertainment.

http://blogtalkradio.modeone.net/ is the link for more information and to find out where to hear the show in your area.

Thanks for listening!

Astute Observation by Tucker Max

2008-05-10T00:08:00.000-07:00

This is an astute observation Tucker Max wrote the other day on his blog about his film project; they are words of wisdom worth heeding:

http://ihopetheyservebeerinhell.com/archives/post_1.html

My reply:

Very astute, Tucker. A lot of people never get this. When I toured hard as a standup I almost missed it myself. If you’re both lucky and tenacious, one day something you start as a simple hobby becomes a job. As soon as something becomes a job, it becomes very easy to overlook the fact that you have one of the coolest jobs that exists. A lot of people would kill to have the same job. You forget these things because your priorities change—you have to pay your bills, you have to keep getting work, you have to keep the job, and there’s a shit load of competition. I forgot this myself until I met a guy playing volleyball one night. He found out what I did from someone else and came up to me, “Dude, you fucking piss me off. I’m so pissed off.”

I had never spoken a word to this guy, so I was more than I little perplexed and braced myself for a possible fight. “How’s that?”

“I pride myself on having the fucking coolest job. I work for the FBI. I’ve worked there for over five years, I get to make up names and go undercover and all that cool shit. I always ask what people do right away because no one ever has a cooler job than me. Until now. You’re a standup comedian and that is the coolest fucking job.”

I had forgotten that; I had forgotten how lucky I felt when I got my first paying gig. After hearing his insight, I made a point of just relaxing and remembering how fortunate I was from time to time. Like you point out, though, the show has to go on; every now and then I would listen to myself during the act and hear what I was actually saying. (Most of the time you’re just in autopilot, telling your bits and ad libbing where needed.) I would smile and have to hold back a laugh; if I listened to what I was saying too much, I would lose my train of thought and the show would fall apart. It’s very ironic.

Now that I’m off the road, people ask me if I miss it and will be going back. “Nope, because I don’t want to do it full-time anymore. I enjoy being able to hang out Saturday night and meet the women I want to meet or to be in town and play volleyball on the beach all day. Trying to work the road occasionally as a standup would be like a crack head trying to take just an occasional hit or an alcoholic having an occasional drink. It can’t be done in my case. I’d be sucked back in full-time; it’s my tenacious nature and the high of being on stage.”

How do I cope? There’s always another way. I re-live my comedy stories from the road in a book. And there’s plenty more where that came from. I get to relax, take the jobs I want and enjoy my freedom writing scripts for hire and working on my own stuff. When big opportunities arise, I won’t have time to savor my freedom and good fortune, so I savor it in moments like this, when things are a little quieter.

I think you are doing the best thing you can do to appreciate the success and good fortune your hard work is bringing you… you’re writing about it. It will keep you appreciating it every time you make an entry, even when it is a chore to take the time and write an entry after a long day or week of work.

BTW, I just discovered these posts and they rock; I’m gathering a lot of useful info on production, something I intend to do at some point myself, for the same reason as you: to keep an idea intact and true. As always, thanks for sharing your experiences and knowledge.

McCain Takes a Step Closer to Presidency

2008-05-07T09:26:00.000-07:00

I have been blogging more about politics lately, obviously because of the primary process and because of the importance. Do you realize that if the dems followed the repubs procedure, Hilary would have been the candidate a while ago?

The system is so stupid I can't believe. I just can't believe it. And I hope the superdelegates are truly super in that they consider the stupidity and misrepresentation the system causes, and then vote accordingly. For example, compare last night's election results:

In Indiana, everyone was allowed to vote--Dem, Repub, Indy, whomever. In North Carolina, only registered Dems could vote. Okay... there was a strong turnout in both states, but in NC, the majority of the state did not vote. In IN, a majority did turnout and they barely chose Hilary as the winner. Obama keeps winning the black vote, most of who tend to be dems. Okay, again... blacks make up about 13% of the entire population. He's winning their votes in a lot of states that only let dems vote in their primaries and where many of the whites, a much larger population, are registered repubs. Why the hell does anyone get excited about such victories? They mean nothing.

Hispanics, now the largest minority population in the U.S., lean toward Hilary. Many of the states Obama wins vote overwhelmingly Republican in general elections (see the map at http://www-personal.umich.edu/~mejn/election/). Hilary has won the large states and looks to win Texas in a general election, an important swing state, because of her favor among hispanics and blue collar white men. She looks to win Ohio for the same reason--favor among blue collar white men. In Florida, she would most likely win in the general election. Finally, the majority of our population is women; and, black, white, or hispanic, many will be inclined to vote for a woman; as opposed to whites and hispanics, who won't be inclined to vote for a black.

Obama is also open to more attack by McCain in the general election and McCain is already gearing up for that attack. Hilary winning would be a surprise tactic that would catch McCain off-guard and cause him to have to take time to regroup.

Other Candidate's Ministers?

2008-05-05T10:15:00.001-07:00

Obama is taking a heavy hit about his former minister in the media, even still. What about these conservative evangelical ministers that back up candidates? They hate everyone who doesn't do exactly as they prescribe. Why doesn't the media highlight their hateful sermons? Why doesn't Obama point out that hypocrisy? Very poor journalism.

Better Late than Never...

2008-04-27T13:51:00.000-07:00

I promised a new standup story months ago. Finally, here it is, also posted to my site at www.iancoburn.com/standupstories.html. Read how I helped a guy train for the Olympics.

The gig was a long weekend (Thursday through Sunday) in Grand Forks, North Dakota, at the Comedy Gallery, which was actually inside the hotel at which the acts stayed. All I really remember about the club these days--even though I played it severalt times--is that the hotel had a pool in the shape of a boot. It was in the height of summer and believe it or not, even then there's not much going on in Grand Forks. Shocking, I know.

I was the feature and the headliner was a comedienne out of Florida named Monique (not to be confused with Mo'Nique). By Saturday morning we were bored out of our minds. Her boyfriend, along to see the exciting sites of Grand Forks, was training for the Olympics as a speedskater. He asked if I could help him out Saturday morning; he wanted to video tape himself skating so that he could check his technique. Normally, I wouldn't get up on a Saturday before noon (or any day, for that matter) but like I said, we were bored out of our minds. So I agreed.

Saturday morning we got up and Monique's boyfriend--we'll call him Eric since I can't remember his name--showed me his "summer" skates, used to train in the off-season. I was expecting roller skates but instead, he showed me solid black skates that had one set of extremely narrow wheels. No doubt these skates were the predecessors to the popular roller blades that came along several years later. The wheels on his skates, though, were far narrower than those on roller blades.

Eric's idea was simple--Monique would drive their van down a country road. I would sit in the back with the doors open and video tape his stride and feet as he skated hard behind us. Sounded easy enough. Once I made certain Eric realized I was not George Lucas, we took off in search of a country road, which consisted of driving about one mile.

We drove several miles down the empty road, which passed a dozen farms. "This is good," announced Eric.

We stopped and opened the backdoors of the van. Eric showed me how to work the camera. I didn't pay much attention; I was more concerned with figuring out how I was going to keep from falling out of the back of the van. My balance would be all fucked up as I focused on video taping, zooming in on his legs and feet. "You take off and then I'll come after ya."

Monique turned the van around and started back down the several miles of country road with which we were now familiar. At first, everything went well. Eric kept a nice easy pace and I was able to monitor him. "All right, let's kick into gear!" he yelled.

Monique hit the gas and Eric came screaming after us. He was freaking fast, man, and took huge, powerful strides. That's when I heard the first dog bark. Then another. Then another. The barking got closer and closer.

"Do you hear those dogs?"

"I don't hear anything," replied Monique.

"Huh. I could swear I heard some dogs barking close by."

As I video taped Eric's feet, I decided to zoom out for his legs. I zoomed out too far and ended up getting a good look behind Eric. Four big dogs were tearing down the road behind him, gaining ground quickly. As I yelled a warning to him, about eight more dogs joined the hunt, tearing out from the farms we were passing. In case your math sucks, twelve large farm dogs of various breeds were now barreling down on Eric.

He was now aware of them and yelled to Monique, "Slow down! I need to get in the van!"

Monique misunderstood and hit the gas. I yelled to her, "No, no! He said slow down!"

She kept her foot on the gas and I watched as Eric became a dot in the distance. He was screaming like a banshee. Finally, Monique realized what was going on and made Uey. We returned to find Eric fighting for his life in the middle of the pack of dogs, barking and jumping at him, with their teeth nashing. He was using all his strength to stay on his feet. If he went down, he would become a human chew toy.

We honked at the dogs and scattered them by driving into the pack. Eric, somewhat bloodied and shaken, with his speedskating uniform ripped in numerous places, jumped into the back of the van just as the dogs regrouped and came after him, again. We zipped away with dogs running after us for about a mile before they finally gave up and returned home.

"I didn't know they used dogs in speedskating. Is that a new thing for this year?"

Eric just shook his head and smiled. "I can't fucking wait for winter."

"Oh, let me know when you start your winter training. I can ride on the sled as the dogs chase you from behind and get some good footage of your stride from behind."

He didn't speak to me again the rest of the gig.

Democratic Party Needs New Format

2008-04-23T11:58:00.000-07:00

Hilary's win yesterday in Penn keeps the race ongoing. No shocker there. What amuses me is that the dem leaders cry out that the candidates are hurting each other and the party's cause. Hmm. Perhaps the problem isn't with the candidates but rather with the party's caucus format. Perhaps it is best to use the repub approach--a "winner take all" format, as opposed to ridiculously divvying up the delegates after each election. I wonder if Hilary would still be behind if the dems did use that format, seeing as how she has won every large state with the exception of Illinois.

Born Before 1980

2008-04-21T08:29:00.000-07:00

This was fwded to me in an email. I normally don't fwd such things but this one made some really good points, so I decided to post it here.

TO ALL THE KIDS WHO WERE BORN IN THE
1930's 40's, 50's, 60's and 70's !!First, we survived being born to mothers who smoked and/or drank while they carried us.

They took aspirin, ate blue cheese dressing, tuna from a can, and didn't get tested for diabetes.

Then after that trauma, our baby cribs were covered with bright colored lead-based paints.

We had no childproof lids on medicine bottles, doors or cabinets and when we rode our bikes, we had no helmets, not to mention, the risks we took hitchhiking.

As children, we would ride in cars with no seat belts or air bags.

Riding in the back of a pick up on a warm day was always a special treat.

We drank water from the garden hose and NOT from a bottle.

We shared one soft drink with four friends, from one bottle and NO ONE actually died from this.

We ate cupcakes, white bread and real butter and drank soda pop with sugar in it, but we weren't overweight because......

WE WERE ALWAYS OUTSIDE PLAYING!!

We would leave home in the morning and play all day, as long as we were back when the streetlights came on.

No one was able to reach us all day. And we were O.K.

We would spend hours building our go-carts out of scraps and then ride down the hill, only to find out we forgot the brakes. After running into the bushes a few times, we learned to solve the problem.

We did not have Playstations, Nintendo's, X-boxes, no video games at all, no 99 channels on cable, no video tape movies, no surround sound, no cell phones, no personal computers, no Internet or Internet chat rooms..........WE HAD FRIENDS and we went outside and found them!

We fell out of trees, got cut, broke bones and teeth and there were nolawsuits from these accidents.

We ate worms and mud pies made from dirt, and the worms did not live in us forever.

We were given BB guns for our 10th birthdays,made up games with sticks and tennis balls and although we were told it would happen, we did not put out very many eyes.
We rode bikes or walked to a friend's house and knocked on the door or rang the bell, or just yelled for them!
Little League had tryouts and not everyone made the team. Those who didn't had to learn to deal with disappointment. Imagine that!!

The idea of a parent bailing us out if we broke the law was unheard of. They actually sided with the law!

This generation has produced some of the best risk!-takers, problem solvers and inventors ever!

The past 50 years have been an explosion of innovation and new ideas.

We had freedom, failure, success and responsibility, and we learned

HOW TODEAL WITH IT ALL!

And YOU are one of them! CONGRATULATIONS!

You might want to share this with others who have had the luck to grow up as kids, before the lawyers and the government regulated our lives for our own good.

And while you are at it, forward it to your kids so they will know how brave their parents were.

Kind of makes you want to run through the house with scissors, doesn't it?!

God Stuff and Where Have I Been?

2008-04-15T10:14:00.000-07:00

I've been working on getting my career going as a freelance writer and designer in all mediums--copywrite for everything from direct mail to commercials to brochures, web content writer, flash designer, website developer... check w/me for what I can (and can't) do!

I realize I never posted up pictures of the God items, or at least I don't think I did. or it's been too long since I did! At any rate, you can find more items at (and buy them here):

http://www.godisawoman.net/merchandise.html

I will be more diligent with posting and will be switching to video and audio formats more, simply because it's faster and easier on my fingers!

Project Finally Revealed

2008-04-06T13:32:00.001-07:00

I have been hinting for a while now about "a big project." Well, I finally got it up and running. Basically, my mom's inheritance appears to have been stolen after my stepfather died, by one of his best friends! I quickly learned that it happens all the time and is an ever growing problem. I want to bring attention to it to spare others the ordeal.

You can check the story out at http://www.saveinheritance.com. Please use it as a segue way to discuss the topic with your family, parents, grandparents, etc. You may very well be surprised to hear of their plans for their demise, and you may need to correct it; trust me. It's been absolutely awful. I can't even begin to describe it and my mother's pain.

Blown Up Cover of Russian Book

2008-03-31T08:58:00.000-07:00

Here is the image of the Russian version cover.

Russian Version of Book Debuting!!

2008-03-28T16:11:00.000-07:00

APRIL 1st. Mark your calendars! Especially if you know anyone who lives in Russia or CIS countries. I just got word that the Russian version of God is a Woman: Dating Disasters officially becomes available to the public on that day. I just got this photo of the book. Looks like they are playing the sex angle. Personally, I think it looks much better than the original book. It is hardcover, has a nice jacket, and they even hired an illustrator to design the cover. (As opposed to just taking a photo of my fridge...)

I'm excited about it! We'll see if any readers are; let's hope so and knock on wood, eh...?

Get Out Hillary? A Party Split? Let's Hope So!

2008-03-28T16:04:00.000-07:00

Some democrat leaders have been calling for Clinton to get out of the race because she can't win enough delegates to win. Um... it looks like Obama can't, either, though. Some Obama supporters claim they won't vote for Clinton and vice-versa. Could the party split? Could we finally have a 3rd strong party, which would push this country back into the democracy as intended by our forefathers and as existed until roughly the mid 60's?

No, a new party will not be formed. Too bad. With a new party, we might actually see this country become something it hasn't been in a while... the United States of America. Sometimes, though, wishful thinking is all that keeps me going when it comes to the government.

Unrealistic Advice

2008-03-20T15:30:00.000-07:00

Today I was a guest caller for a radio show. I won’t get into the details because they’re not important. I was queried to be on it and then when they contacted me, they didn’t want me on as an expert, they wanted me on as a caller. (I.e. the set up was on; I was a guy calling in as I listened to the show, not a guy who they called to be on the show.) I would have like to have debated with the host, as he had some interesting notions–some good, some bad–and it would have been an engaging, enlightening conversation for both us and listeners. That wasn’t the idea of the show, though.

The topic of the show was getting your boyfriend to marry you. The core of the host’s solution? All single women everywhere should stop having sex with guys, forcing them to marry to get the goods. Such a solution is pointless. One, it’s punishing yourself. Two, it will never happen. So, what’s the point? You got me. I guess it doesn’t solve anything and the host can blame you for his advice not working because you keep having sex. It’s a great way to defend your position and look like you have ample knowledge because even if one woman complains she stopped having sex and still can’t get a guy to marry her, the host can say, “Well, other women must be having sex still, so that’s why my advice isn’t working in; it’s not on me or the advice, it’s on other women.” And then you keep listening to the show.

The other issue is why is it a problem if you’re a woman and you don’t get married? Why is it necessary? If you want to get married and your boyfriend won’t marry you, break up. Don’t come up with ways to force him–again, the advice was pretty much stop sleeping with him. Walk away. If he wants to get married, he’ll come after you and ask. Anything less than that, tell him to stop calling and to go away. You want different things and it’s not a good idea to complicate such a relationship by manipulating the guy into marriage. Do you really think that will work out?

He doesn’t want to marry, you do, walk away. Period. If you find yourself getting unrealistic advice from a source, find a new source or at least consider a few other sources.

Where Have the Standup Stories Gone?

2008-03-14T15:54:00.000-07:00

I've had a couple emails asking me where my standup stories have gone. Just click "Sister Sites" on the menu bar to find 'em on any of my sites. The direct link:

http://www.iancoburn.com/standupstories.html

I'll be adding one next week and we'll keep you posted. It's about how I helped an olympian train in North Dakota...

Coming Soon...

2008-03-07T11:20:00.001-08:00

Working on something big; will keep you posted...

Keep Your Fingers Crossed...

2008-02-29T11:13:00.000-08:00

Got some pitches into some big publishers this week; keep your fingers crossed... That's it. What? I've been busy; deal w/it! ;)

Press Release

2008-02-24T11:25:00.000-08:00

I sent out the following press release Friday via my publisher, in hopes to get some media attention to this issue:

NIU Grad and Author Calls for New Approach to Campus Shootings and Pledges Book Sales to NIU Memorial Scholarship Fund

CHICAGO, Feb. 22 -- On February 14th, the anniversary of the official release date of his book "God is a Woman: Dating Disasters," comedian Ian Coburn prepared to celebrate the book's success. He then heard of the tragedy at his alma mater and wanted desperately to both offer support and bring attention to what he believes is the cause of these tragic shootings. Ian has pledged all personal earnings from book sales between February 14th through the end of March '08 to the NIU February 14th Memorial Scholarship Fund (several of the stories in the book take place at NIU and Ian hopes they will serve to remind us all of what a fun and great campus it is to attend). He asked that we release this statement on his behalf:

"I am drained from these shootings, the feeling of helplessness they bring, the fear they create which hangs over every campus like a dark cloud, and the net cast out for causes which always comes back empty of solutions. Instead, it is filled only with speculation, blaming everything from video games to guns to the lack of legally concealed firearms to mental illness to Godlessness to the Internet. Shooters share three traits: they are unhappy, they blame others for their unhappiness, and they don't know how to express or deal with their problems within socially acceptable norms. It's not just shootings among youth that's on the rise; it's drug use, alcoholism and violence in general. More and more, our children are growing up in a culture of irresponsibility and blame (as an educator I have witnessed this first- hand), and are being taught that their community is responsible for their unhappiness. They are not learning how to function properly in their community or how to deal with their shortcomings. Whatever we do, little ears are listening, little eyes watching, and little minds forming. If you lose the Presidential election, the other guy cheated; 26,000 Patriots fans are contesting the Super Bowl, blaming inaccurate timekeeping for the loss; when schools punish student misbehavior, parents intervene by threatening to sue and schools renege; the most influential Presidential candidate plagiarizes and shrugs it off; simple games like tag are being outlawed because some students aren't as skilled as others. The erroneous message is that you don't have to learn to function within your community; rather, the community will change to cater to your needs and whims. In an increasingly complex world we are robbing our children of the tools they need to cope. The battles I fought on the playground and in school built my character, enabled me to deal with my shortcomings, and prepared me to face the realities of life and disappointment, leading to my successes. It is our culture to where we need to turn our studies to find a solution to shootings. An exceptional response strategy is not the solution. NIU taught us that; they are to be commended on their strategy and quick response but even that proved ineffective to stop bloodshed. I don't know if this statement will make a difference or circulate; I only know that I had to make it."

Ian Coburn is available for interviews and additional thoughts on the subjects of school shootings and the topics of his book. You may learn more at www.godisawoman.net and contact him directly at iancoburn@hotmail.com or via Firefly Glow Publishing at 773-477-7528.

So far I haven't received any interest from the media but I have had a few bloggers re-post and contact me, a few listed below. So, hopefully word will spread and we will work toward solving the problem. We can't keep having people killed in these shootings but if we don't look at the real issue, it will continue to grow as a cultural problem.

http://libertyzone.blogspot.com/2008/02/how-to-function.html

http://therightrant.blogspot.com/2008/02/rare-saturday-post.html

Culture of Selfishness and Blame Responsible for Shootings Like NIU?

2008-02-17T22:33:00.001-08:00

I am an NIU grad, class of '94, and I'm drained. I'm drained from the most recent campus shooting--this time at my school; I'm drained from feeling helpless to do anything; I'm drained from feeling sad that what should be the best times in young peoples' lives is tainted by the dark cloud of a potential shooting--it menacingly hangs over every college and high school. And I'm drained from watching the dragnet searching for blame and speculation that is always cast out into society when a shooting occurs.

Jack Thompson blames video games. (I don't know who this guy is but as far as I know, there has been no evidence that Steven Kazmierczak, the shooter at NIU, played video games.) In a Chicago Tribune survey by Eric Zorn that asked readers to offer reasons for these shootings, one reader stated all acts of violence are done "by children or grandchildren of the 60's generation." Another blamed legal abortion because it sends a message that death is okay. Another blamed all increase in violence on the Internet. Another blamed discrimination and people being picked on by others. Finally, one blamed American men and asked, "What is wrong with American men?" Experts and part of the public blame guns, as well as the ease with which one can purchase illegal firearms. Other experts and a different cross-section of the public cite the inability of people to carry their own concealed firearms as the cause. Some blame mental illness.

Let's actually look for the potential cause; the common-denominators in all these shootings, shall we? Instead of just pulling stuff out of our asses. What do all these shooters have in common? They are not all mentally ill. They have not all been picked on or discriminated against. They did not all buy their guns illegally. They are not all men. Hm. Must be something else. What? What do the shooters have in common? Three things: they are unhappy, they blame other people for their unhappiness, and they don't know how to express themselves properly within acceptable social norms. Okay, now we're getting somewhere. Where are they learning these traits? Um, from society, schools, and parents.

We live in a culture that tells people if you're are unhappy, it is someone else's fault, not your own. If you're fat, it's the fault of fast food restaurants; better outlaw trans fat. Over 24,000 Patriots fans have signed a petition asking the NFL to review the Superbowl because they claim the clock should have ran out before the Giants scored the final touchdown. It's not Belichick's poor coaching (going for it on 4 & 13 instead of kicking a field goal and airing the ball out four times with 3 timeouts and 30 seconds left on the clock) or the Giants good play that won the game; it's not the Patriots fault they lost, it's the guy who runs the clock who cost them the game. If you don't win the Presidential election, the other guy clearly cheated (forget that if you had just won your home state you would have won--I voted for Gore, so shut up). Remember, whatever we do, whatever we say, little ears are always listening. Little minds are always taking it in and forming personalities and rationale with the information.

We have created a culture of blame and selfishness for our children. Dodgeball, kickball, and tag have been outlawed in some schools because some kids aren’t as fast as others or get picked last, so it’s unfair. (I was bad at physics and chemistry; other kids were quite good. Shouldn’t those courses have been outlawed to keep things fair?) About ten years ago at Regina Dominican High School in Wilmette, Illinois—an all-girl prep school—a student council member mooned cars from inside a school bus on a field trip. The school kicked her off the council and suspended her. Her father, an attorney, threatened to sue and she was reinstated both in school and to the council. I worked for four years at the Latin School of Chicago, a prestigious K-12 prep school. I protected kids from strangers during recess in a public park and directed traffic after school. The school has a rule that you have to let every child play in your game at recess if they want, no matter how that child behaves. I watched kids try to play football, soccer, catch, and so forth, only to have one trouble-maker constantly take the ball and run away with it or kick the football whenever it was put down for the next play. Kids had to spend lots of their valuable recess minutes repeatedly chasing one kid. When they complained, they were reminded they had to let that kid play, that was the rule. If kids were picked on, teachers immediately interfered. During traffic, some parents and some neighbors would park their cars in the middle of the street, park on sidewalks, run the stop sign, curse at me when I made them follow the rules and be safe, and even complain to the school that I did not let them park wherever they wanted for however long they wished.

What message are we sending our kids? That they should not have to learn to live within the rules of their community; rather, their community should bend to their wills or whims. If they are unhappy, it is the community’s fault. If you’re not fast or athletic, don’t work to get better or find a different game to play; no, just make everyone else stop playing the game they love. If you make a mistake, you shouldn’t be held responsible; no, the community should be held responsible. Our children aren’t learning how to interact or socialize in a real-world format.

Simultaneously, we teach instant gratification and unrealistic expectations. Many schools hold contests in which every entrant wins. You may not be the best but you might be the most improved or the most creative; they make up all kinds of awards to be certain every child receives one. Everyone is an overnight success. Dane Cook, for example. In reality, Dane Cook has been a standup for years and invested his life savings into his website before the Internet was big. He took risk and worked hard to become an “overnight success.” We buy and push self-help books that promise us The Secret or how to work just four hours a week. My book God is a Woman: Dating Disasters is a book of my funny misadventures with women as a touring comedian. I wrote it while working at Latin (that’s called paying your dues, another reality of life kids aren’t learning), and added dating advice after each story because there are so many bogus dating advice books out there, someone needed to take a stand. They preach manipulation, telling you how to change your guy if you’re not happy (because your unhappiness is clearly his fault), or promising you they can get you into any woman’s panties, no matter how you look, what you earn, or no matter how big an ass you are. I felt it was high time someone gave some good advice: your happiness is your responsibility, no one else’s, and you can have all the things these books promise precisely as they promise, but not by practicing their advice.

Suddenly, kids hit high school and college. The rules of real-life apply, not the bs ones that have been socially crippling their characters for years. They find themselves unprotected and without a parachute for the first time (that’s the only real “overnight” event in life). How do they react? What should they do or say? They’ve never dealt with disappointment. They’ve never had to work out problems, let alone their own problems. They’re unprepared, making them far more likely to snap when they aren’t instantly gratified and far more likely to feel overwhelmed. It’s only natural they blame other people for their unhappiness; that’s what they’ve been taught and it’s totally acceptable.

Is this why there’s been such an increase in shootings? I can’t say for sure but it seems very likely and reasonable. Teens and young adults aren’t just expressing unhappiness via shootings; other crimes, drug use, and violence are all up, and most likely related to the same cultural cause. Perhaps we should be studying these factors and looking for real causes and solutions to the problem, instead of just randomly picking things out of thin air. Who is to blame for our culture and children’s behavior? Aside from them, that’s easy to answer, just look in the mirror. We’re to blame; we are society. The day you start buying and pushing books that tell you how to be successful by working hard and smart, is the day you can point the finger. Until then, put it in your pocket, swallow hard, and blame yourself.

You may donate to the NIU February 14th fund here: https://webcluster.niu.edu/CreditCard/fdn2_step1.html

I am donating all my proceeds as an author from now through the end of March (a dollar a book) to the fund. Several of the stories take place at NIU and I hope they will serve to paint a more accurate, welcoming picture of the school and its true nature. Also, fifty percent of sales of any of the other products on my site will go to the fund until the end of March, as well. I don’t have money in hand to donate, so this is a good way for me to do it. I commend NIU and DeKalb for their quick response and warnings to students. I am only sorry that they ever had to implement their prearranged strategies and pray they never have to again. Condolences to all those involved and their families.

NIU

2008-02-15T14:17:00.000-08:00

I'm an NIU grad. You can read my thoughts here:

http://www.lunchisnotadate.org/?p=6

Obama "Changes" Things... Yeah, Right

2008-02-12T10:12:00.001-08:00

Obama promises to change politics, to be different, to do different things...

He has aligned himself with the Kennedy family, perhaps the largest and most old school political machine. He is calling for Clinton to release her income tax records because she lent money to her own campaign. Yup, sounds like he'll change a lot; definitely not politics as usual. The real question isn't will Obama change things; it's how gullible is the American public? Pretty gullible...

Clinton or Obama? Will a Leader Please Step Forward?!

2008-02-06T10:23:00.001-08:00

Well,

It was Super Tuesday yesterday; how exciting... not! I didn't vote, not because I don't have a candidate but because I hate the whole primary process. It's stupid and misleading. For example, they make a big deal about Iowa and New Hampshire. Who cares? The South decides the winner in the actual election; we've all seen that. The South remains united, the North is all over the place. No democratic president in the last forty years, with the exception of Kennedy, has been from the North. Run your candidates and take your chances; don't have a "pre-show" to see who will win, especially when your data is stupid. For example, Obama won a lot of states that traditionally vote Republican. Dems and experts are like, "Oh, he won those states and we need those states." Yeah, that's good reasoning... especially given that there wasn't a Republican candidate on the ticket! If they follow that reasoning, most likely all those states he won will vote Republican in the general election (you know, the real one), and we'll have a Dem Congress and a Republican Pres. (We need a Pres. to match w/the Congress, meaning we need a Dem because Congress will certainly be going even more Dem in the general election. If we don't have that match, little will be accomplished and we as citizens just can't afford that!)

I live in Illinois, so I guess I'm supposed to vote for Obama. Why? Because this is his home state. Oh, that's a great reason. Actually, I'm against Obama and it's because I'm from Illinois. Obama ran pretty much unopposed here, because the Republican candidate for Senator, who was a solid challenger, dropped out of the race when his ex-wife revealed he liked kinky sex and suggested a threesome. Ooh, clearly Jack Ryan couldn't be a good leader, then! So, a last second fill-in was chosen, Alan Keyes, who is a nut and offered no competition. Obama spoke a good game about all the things he was going to do. He looked like he might actually be a leader. But no, before he does or learns anything, he runs for President. If he gets in, he won't be able to do anything because Congress won't respect him and will be jealous. He has failed to deliver on his promises to Illinois because of his campaign. I didn't vote for him so that he could run for President; I voted for him to be an Illinois Senator. Once he's proven himself with a few terms, if he wants to run, great. Right now, I have nothing by which to gage him, except for the fact that he isn't doing his job and has broken that promise to Illinios, already. That's not a good trait. Also, he seems hungry to be President; impatient to wait until he has more experience or afraid he will screw up and taint his record. I don't want an impatient President or one afraid to make a mistake.

Obama also has flipped personalities. He used to talk about the issues; now, he just shrieks, "Change... change... change... I'm exicted... change!" Who makes the least change in government and the status quo? The candidates who scream about "Change!"

Gotta go with Clinton; has the experience, has paid her dues, shows extreme patience, both with her husband and in her own policital career.

Truthfully, neither is a leader. Once again, no leaders are running, just politicians. Politicians want to see their names in history books; leaders write history.

Colin Powell and Al Gore, where are you guys? You are the candidates we need! Scratch that; you are the leaders we need!

NY Giants World Champs!

2008-02-04T12:36:00.000-08:00

Yesterday's Super Bowl shocked the hell out of me. Not just because of the Pats loss and poor, arrogant coaching calls (going for it on 4 & 13 instead of kicking a field goal and airing it out with 30 secs on the clock and 3 timeouts), but even more because of the title "World Champions" bestowed upon the Giants. How annoyingly arrogant.

I watched baseball dub World Series winners "World Champions" for years, despite the strength of teams in places like Japan. Finally, they did away that title after Japan won the real world title in world-wide contest a few years ago. Hell, the U.S. didn't even make the playoffs! In fact, Canada--who cares about baseball about as much as Bush cares about the economy--beat us!

In sports like basketball and football, though, our winners are still "world champions." Really? We've been getting killed in world basketball tournaments, mostly because half of what happens in the NBA is called and our fundamentals are so bad. Guess what? Running from half-court with the ball or even the key, into a slam dunk is actually traveling. In football, some Canadian teams might very well give us a run for our money. They play a much tougher game there (to be expected from the folks who invented a sport like hockey and whose national sport is lacrosse). The goalpost is at the front of the endzone and is unpadded; you hit it hard, you just go down. The field is like 20 yards longer. You only get 3 downs, not 4. Defense lines up a yard off the ball, not on top of it, making it much harder to run. You can hit the quarterback. You can bump receivers. Plus, if we had to play in Canada in the winter... well, when Green Bay is considered Florida, you've got trouble...

When will we stop the arrogance of calling our teams "world champs?"

Finally!

2008-01-31T21:16:00.000-08:00

Well,

After talking about it for months, I finally took my dating column and turned it into a blog format. Why did it take so long? I wanted it to be the same look as my website, so I had to learn how to make that work with blogging software (I chose Wordpress). Then, I had to learn how to build a better website by learning better software (Dreamweaver CS3--rocks!). Oh yeah, then I had to make the webiste...

So, you can read my column "Lunch is Not a Date" in its new blog format at lunchisnotadate.org. I hope you will take the time to participate!

Hindsight

2008-01-24T11:29:00.000-08:00

I met someone so stupid the other day, he's hindsight was only 60/60.

My First Heckler... A Real Writer without a Parachute

2008-01-17T10:43:00.000-08:00

Well, it was bound to happen. I've received my first heckler. Contrary to his belief, I do not shy away from hecklers. In case you missed it, "a real writer" wrote this comment on my last post:

"oh good. your book will be on kindle. yeh we can all find another way to read a piss poor book. i dont know why i'm bothering even wasting my time writing a comment your just going to delate and not let anyone else read. coward. i have been trying to get published for nearly a year and i red your book. the 4 worst books ever written are yours, tucker max, maddox, and chaz Chad Kultgen's. i am a better writer than all of you and can't get published. having read your books i don't even want to be published now. they make me not want to read or write. i can't even write a review on amazon because i don't have a credit card but my reviews on all your books are coming out on barnes and noble. big surprise there's nowhere to write on your site how bad your book is or on maddox and chad doesn't even have one and tucker aproves his before they post so i know anything i write won't go up there. maybe someone will read this before you delate it and save themself from a hrorible read. i am no longer tryhing to get published if this is the kinds of stuff they publish now they can have it. you guys are all a bunch of talentless losers who just got lucky or knew someone and have lots of money to sit around and not have to work."

In case you don't know, Tucker Max and Maddox are two of the most popular personalities on the Internet. I never heard of "chaz Chad Kultgen" but I googled his name and got some info.

I'm not going to criticize the heckler for not liking my book. I really don't have the time or care. Plus, if you don't like my work, or anyone elses for that matter, that's cool and expected. Sure, I'd like everyone to like my work but that's simply unrealistic. I will, however, criticize the heckler for being precisely what he claims I and these other authors are: lazy.

Are you kidding me? I work my ass off and don't get paid for anything but the books I sell. I did an interview this morning with a popular site for twenty-year-olds that will come out next week. I'm busy putting proposals together and submitting them to publishers and agents for future books. I have to stay on top of all my columns, blogging, and business aspects, like updating my site and getting "Lunch is Not a Date" into a blog format. It is amazing how busy I get. Hell, I finally did laundry for the first time in a month, Monday, and I haven't even had time to fold the clothes and put them away, yet! I have other projects in the works, too, and don't have a day job, so I have no real money (I am far from rich). I was the hardest touring comedian in the 1990's, with the record setting 106-straight weeks on the road.

Tucker Max maintains a site and business of sites known as Rudius Media. (I actually applied unsuccessfully to have a blog with them, detailing my experience as a traffic coordinator for a ritzy private school in Chicago; funny stuff.) His company has acted as an agent and landed some of their bloggers book deals. His book I Hope They Serve Beer in Hell has done remarkably well, and continues to do so. He has two previous books that I found on Amazon, the first one published in 2001. They do not come close to sharing the success of his most recent book.

Maddox is the author of another very successful book--The Alphabet of Manliness. He has been posting to his site for ten years.

Tucker and Maddox are so successful, I offered them both the opportunity to read my book to provide quotes for the back. Why? For the same reason I approached the NY Times--they have a built-in audience who greatly respects their opinions. They've earned that credibility and the prestige to provide quotes for books. (Tucker declined, I never heard back from Maddox.)

Chad Kultgen authored a book called The Average American Male. He has a couple screenplays in production. (Getting published is ridiculously hard; selling a screenplay is at least twice as hard.)

What do the four of us have in common? Really only one thing: We are far from lazy. Lazy? Call us lazy? You've got to be fucking kidding me. It's obvious that we've all worked our asses off and continue to do so. Heckler? You've been trying to sell your book for "nearly a year?" Ooh. Sounds like a lot of work. You can't even take the time to use capital letters, proper grammar, or check your spelling. I can't even imagine what your manuscript looks like. Is it even typed? (Go to http://www.benderspink.com/ and click "Submit Script." I bet the heckler submits his work like that.)

It's not us that are lazy; clearly, it's you. Maddox and Tucker created their own audiences via hard, consistent work. (And Tucker had to fit in enough time to get plastered and do crazy things to write about through all that!) In truth, they helped pave the way for books like mine and Chad's. Instead of being jealous and lazily giving up, push harder. Hell, I tell you how I published on my site. You can pretty much do all that on your own without a publisher.

Don't follow our examples, though, because there's someone who trumps as all.

I had a tough childhood. My parents got separated when I was three, my father was never around, he kidnapped me for a year when I was five, yada yada yada. (Notice I make no excuses and didn't give up on life.) My oldest nephew, eleven, has even a tougher time with his mom (my sister). He has a two and five-year-old sister and brother, respectively. You all know my older sister has problems. They often run out of food (if I was rich, I'd feed them, heckler). My nephew worries about that. Does he give up? Throw in the towel? No. At age eleven, he pushes through.

When I dropped off his sister yesterday after a day of working out at the aquarium ("I want up," "I want down," "I want up," "I want down...;" I spent the day lifting her up and down so she could see the tanks better. Forget the gym; take a toddler to the aquarium or zoo), my nephew showed me his piggy bank, filled with $14 and some odd change. I asked him where he got it. He took me to his room. There, he told me about his business, new this year. He sells parachutes he makes from index cards, trash bags, and other everyday household items. He has four different sizes for prices from 25 cents to $1.00. He developed the "manufacturing technique" himself and employs several friends now, because business is booming since he started it on January 7th. Today, he delivers an order of ten large parachutes for $10. Yesterday he delivered an order to a six-year-old for 50 cents who wanted a parachute large enough to hold her small stuffed animals. He has developed a hot air balloon, which he will begin selling in a few weeks.

My nephew, at age eleven (how many of us could do this at eleven? Not me, that's for sure), sucks it up and does what he can; not for himself but to contribute to the family income, so that they will all have enough food. Fucking unbelievable and my new mentor. I'm sure, though, heckler, that his parachutes won't stand up to a 100mph wind and therefore suck. Did you think of his idea first but then never implement it? Probably. You're a quitter. Nothing wrong with that but don't project that onto those of us who never quit. Face up to it and move on. Buy yourself a stuffed animal and a parachute in which to carry it... you'll feel better. Don't worry; my nephew doesn't take credit cards, so you're good.

Tucker's site is http://www.tuckermax.com
Maddox's site is http://www.maddox.xmission.com
My nephew does not have a site... yet...

Men's Health & Kindle

2008-01-16T08:21:00.001-08:00

I'm off today to take my niece to see the "fishies" at the Aquarium. Should be a blast! And very exhausting... two-year-olds just never seem to slow down. They go from hysterically wild to totally asleep; nothing in between.

I've been behind on my announcements, so here's an update:

Men's Health Jan/Feb 08 issue, I'm an expert for an article.

I have a couple other interviews and articles coming out, I'll keep you posted.

God should be available for Kindle today or tomorrow. (Kindle is Amazon's new electronic book reader, just in case you didn't know.)

Your Vote is Anonymous...

2008-01-09T08:42:00.001-08:00

What I love most about the primary elections currently taking place is that your vote is completely anonymous. In last night's election in New Hampshire:

34% of black women with green eyes and short hair voted for Clinton
42% of white women with blue eyes and a breast enhancement within the last year voted for Obama

21% of white men experiencing erectile dysfunction voted for Powell (he's not even running but these guys have other things on their mind)

50% of the people living in the house at 1616 Kinsington Dr. in Concord voted for Clinton.

Yup, gotta love the U.S. and our system of voting. It's completely anonymous.

Next Book Excerpt

2008-01-06T09:37:00.000-08:00

Hey All,

My sister has her kids back, all is well, I am back! So wipe your eyes w/your Kleenex for the last time... and read.

With all the questions I've been receiving and what I've seen on the Internet, it is clear that two more books are needed--each streamlining and expanding dating advice for each sex. I never intended God to be a dating bible, just to be my funny stories with some dating advice. As such, I decided to actually write two dating advice books. The books will cover everything--from meeting through problems in the relationship. Here is one of the chapters for you perusal. (While I'm writing these books, I am also working on other books, unrelated to dating and sex; they are creative fiction works.)

This hasn't been edited by the editor, yet, of course, as I only started writing this week. The book for guys is first and it is rolling along; I am already 32 pages in to it. Hell, I've even left in the description of the drawing I want in this chapter. (This is also the column for "Lunch is Not a Date" this week and you can get a pdf copy there for easy reading--http://www.lunchisnotadate.com/.)

(This is an excerpt from Ian Coburn’s pending new book—Lunch is Not a Date – Get Comfortable with Women not Your Game. All copyright laws apply and Ian Coburn holds all copyrights. 2008.)

Actions Speak Louder than Words, Scaredy Cat

As I unpacked my gear following a three month road tour after graduating college, I was exhausted from four years of college intermingled with comedy excursions lasting up to a month, then capped off with the three month road tour. I finally took some much needed time to just relax.

While unpacking my boxes from years away at school, I came across my high school yearbooks. I then did something I had never taken the time to do before—I read all the signatures, word for word. (Really, when you know a lot of people in high school, you spend a lot more time passing your yearbook around in a rush to get as many signatures as possible than you do reading those signatures. Hell, I didn’t even know where some of my good friends had signed!) I wish I had taken the time to read the signatures back in high school.

I quickly discovered that a lot of girls I liked had liked me, too, and had dropped me plenty of hints. Truthfully, I had read some of these girls’ signatures back in high school as soon as I could after they signed, because they were very hot and sexy, and always friendly to me. A little older and wiser, I realized in high school I was a moron. Girls commented on how wonderful I was and how cool it was to know me; that they looked forward to seeing me each day and that I was one of the few, sincere nice guys. One girl in particular, Margaret, wrote, “Ian, you are the coolest guy ever. If anyone else ever says otherwise, I’ll kick their ass! :) I look forward to seeing you everyday. Love, Your Friend, Margaret.” See what a fucking idiot I was?

Margaret sat in front of me in history class our junior year. She was one of the prettiest girls in school with pretty eyes, long brown hair, a great body that was always trying to burst out in various places under her tight fitting clothes, and stood about 5’3”. (You’ll notice I don’t use a numbering system to describe women—“She was a nine and ¾. ” It’s inconsistent and too subjective. For example, lots of guys give women with big, fake breasts high numbers. I don’t find anything attractive about fake breasts and give these same women low numbers. Lots of magazines rate Halle Berry as the prettiest woman in Hollywood; I prefer Claire Forlani. It’s no secret why; I’m a big sucker for eyes. Compare their eyes and you’ll know why I prefer Claire. Also, numbering is insulting to women. Instead, I just describe the woman and you can assign her a number based on your own preferences, if you so find the need.)

Margaret oozed sex, yet somehow managed not to be the least bit slutty. Unlike most of the other hottest girls in school, she was not pretentious and was very laid back; easily approachable. Of course, the smell of her hair and perfume always drifted back to me and left me intoxicated. She was always turning around to chat with me or comment on the lecture, and was very friendly. Mostly, I remember her warm, inviting smile and that I felt very comfortable talking with her, not at all nervous like I did with other girls. At least until the times when I started to work up my nerve to ask her out; then I got nervous and backed down. I wanted to ask Margaret out but she always mentioned a boyfriend or a date just before I had worked up the nerve and was about to ask. Her timing was uncanny. I backed down, mistakenly assuming she was obviously uninterested.

These are the many character flaws in a nice guy, and I had them all:

· Doesn’t pay attention and pick up on signals.
· Doesn’t heed actions over words.
· Overanalyzes instead of taking action.
· Never makes a move.
· Has low dating and sexual self-esteem.
· Convinces himself girls aren’t interested.
· Is too much of a pushover.
· Assumes women know he’s interested without him having to do anything.
· Knows nothing about flirting.
· Assumes pretty women overflow with confidence.
· Puts pretty women on a pedestal.
· Imagines pretty women are chaste, as though they have just been waiting for him to come along.
· Is a scaredy cat.
· Has an overactive imagination and inflated ego.

Margaret always asked me if I was dating anyone or going to this or that dance; what did I do over the weekend? Did I like the same musical groups she liked? Was I going to go to a particular concert? She also complimented my clothes every few days and teased me for being smart, often followed by a gentle punch in the shoulder or a light push. I didn’t take stock of any of this; instead, all I heard was, “I had a date this weekend,” or “My boyfriend blew me off last night.”

Of course, I’d get upset. Why was she dating a guy who blew her off and not me? Ah… how about because I never asked her out? That’s a pretty good fucking reason, don’t you think? I constantly worked to convince myself she wasn’t interested. Yeah, she touched me unnecessarily but that didn’t mean anything; she is beautiful and could have any guy in school. Why would she want me? She keeps teasing me about being smart; everyone knows girls don’t like smart guys. Sure, she talks to me all the time but the only reason is because she sits next to me. And the only reason she sits next to me is because the seating is alphabetical; if she had a choice, she would seat somewhere else. Sure, she was friendly in the hallway and even unnecessarily approached me, but that was just because she knew she’d be seeing me in class, so she was nice so we wouldn’t have any problems, in case she needed to copy my notes or something. Okay, she signed my yearbook “Love” but she closed with “Your Friend.” Clearly, she isn’t interested. In fact, she’s being kind of a tease.

In short, I was a dumbass. Margaret was interested. She threw as many signals to me as she could without putting herself in a vulnerable position where her self-esteem could take a big hit. (It was taking little hits every time I failed to read one of her signals; each time she just thought I wasn’t interested.) Why did she talk about dates or boyfriends? It was always after I failed to jump on the opening she presented for me to ask her out, most likely to boost her ego which just took a hit because I passed over the presented opportunity to hit on her. It also let me know that she was able to date.

You can clearly see how I overanalyzed, convinced myself she wasn’t interested, didn’t pay attention or pick up on signals, assumed she knew I was interested (how, exactly?), had low dating and sexual self-esteem, and knew nothing about flirting (all that teasing she did while touching me. Dah!).

When it comes right down to it, I was a scaredy cat, a mere coward. Why? Because I thought if she rejected me, my life would be over. I’d have to see her everyday in class, still. She would tease me behind my back and make fun of me to all her friends. She’d tell other guys that I asked her out just before they tore off each others clothes and fucked like bunnies. These guys would tease me in the locker room at gym, then tell me how full and taut her breasts were, and how wonderfully they bounced up and down while she road their dicks in her bedroom, surrounded by her watching stuffed animals. (This would be the overactive imagination and inflated ego.)

Was I out of my mind? If I asked her out and she declined, life would go on pretty much as it did before; I’d just be a little hurt for a while but I’d recover. Also, there were nearly 1000 students in my class and more than half were girls! Chances are, I’d like someone else soon. (In high school, soon usually required nothing more than a quick survey of the classroom, where I would have noticed other pretty girls I had ignored because my head was wrapped too tight around Margaret.)

Who did I think I was that I was so important to Margaret that she would spend hours of her time teasing and discussing me behind my back and even on other dates? If she wasn’t interested, she wouldn’t even give me another thought and probably no one would know of my failure, let alone give a rat’s ass. The only way that would happen is if I kept asking her out repeatedly and followed her around like a puppy dog. And I would never do such a stupid thing. (Please don’t do that or, if you already do, stop!)

The only way anything would have ever happened with Margaret is if she had made a direct play for me, like shoving her tongue down my throat. For some inexplicable reason, nice guys assume that pretty women have extremely high self-esteem. They know guys are interested in them. They know they can have any guy. When they talk about dates or boyfriends to other guys, they are just being mean and they know it. I put Margaret on a pedestal and made her unattainable. She didn’t make herself unattainable, I did it. It was all me. No one was responsible for my failure but me.

It gets worse. I kept in touch with Margaret after high school and we went out a few times. She attended a community college about an hour from my university. Her junior year, she transferred to my school. I still had not ever made a move on Margaret, even though we had shared lots of alone time. One night she called and invited me over to her apartment. I hiked over and she mentioned her boyfriend, who went to the community college she had attended. She complained about him for a while as we sat on her bed, then abruptly stated she needed to change her pants. “Do you mind?”

“No.” I got up to leave.

“Oh, you don’t need to go anywhere. It will only take a sec.”

She stood up and only a few feet away from me slid out of her jeans. Her yellow panties were painted on her incredibly sweet ass. “Can you help me find my yellow shorts?”

I managed to reply, “Sure.”

We searched the room, looking for her shorts. She bent over right in front of me several times as she reached down to sift through piles of clothes. (This would be the appropriate time to tell a woman she has a great ass, as opposed to using it as an icebreaker.) She finally found the yellow shorts and slipped them over her panties. A few minutes later she commented that it was getting late and that she had some studying to do; I should get going. Bitterly disappointed, I left. Why had she invited me over for only thirty minutes, just so she could talk about her boyfriend and tease me? No… she invited me over so that we could fuck each other’s brains out! It is no wonder I graduated college a virgin.

On the way back to my dorm, I was split between being crushed and being annoyed. On the one hand, Margaret had changed in front of me, meaning she might do more next time and something might actually happen between us. On the other hand, she appeared to feel that I was such a non-threat and I was so far into the friend zone, that she treated me just like another girl and changed in front of me. Welcome back, overanalyzing.

Changing in front of me was Margaret’s last all-out effort to clue me in about her interest for me. After that, she stopped returning my phone calls. I actually got mad at her, can you believe that? I complained that she didn’t return my calls and became bitter. Jesus Christ, what more could I have expected her to have done?

I could go on about the number of times I was invited to coeds’ rooms in college and then left, disappointed that they only had me stay there for ten minutes before saying they had to study or get going; but, I think I’ve made my point. Also, if I re-live too many of these stories, I will start to cry.

Another occurrence I screwed up repeatedly in college was failing to heed actions over words. I’d go on dates with coeds and they’d tell me they weren’t looking to date. Or I’d ask them out again and they’d tell me they were taking too many credit hours to see anyone or go out. Some talked about their boyfriend at another school, even when they were in their room alone with me, folding their laundry, dangling panties and bras in front of me (because I knew nothing about flirting, they had no chance and their action served only to sexually frustrate me and make me more of a complaining, whiny bitch). I always told all these girls, “I’m sorry to hear that. If anything changes, let me know.”

I figured the coeds were either being honest with me or letting me down easy. Two weeks later, I’d come across them holding hands with or making out with their new boyfriend. “I thought you weren’t dating anyone,” or “had a boyfriend at another school,” or “were taking too many credit hours to date!” I’d cry.

“I was but he was so charming, I just couldn’t resist.”

Coeds would break up with their boyfriends for other guys. Hell, some of them got so involved, they would drop classes to open up their schedule. No girl ever dropped a class for me! I became more and more frustrated and bitter. Of course, I blamed the women. Whose fault was it, really? Say it with me… mine!

(Drawing here of a coed searching her room in panties and a t-shirt, looking for clothes, with the caption: “Learn from my mistake. When a coed takes her pants off in front of you and asks you to help her find something to wear, instead, help her take off the rest of her clothes!”)

Last summer I was on a date with a woman and while were eating dinner, she told me she was “on a dating hiatus.” I walked her home after dinner and made a pass at her en route. “What are you doing?”

“Well, if you don’t know, I must be doing it wrong. I’ll try again.”

“No, I mean I told you I was on a dating hiatus.”

“Yeah, I know; it’s just been revoked.”

“You can’t revoke it.”

“I just did.”

I followed-up with a second pass. We made out off and on the entire walk back to her place. A week later, we were dating. A few summers ago, I spent the better part of a night hanging out with a woman I met playing volleyball at a bar. We closed it and she insisted on walking me home. On the way, she told me she lived with her boyfriend. We had sex in the courtyard of my building. Recently, I met a woman at a bar who told me she neither hooked up with nor dated guys she met in bars. She gave me a blowjob back at my place that night.

What changed? I discovered an important characteristic of women: Women’s actions often don’t agree with what they say. When this occurs, heed the woman’s actions over her words. This was a monumental discovery for me. Whenever a woman says something, I take note of her actions. If her actions are in sync with what she says, I listen to what she is saying. If her actions aren’t in sync with what she says, I ignore what she is saying.

The woman who was on a dating hiatus (which was a problem because I happened to be on a “take-a-woman-to-dinner-for-no-reason hiatus”) was on a date with me. Clearly, she was not on a hiatus. The second woman spent most of the night talking with me and flirting, both with words and physical contact. She insisted on walking me home. Clearly, she wanted something to happen, so I made a pass in my courtyard and it paid off for both of us. The last woman said she didn’t hook up with or date guys she met in bars. Really? She was bathed in perfume, her breasts were popping out of a shirt three sizes too small and she wore a skirt that was so high it was giving me altitude sickness. Hm… that’s a lot of work to go through in order to not meet anyone.

Failing to heed women’s actions over their words is perhaps the nice guy’s biggest character flaw, serving to cause him a lot of his misery. Open your eyes, use all your senses and pay attention. If a woman says she’s not interested and acts like it, leave her alone. If she says she’s not interested or doesn’t want to meet anyone, but acts otherwise, stay on her.

Why do women often say one thing when they clearly mean another? There appear to be several primary reasons, according to my female friends (who, by the way, all claim to never follow this practice…). Some women do it as a test of the guy’s interest. A guy who is really interested will continue to pursue while other guys won’t. In this manner, she finds a guy who really likes her for her, not for her T&A. As guys, we know it’s the exact opposite; the respectful, nice guy listens to what she says and backs off, respecting her words and choice. The guy who’s after T&A pursues because he has nothing to lose; he doesn’t care what she thinks or feels, while the nice guy is very concerned about her thoughts and feelings. Other women have been told so many times that they will find true love when they least expect it—when they are not looking—they reason if they pretend they are not looking, they will trick fate into providing for them. Still, some women are burnt out on dating and just say things out of sheer dating fatigue.

Whatever their reasons, most women expect men to know what they’re doing. Ever heard this catchy little phrase? “Men are clueless.” Now you know what women mean; they are referring to guys not heeding women’s actions over women’s words.

Women do not like to be confronted about this practice—or most of their practices for that matter, so don’t do it. Don’t ask them about it. If you meet a woman you’re not interested in, sure, then by all means feel free to bring it up. Be prepared for her to get defensive, though.

The other character flaw responsible for most of a nice guy’s misery is fear. Nice guys are scaredy cats. They are afraid to take a risk, whether it be making a move or simply asking a woman out. Nice guys need to get over their fear of rejection. Here’s a little secret: Everybody gets rejected. Yes, even all the purported pick-up gurus and ladies’ men and yup, me, too. (Why don’t the experts admit to this? It’s not because it would hurt sales, which it might. Nope; it’s because a lot of the experts really aren’t about the women at all. They’re about being the most popular guy. They need to be the guy in high school that they looked up to back then; the guy they were jealous of, yet hated at the same time. Droves of guys coming to them for advice enable experts to be that guy and they don’t want to lose the awe of even one of their fans. That’s another reason many of them keep coming out with new products; when attention starts to wane, they need to kick it up again. Why aren’t I like that, you ask? I was. Want to meet the most popular guy in the room? Talk to the comedian; specifically, the headliner. I got past it; most self-proclaimed pick-up artists seem to be stuck in that phase of their growth.) Guess what? We all live to fight and mate another day after rejection.

The only way to get over fear of rejection is to become at ease with taking risk. The only way to become at ease with taking risk is to develop a thick skin. The only way to develop a thick skin is to get lots of rejection. The only way to get rejected is to take a risk. It’s a cycle, which is why it’s so hard to get started. Ironically, it is rejection itself that enables you to withstand rejection and take risk. Once you get several rejections under your belt, you’ll relax. And relaxed guys come off more confident. Confident guys have far more success with women than nice guys. Get out there and get rejected! It will help you immensely with women.

If you’re in college or high school and are a nice guy, you are now in a great position. You know what to look for in a girl’s behavior. You know to heed her actions over her words if the two don’t match. You know you need to take a risk and ask the girl out or hold her hand or give her a kiss. You’ve learned a very important fact: Women really do want nice guys; it’s just that nice guys need to make a move to find that out. Most never do and that’s why they lose out. You don’t need to concern yourself with adopting some “bad boy” behavior or acting like a jerk or developing maneuvers to get around a girl’s walls. Most women at your age aren’t skeptical and still believe nice guys exist.

If you’re older, you’ve learned some important things but you definitely need a lot more in order to regularly be successful with women. Once women reach their low twenties, many become skeptics and no longer believe nice guys exist. As they get older, they become more and more set in their ways, make the same mistakes with men repeatedly, and they become even more and more skeptical of men.

The difference between women in college and women out of college is the reason why I wish I had been given access to books like God and this one back in college. College provides you with numerous opportunities to meet, date, and experience a lot of different types of women. It is the best time and location to discover what you like and what you don’t. You have proximity, access, and opportunity. Unfortunately, I was one of the many guys who lacked even a little knowledge. College students are the biggest reason I wrote these books and they stand to gain the most from my knowledge, stories, and advice. I hope this chapter proves especially helpful to you college guys out there… or at least keeps you awake during one of those exciting lectures that are always happening on campus.

"Otay" is the New "Okay"

2007-12-30T18:37:00.000-08:00

This is what I've learned this past week from my two-year-old niece:

1) "Otay" is the new "Okay"
2) "I'm sorry" makes everything "Otay"
3) Sitting on the potty and not doing a damn thing fifteen times a day is worthy of a cookie and a celebratory cheer of "I did it!" each time. Of course, I have to be witness to this event every time because someone has to know she deserves the cookie. (She does nothing on the toilet and I still have to change her diaper several times a day.)

4) The typical two-year-old gets up a dozen times each night for the following reasons, always in this order: isn't tired, is scared, doesn't need to go to bed, wants some milk, wants some water, has to go potty, wants some juice, there is a monster under the bed, isn't tired, is scared, it's dark, and it's dark again

5) "Why?" is the only word in the dictionary
"Get down." "Why?"
"Eat your carrots." "Why?"
"Put that down." "Why?"
"We can't do that now." "Why?"

6) There is never a time for bed
"Time for bed." "No!" "Yes." "I'm not tired." "When will you be tired?" "Never! I don't need to ever go to bed!"

Mostly, this week I've learned that I'm a great big teddy bear, on which to pounce, kick, crawl, and hug. Not bad at all.

My Sister's Kids

2007-12-23T01:08:00.000-08:00

If you're wondering where I've been, I have my older sister's kids for a while. So, I am now responsible for three kids, ages 11, 5, and 2. She's busy with some things, so I agreed to watch them for a while. I'll be back in full swing after the holidays. Until then, I'm busy holding a toddler over the toilet so she can "go potty" and doing other such things. Have a great holiday, everyone!

WTF???? Customer Service??!! What's That!!??

2007-12-19T22:11:00.000-08:00

Something happened today that hasn't happened to me in years... I received customer service. Now, I know I got a glimpse of it from Adobe a few months ago, but I had to push to get it, after being transferred to several different people in different departments.

I ordered a book of TV and radio contacts to move to the next level and try to get some national media spots to talk about the book, give dating advice, talk about upcoming projects, and just all around entertain. The contact list is not cheap; it is $350 for a year. It's $700 if you want monthly free updates for a year (the industry changes fast and it's wise to keep updated). I ordered the book w/out the udpates. Well, they screwed up and didn't mail it to me Monday like they were supposed to; so, when I called them about it, they apologized and today, they called to tell me they will be giving me the updates for free. So, I got $350 of free updates w/out having to make a complaint or anything (and I wasn't going to; it was a minor error). I must admit, it was very cool and felt great. You'd think more companies would have customer service. Also, when I called their 800-number, I got a person! No "type in the bra size of your mother's maiden's name's best friend's neighbor," or anything like that. Pretty impressive!

More News - Next Project

2007-12-15T09:35:00.001-08:00

I think this is the first time I missed making an entry between posts that is more than a week in length; but, with good reason... I am nearly done with my next project and have been working hard on it. I decided to put three of my thriller screenplays into one book, after re-formatting them and flushing out the descriptive content. All these scripts have been well-received by the film industry but they want some changes with which I don't agree. (Of course, if they bought a script, they could do whatever they want with it and will.) Just like God, which a handful of publishers wanted to alter to the point of ruining it, I am going to try to demonstrate that these stories are ones audiences want. (When you travel a lot and are very social, you listen to what people like and hate and want in books and film. It's the stuff you are not going to get from focus groups, which tend to be poorly representative of the population when it comes to the arts.)

All the scripts have done well. One won a contest, the other placed runner-up in the same contest, and the third got me in with a major production company. One of the scripts is currently being developed by Davis Entertainment (Predator, Flight of the Phoenix, I, Robot), although I have lost touch with them for the time being; both of us working on other projects, and the development situation may very well have faded away. I got some great tips on scripts from them, though, so either way the arrangement was beneficial. Also, the winning script landed me my first manager after Joan Cusack read it and liked it.

So, that's what I've been up to. My latest column is up at http://www.lunchisnotadate.com. I'll have something else to say soon; most likely another dating story from my past...

Singular Existence Q&A and Latest Media

2007-12-07T17:08:00.000-08:00

Hey Gang,

My Q&A answering Leslie Talbot's questions is up. You can check it out at http://www.singularexistence.com/. Good questions and insightful.

I will be on Chicago NBC Morning News tomorrow morning at around 6:15AM with some holiday dating advice. At around 9AM, I will be on WLUW 88.7 radio in Chi-Town. A busy morning but I set it up this way so I would only have to get up early one Saturday morning and not burn more than one Friday night . . . I know what I'm doing!

Latest Column - Q&A w/Author Leslie Talbot

2007-11-30T15:41:00.000-08:00

The latest "Lunch is Not a Date" column is up; it's a Q&A w/Leslie Talbot, author of Singular Existence. The book is quite good and our Q&A addresses the pressures society and media put on women to be in a relationship and to be responsible for all aspects of said relationship, from beginning to end. It went very well. Here's the link to check it out (site is www.lunchisnotadate.com):

Nov. 30 Lunch is Not a Date Column

I also suggest reading my last post here, Wed. Nov. 28, as it is very relevant to the topic of roles placed on the genders.

Also, the deal for release of my book in Russia and CIS countries (Belarus, etc) was finalized yesterday. We're going Russian, baby!

The Mating Dance is Flirting but That's not the Real Issue...

2007-11-28T10:02:00.001-08:00

(This post will find its way into my "Lunch is Not a Date" column within the next few weeks.)

As many of you know, I recently did an interview in my column with Halima Sal-Anderson and then another with Classical One; both interviews are on interracial dating (IR). (Visit http://www.lunchisnotadate.com/ for the actual interviews.) Since doing the interviews, I have received several questions from black women asking how to do "The Mating Dance."

I have heard the term "The Mating Dance" (TMD) previously in several different circles and each kind of has its own applications. For example, pickup artists (pua's), more specifically Mystery--who is credited with founding the pua technique and community (meaning the on-line one, not the one that's existed for years prior just as a term for guys who were good at picking up women seemingly effortlessly)--states that too many guys ignore the mating dance. They express interest too soon, as opposed to maneuvering around, heightening a women's interest before indicating their own. Psychologists actually agree to an extent, stating that there is a courtship ritual to meeting someone that exists in all species, including humans, and that it tends to be more important to eliciting interest in the female of the species than in the male.

In the term IR's are using it, they are referring to people sending signals of interest to each other, specifically women sending signals of interest to men. The women who have emailed me their questions state that black women are known for not being as good at the mating dance as women of other races, specifically when it comes to "dancing" with white men.

What everyone is really talking about is flirting. Readers of God and my column know that I am very big on flirting, especially citing it as important for the "nice guy," and I provide flirting techniques throughout the book along with examples, illustrating them in the very stories in which I learned them and learned why they are important. I do give some examples of how women can flirt but not as many.

Every woman who emailed me about TMD stated "I feel I've missed out on being asked out by white men because I am not good at TMD." Basically, they are in that annoying state of wondering "what if...;" the state I lived in for years prior to age twenty-three. It is a state many, in fact most, guys live in their whole lives--"What if I asked her out?" "What if I went up to that redhead?" "What if that black woman I saw did date white guys and I just I assumed she didn't?"

The women go on to describe meeting guys on the subway (I'm assuming that's what the "London Underground" is), the bus, in a long line at the grocery store, while leaving a club, and so forth. They are disappointed because they think the guys in these scenarios did not ask them out because they poorly executed TMD. They want to know how to be better at TMD.

Did these guys fail to ask them out because the women sucked at TMD? It seems that many black women believe so; white women, on the other hand, would say, "No, those guys are just clueless." I'm not shitting you on this; black women tend to feel the fault is theirs for not sending out readable, strong signals, while white women always just say, "Guys are so clueless." I get tons of emails from white women asking, "Why are men so clueless?" I have yet to receive one from black women asking the same question. (I know who is who because women always physically describe themselves the first time they email me; I'm not sure why they feel the need, but it is interesting. It does help in some cases, depending on their question, but in most, it is a moot point.)

At this point, it is important to define flirting. There are many definitions, most of which are ridiculous. Dating experts and pua's often describe flirting as any conversation that takes place between a man and a woman. Most commonly those charging for seminars use this definition because if you say, "Hi" to someone they can say, "See? You flirted. Now, pay me $300 for the next lesson." Fucking ridiculous. What about gay people? They can't flirt? Also, most flirting has nothing to do with conversation; rather, it's body language. If I ask a woman what time it is, I am hardly flirting.

Flirting is communication between two or more people which resonates with sexual overtones via a combination of spoken language, physical touch, and body language. Asking someone how his day was is not flirting; asking someone how his day was while simultaneously smiling and running the palm of your hand down his shoulder and arm, is flirting. (Oh yeah, I am required by the publisher to mention that a lot of this stuff is in God; there's copyright laws with which to contend. That's another reason I went with a small publisher; a big publisher would only let me answer the TMD questions by writing "Read my book for all the information on flirting you need and could ever want to know; sorry, the publisher owns all the content and won't let me use my own stuff elsewhere.")

Okay, flirting is defined; great. How do you do it? As with anything else, start simple. One woman stated that she was told to "jiggle her shoulders, wiggle her butt, keep constant eye contact, keep smiling" all while continuing to talk. I laughed my ass off picturing her jiggling her shoulders while wiggling her ass. If a woman did that when I met her I'd be likely to yell, "Help! This woman is having a seizure! Do you have some kind of medic alert bracelet we should read, miss?"

That's a lot of activity to think about and put into play. Keep it simple. Don't try to do everything at once. If you meet a guy you like, when he kids you about something, push him away by gently punching him in the shoulder while commenting, "That's not true" and smiling. Insult him without meaning it--"You're a jerk;" only he knows you don't mean it because you're smiling or laughing while you say it. Twirl your hair occasionally while he's talking. Touch your cheek a few times. Make eye contact while smiling at different times throughout the conversation. Be open with your arms and keep your body toward his. (In short, don't stand there with your arms crossed, not smiling.) Fortunately, our bodies naturally help us with a lot of this stuff. For example, when you are speaking with someone and find the conversation engaging, you will have a tendency to mimic him as he speaks--when he leans forward on his arm as he talks, you are likely to do the same shortly thereafter; when he leans back, you will too, again shortly after he does. It's very natural. When someone isn't doing those things, it is often a sign that the conversation is not engaging to the other person.

So, if you don't over think it, a lot of this stuff will take care of itself. When I say keep it simple, I mean don't go in trying to think about all this stuff. Instead, focus on one or two things. Tonight I'm going to twirl my hair and smile a few times when I talk to a guy I like. Period. Don't do anything else. Another night try something different. When it fits into the conversation, I'm going to ask a guy I like if he's a good boy or a bad boy. Why? What has he done good; what has he done bad. Or, I'll say, "Ooh, tell me about the bad stuff." On another night, combine the two. By using this process, you'll become a natural flirt, able to turn it on and off at will without thinking about it. You'll touch when you naturally feel a good spot in which to do so, make a risque joke when the timing is right, and so forth. Trust me; I know. I used to suck it flirting and now I'm a king at it. I got here by doing just what I'm telling you, along with watching how other people flirted and listening to what they said.

So, what have we achieved? Well, black women, once you are good at TMD and the guy doesn't ask you out, you can then say, "Guys are clueless." Oh, what a fucking joy! I bet you're looking forward to that! Basically, we've accomplished very little in the end. Why? Because you have not established any control over the situation or yourself.

I wanted to address TMD in a blog before my column this week, which is a Q&A with Leslie Talbot, because there is a much bigger issue here that is the real heart of the matter. Ironically, Leslie and I will be addressing it in the column Friday, so a "pre-discussion" here, given all the questions about TMD, is warranted. (Plus, I've learned that for each person who asks a question, there are usually five with the same question who don't ask; meaning there are a lot of women out there who want to know how to be better at TMD, judging from the number of questions I've received.) Read the column Friday for further discussion and for Leslie's input. I will post this entry as a future column in the next few weeks but given all the questions about TMD I am receiving, there seemed no time to waste.

What did I mean by "you haven't established any control over the situation or yourself?" Exactly that. You're foolishly leaving all the power up to clueless men. (No matter how good you are at flirting, you'd be amazed how many guys have no idea that you are interested. Why? Because most guys get nervous and they are not paying attention to what you are saying and doing. You're touching them and smiling and they're thinking, "Okay, what should I say next?" Ever been talking to a guy and you think he is rude because whatever you say he completely ignores, replying with a completely different subject? Like you ask, "Where have you traveled?" and he replies, "What kind of food do you like?" Huh?! He's not rude; he's nervous. He's busy thinking about what he's going to say next the entire time you are talking, so he's not listening and responding, which is a huge part of being successful when it comes to meeting women.)

All women of every race are pre-conditioned by society and the media--I don't care what anyone else says, or what woman lib claims--to wait for the guy to make the all-important first move. I mean, all the questions I'm getting about TMD boil down to simply this: "Okay, if I giggle and jiggle just right, the guy will ask me out, right? So how do I do that?" EER! Wrong!

The concept of God is multi--it's a dating advice book, a book of funny stories, a book about being a standup comedian; it all depends on the reader and what the reader is looking for when they read it. At its most basic level, it is the very honest, open story I've my personal growth, particularly in the dating world. The humorous concept of God is that we all often blame someone else for our dating woes, even God. (In fact, especially often God.) I used to get mad at women for my failures with them. I finally woke up and realized this universal truth: the only person responsible for my happiness is me. That's true for all of us--the only person responsible for your happiness is you. Your happiness is your job and no one else's.

So why the hell wait for the guy to ask you out? Why wander around for the next three weeks thinking Gee, I wonder why he didn't ask me out. Was I not clear about my interest? I hate wondering, so I don't do it. If I'm interested, I make my move and so should you. Look, if I meet you on the bus and we're talking and you're interested, guess what? Only you know where you get off on the bus, not me! Only you know you are getting off in two stops. Are you going to sit there, hoping I ask you out before then? Are you going to ride the bus till my stop, six miles out of your way, hoping I'll ask you out? Then be pissed when I don't, because I'm thinking Well, she's black and she probably doesn't date white guys, so I won't even try for her digits (phone number).

The point is, you don't know what I'm thinking. And I don't know what you're thinking. No matter how much flirting is going on, that's the fact, Jack. It will always be the fact. It will never, ever change. It is one of the few certainties in life. Don't wait for me to make a move; make your own move. "You know, I'm getting off in a few stops, but I'd like to continue this conversation. Here's my email." "If you want my number, you better ask soon; I get off in two stops."

Now brace yourself . . . I may decline. I might be engaged. Married. Gay. Seriously involved. Stupid. Who knows? Most likely, I'll be refreshingly surprised and take your information and call you because I've received a very strong indicator that I will be successful in getting a date. (The number one reason guys don't call after they get your number, ladies? Fear of rejection. They talk themselves out of it because they didn't get a strong enough signal, in their minds, to take the next step.)

What's the worst that could happen? I reject you. Hey, welcome to our world! It happens. I get rejected all the time. Guess what? I'm still breathing, still kicking, the world is still spinning. You get a few rejections under your belt and it's like water rolling off a duck's back. Most importantly, you won't spend a minute wondering What if? Trust me, it is much better to know than to wonder. Yeah, yeah, I know a few guys get put-off by a woman asking them out. Fuck them. Do you want to date someone that ignorant, any way? He's done you a favor by saving you the vast time and energy you may have spent only to come to realize he's a stone age moron.

Don't make excuses; take control of your own happiness. Yes, learn how to flirt and be good at it; it is important. But don't ever rely on someone else for your happiness. This is especially important in IR dating, where there are so many barriers with which to already contend; eliminate the biggest one immediately.

Hope this helps. Remember to check out the Nov. 30 Lunch is Not a Date column; Leslie will be talking about other ill-conceived conceptions still plaguing women these days.

Story Posted and Next Q&A

2007-11-25T09:15:00.001-08:00

I finally posted the latest standup story to my site. Also, next week, Friday, my column will be a Q&A interview with Leslie Talbot and a review of her book. Check her out ahead of time here:

http://www.singularexistence.com/

Promises to be another good interview. The last Q&A led to a discussion with over 70 replies on the interviewee's blog:

http://whitemenforblackwomen.blogspot.com/2007/11/interview-with-author-ian-coburn.html

When I get some time (ha ha), I'll be udpdating all my sites and making the column into a blog format. This has been an official Ian Coburn update...

Just Say No to Comedy Groupies

2007-11-20T22:06:00.000-08:00

I've been promising an overdue standup story for some time. Well, I finally have time to write one tonight. I won't have a chance to post it to the site for a while, but here it is, early just for you. (I'm talking to you and one else; not you or you or you; just you.) Actually, it feels good to write something that doesn't have a deadline attached and I'm looking forward to it.

I was exposed to my first comedy groupie in Columbus, OH, at the Funny Bone. She came in on a Sunday night. She sat in the back of the club, by herself. She watched the show intermittently between watching the comedians hanging out offstage at a table in the back of the club, with whom she seemed far more interested than the one onstage. When one of us got up to go to the bar or restroom, she got up and cut us off, briefly introducing herself and smiling. She then promptly returned to her seat. The club manager, Dave, came up to us as the headliner started to wind down his set. (I was an emcee at the time.) "Any of you guys want a blowjob?"

I immediately chimed, "You know, Dave, I appreciate the offer but I'm going to have to insist on being paid in cash."

He laughed. "No, not from me. The woman over there, who's said hi to you all, is our resident comedy groupie. She comes into the club every few weeks on a Sunday and blows one of the acts in the parking lot. Anyone interested?"

One of the acts hurried away for his bonus pay. The idea of getting a blowjob from some woman who cared only that I was a comedian and nothing about me, held no interest for me. It also astounded me that such people existed.

I ran into perhaps a dozen or so comedy groupies over the years and they always fascinated me. To date I have found no other profession with such a following, save for musicians, I'm sure. No woman walks up to a construction worker and offers to blow him after verifying he is, in fact, a construction worker. And it would be quite easy, what with all those tantalizing portable potties onsite. Even doctors and lawyers don't get women walking up to them, offering sex simply because they are doctors and lawyers.

One time I worked with a headliner who had no business headlining and who was helping to kill comedy. I worked with him in Appleton, Wisconsin, at a great club called The Skyline Comedy Cafe. Despite it being summer, when crowds in areas like Wisconsin tend to shrink because people want to absorb as much of the annual fifteen minutes of warm weather as possible, the shows were almost packed. The headliner, whose name I no longer remember, was working for "summer money."

Summer money is another thing I've never experienced outside comedy and one which no other profession experiences, again save for musicians, I'm sure. The bookers of some clubs inform acts that they will be making less money for an appearance in the summer because "the club draws smaller crowds in the summer." The term has become so common that bookers just say, "We'll be paying summer money."

This is precisely why it is so important to have fuck-you money. Johnny Carson coined the phrase "fuck-you money" and the concept trickled down to me via Ken Severa, a talented comedian out of Chi-Town. "You have to have fuck-you money, Carson always said. Not enough entertainers realize that and they hurt the industry for everyone. When someone offers you a gig that pays nothing, you have to be able to say fuck you because you have money saved up--fuck-you money. If enough acts have fuck-you money, the booker has to pay more for the gig." A solid concept I took to heart.

I never quite said "fuck you" to a booker but I stood my ground just the same. I am proud to announce that I have never worked for summer money. I either worked that club in a non-summer month or the club knew better than to offer me summer money and just paid me the regular fee. Usually the conversation with a booker went something like this:

"Okay, well, we're all set, Ian. Now, this will be paying our summer money."

"No problem, I'll do my summer show."

"Summer show?" the booker would reply, getting a little nervous.

"Yeah, I do all the setups and none of the punch lines."

"That's funny," he would laugh.

"That's my summer show."

"Well, seriously, we make less money in the summer because the crowds are smaller."

"Well, funny thing, the electric company, my landlord, and the phone company all send me the same bills in the summer; they don't go down."

Inevitably, the booker saw things my way. If a club can't draw crowds in the summer, it should just shut down for the season. The best thing a comic can do is work that club enough times in non-summer months to become a draw anytime, including in the summer.

As usual, I digress. Back in Appleton, where the booker knew better than to offer me summer money, I found myself in the comedy condo (where the comedians are put up by the club) with a headliner whose name I can no longer remember. He complained to me about the summer money, which I didn't even know the club paid. It turned out he was making the same $400 to headline that I was making to feature. (He should have been making more than twice that much.) He also had to pay his own airfare from Los Angeles and rent a car to drive up from Milwaukee for the week. All I did was drive up from Chicago. In the end, he was actually paying several hundred dollars to perform.

Things got worse for him. I was on the brink of only headlining myself and I anticipated trouble; no real headliner would work for summer money, especially if he had to pay his own airfare. He was losing money on this gig, just so he could headline. He couldn't follow me and the show didn't crescendo in the proper place. Instead of leaving on a high, the crowd left on a low. Worse, I sold t-shirts after my act with one of my most popular bits on it; and I sold a lot, over 100 for the week at ten dollars a pop. He knew I was making the same amount of money, as well as over $1000 more in t-shirt sales.

Tensions grew between us at the condo. He was jealous and I was annoyed. The twit was harming the industry by working a slot for which he wasn't ready, by accepting less than half the normal pay, and he wasn't even a solid feature. He had an agent, who probably arranged the gig by refusing to book his bigger clients at the club unless a few of his weaker clients were booked. I watched many agents effectively slowly close rooms using this practice. It became more and more common and is just one of several reasons why road talent dislikes some Hollywood agents, namely the ones who push comedians prepared for short routines on-camera as road acts. Even worse, they often sent out actors as comedians, who effectively brought shows to a grinding halt.

As the week went on, he decided to usurp his power as headliner. Whenever I was watching TV, he would change the station, even if he liked the show, just so I couldn't watch it, despite the fact that he had a perfectly good working TV in his room, which was bigger than the one in the living room. (This is an understood right of headliners but one which is rarely practiced. I never practiced it as a headliner and those who did were imbrued as jerks in the industry.) After he did this several times, I committed a major faux pas myself by failing to recognize his authority as headliner--I changed the channel back.

"Hey, I'm the headliner!"

"Summer headliner; the rules don't apply to you guys."

He was pissed but there wasn't much he could do without risking a brawl.

Near the end of the week, an English woman approached me with her friends, as I sat at my table in the lobby, peddling my shirts and signing autographs. She announced, "I want to blow you."

"Excuse me?"

"In the bathroom, I want to give you a blow job. Do you have a condom? I'm all out. Well, it doesn't matter; I'll give you a blow job, any way."

You, out of condoms? Shocking. Getting a blowjob while wearing a condom is about as effective as getting a massage over the phone.

"Are you serious? You don't want a blowjob?"

The other audience members gossiped amongst themselves about this strange woman, with disbelief painted on their faces. "Nope, no not for me but thanks."

"Okay, well, you are very, very funny; the best act of the night by far."

"Thank you."

I did give her a hug and let her kiss me on the cheek. My solicitor turned to her friends, "Where's that other act? The one who went last?"

I peddled some more shirts and headed back to the condo. The headliner returned a little later. He beamed at me, determined to prove that he was worthy of the position, somehow, any way he could. "Guess who got a blowjob."

This is not a greeting I'm used to hearing, nor is it anything about which I cared. I have enough time worrying about my own penis, let alone someone else's.

"That's right, I got a blowjob in the bathroom at the club, after everyone left. A woman from the crowd. What do you think of that?"

I shrugged. "Did you wear a condom?"

"No."

"Did you make sure she didn't have any sores or cuts around her mouth?"

He started to get nervous. "No."

"That's pretty stupid, to get a blowjob from someone you don't know at all and have no idea if she has anything or a way to spread it and then to not wear a condom."

"Yeah, I guess it was dumb."

His attempt to impress me was not working. He beamed again, refreshed. "But it's still a blowjob!"

He should have left it a that but no, he had to push it and he went further than I could handle.

"What a week. I had great shows, I'm definitely a headliner (something headliners don't announce or discuss) and I got blowed. You didn't get any action this week, did you?"

"No, I don't hook-up with comedy groupies."

"Neither do I! She wasn't a comedy groupie."

"English girl, right?"

"Yeah . . . how'd you know?"

"She made me the same offer but I turned her down. Then she went looking for you."

He stood there, all his energy zapped. It was the final blow to a dismal week for him. Nobody wants to be sloppy seconds, at least not without vast amounts of alcohol being involved. I couldn't resist adding one last comment.

"Comedy groupies; just say no."

Latest Column

2007-11-16T22:46:00.000-08:00

The latest column is up at www.lunchisnotadate.com. This is a particularily interesting one, as it is another Q&A with a blogger who discusses the issue of interracial dating. He's a college student with some insightful views. Have a good weekend, everyone.

Stay in the Box

2007-11-15T22:18:00.000-08:00

I auditioned for Readers Digest yesterday at Zanies in Chicago. It was the first time I had performed standup in a few years, since turning primarily to writing. Readers Digest is looking for the funniest comedian in Chicago. They stated in their craigslist ad, which I happened to catch, that participants would be on their site. I thought that would be good exposure for the book.

It always cracks me up how the people seeking comedians audition them completely, utterly, totally wrong. As a comedian, you assume the taping will be in front of a live audience. At the very least, you assume it will be set up like a normal standup show.

Nope. Not at all. Fortunately, I was prepared, though. I got to the audition and it was arranged as follows: no audience, no other comedians watching to laugh, nothing. It was simply a small production crew. You didn't even stand on stage, you stood in front of it. I also learned only the ten finalists would be on their site. Since I had written my act that morning due to my heavy schedule--some big things going on that will hopefully be announced soon--I knew I wouldn't be one of the top ten. They wanted very specific material on topics such as marriage and pets, so I whipped up a few things. The camera was a mere few feet in front of you and they asked you to look straight into it the entire time. I asked them if it could follow me, because I am very animated onstage. They said, "Sure, just don't go out of the box." The box wasn't even four square feet total. Great.

No crowd. No ability to move. Stare straight head. Do your show. In short, don't do anything that has anything to do with standup comedy. With today's technology, I have no idea why they just don't let you email them a clip as your audition for these "searches." That way you can send them a live show which really demonstrates your comedy and the crowd's reaction. Nope, that would be sensible and few things about such auditions are sensible.

It was a good experience and good practice for any on-camera audtions unrelated to comedy, like for a dating talk show... but boring as hell. A bored comedian is an unfunny act indeed.

Too Old or too Young? Determining Your Dating Age Range

2007-11-11T19:59:00.000-08:00

I haven't posted my column up on my blog in a while. Here is this past Friday's column for "Lunch is Not a Date."

Before we jump into this week's column, I am pleased to announce that the debut Q&A proved to be quite a success. The next Q&A has been scheduled already for next week's column. It will be with "Classical One," a blogger who posts his thoughts on dating black women as a white guy and college student. His posts spark intriguing discussions and debates. In coming weeks, also watch for Q&A's with other authors and bloggers, including Leslie Talbot. Okay, now for this week's business.

Lately, I've had people email me asking if someone is too young or too old for them. They ask whether they are too old to troll bars (if you have to ask, yes, you are too old) or too young to go to certain bars. They ask if they should be attracted to older or younger co-workers. It all really boils down to one question: What is your dating age range? How do you determine it?

First and foremost, realize that dating age range has little to do with your age once you are an adult. It is autonomous to each person. In short, your dating age range has nothing to do with anyone else's, save the person who you are interested in or dating.

In my early twenties, I tended to find myself interested mostly in women who were in their early thirties. This was because I had already traveled extensively as a comedian, seen a lot, and had lots of experiences. Women my own age had little in common with me, whereas women in their early thirties had about the same life experience as me.

Now, just hitting my mid-thirties, I find myself interested in women in their early to mid-twenties. Why? No doubt every woman out there immediately thought, Yeah, because they are young and firm. Actually, some of the firmest, best-shaped women I've been with have been in their forties--nothing fake or fixed, they just stay in shape.

I lean toward younger women right now because I am in the midst of making some life-changes, like working on a new career (author, columnist, and web designer--if I ever finish learning Dreamweaver, Flash, and all the other junk), starting to get ready to save and buy a place, and that sort of thing. Lots of women I meet my own age already have a long-since-set career and a condo. They tend to be sick of their job, usually taken simply for the paycheck, and have little passion for it. They are also often downbeat about dating in general. One woman I dated recently responded with glares of skepticism whenever I complimented her during sex. It is annoying and a complete turn-off to tell someone she is beautiful and then watch her frown, followed by her reply--"You don't have to say that, I'm already naked." That gets old, tired, and annoying fast. It's not only skeptical but insulting to my judgment. What, I can't tell who I'm attracted to and need her to point out her flaws while we're fooling around?

I am obviously very upbeat about dating and my career; I have a low tolerance for women who aren't, when it comes to dating them. I relax, have fun, and don't worry about any dating norms, stupid society rules, or maneuvering tactics; I also don't greet my dates and anything they say or do with immediate skepticism. I also play a lot of sports in adult sports leagues and keep very socially active. Again, these traits tend to be shared with me more by women in their early twenties than by women my own age. (Many women my own age prefer to sit at home, catching up on TiVo instead of playing sports or being social.)

So, determine your dating age range not by your age but by where you are at in life. I am at a place in my life right now where dating significantly younger tends to be the current theme. That may very well change, as I am also interested in settling down, and younger women may not share that trait with me, yet. When it comes down to it, I'm not really dating or interested in an age; I'm interested in a person. (For example, just because I tend to date young right now, doesn't mean I date women who like to hit the club scene or hop from one party or bar to another all night long, endlessly. Not for me and many I've met follow that pattern, so I am not attracted to them.)

Date where you're at in life. You'll be happier than trying to force yourself to date where you think you should be dating or worse, where your friends and family think you should be dating.

TV Shows Support Troops?

2007-11-08T22:01:00.000-08:00

Anyone else notice how ironic it is that we are at war (although I guess it hardly feels like it for most of us, including myself, I mean, nothing has changed in my life), and television is always plugging the support of the troops; yet, so many TV shows, like Criminal Minds and Law & Order, have a lead, sadistic villian, who has been in the military and received a dishonorable discharge. Doesn't seem like now is the time to paint such a depiction, does it?

Writer's Block - er - Strike

2007-11-05T20:15:00.000-08:00

So the WGA--Writer's Guild of America for those not familiar--have gone on strike. People have been asking me why and what are my thoughts. Well, I'm not in the WGA, even though I've written two scripts-for-hire. Why not? Lots of projects get around the rules of WGA. Unless you write a script for, or sell one to, a big producer or studio, chances are you won't join the WGA. That accolade has not happened for me, yet, particularliy because I have been more focused on books these days, especially a certain one...

Generally speaking, I think writers should get as much credit as possible. The only way they seem to get credit in Hollywood is via money. Most of what they want is related to DVD sales, and that kind of crap. The average writer makes $30 grand a year--in L.A! That's insane! Without writers, there is no show, nothing to act, nada, zilch, nothing. Yet, they are paid very little, unless they happen to sell a script. From what I've read, the WGA has lots of minimums, much higher than a $30 grand annual salary. That means that most writers aren't in the WGA. So, well the strike will help writers all ready doing well and in the union, it does nothing for the writers who really need the money. I think if the WGA really wants to help writers, ALL writers, then it should fight for a minimum salary for writers, like the minimum wage, which impacts all writers, not just WGA ones. I'm not against the WGA helping out just WGA members; that's its gig. What I find annoying is when the organization states, "Oh, well most writers only make $30 grand a year." Yeah? Okay... how are you helping them? Oh, you're not. Well, then, you can't use them as an argument. That's bullshit. (I agree with what I've heard the WGA asking for, I just don't agree with the stats they are claiming to get it.)

Get a Free Manual from Adobe

2007-10-31T15:26:00.000-07:00

I ordered the Adobe Creative Suite 3 Master Collection the first of this month. It is supposed to come with a pdf user guide, but apparently it actually doesn't. If you call and complain, asking them where it is, they will mail you hardcopy for free (normally $50). So, if you have made a purchase of any Adobe software and it doesn't come with a pdf manual it promises, call 'em up and get the hardcopy for free!

I know I promised a new standup story a while back and have failed to deliver. What can I say? Things are crazy, busy, and I still have that stepfather family thing going on, which I keep writing I'll explain. I will. Like I keep promising, it is absolutely insane. It has to be done right, though, and I will probably have to coordinate with a new website. More later...

Debut Q&A Up!

2007-10-25T18:03:00.000-07:00

My debut Q&A with another author on the subject of dating is up at www.lunchisnotadate.com. Check it out; the subject is interracial dating. The appearance on WGN this morning went very well; they have a great morning team there and they make it easy. I'll have it up on the site early next week and keep you posted. Have a good weekend!

Busy Week and First Blogger/Author Q&A

2007-10-23T09:49:00.000-07:00

I will be on Chicago WGN Morning News Thursday morning at about 7:45AM Central Time, answering dating questions. They are a fun group and I'm looking forward to it. Also, the first Q&A with another author/blogger on Lunch is Not a Date will be posted this Friday as the column. I am looking forward to it. Again, her name is Halima Sal-Anderson and she wrote Supposing I Wanted to Date a White Guy...? She runs a blog at http://dateawhiteguy.blogspot.com/.

Also, I am looking into doing a children's book and amateur photography book using my various photos from recent trips. So, a busy week!

That crazy, infuriating thing I promised to blog about? Well, it is coming, unless it can be settled quietly but it doesn't look that is a possibility. It will be a while before I discuss it and I will probably set up a website for it, too. You know I'll keep you posted!

Community

2007-10-21T11:18:00.000-07:00

Ever think about what that word really means? It seems like some people get it and others don't; or, more likely, they just don't give a rat's ass. We are all part of communities, starting with the world community and working down from there. Each community can be broken down into a smaller one. Being in a community often creates an immediate bond, recognition, and respect among people. Communities are dependent upon location and situation. For example, two guys who meet and learn they are both civil servants, instantly bond as part of that community. That bond becomes even tighter when they learn they are both firemen. If they are both captains, or started the same year, or both lost a co-worker in a fire, that connection grows as the community they belong to becomes smaller and smaller; hence, tighter and tighter. When I'm in Illinois, I don't think about other Illinoisans. Yet, when I was in Yellowstone, my fellow statesman and I spoke to each other simply because we noticed each other's license plates. I quickly met some new people to keep in touch with who were also from Chicago; people I never would have spoken to if I had met them in Chicago. Interesting, eh?

In Yellowstone, everyone was part of a community. Whenever we pulled over to observe an animal, people would tell each other where they could see other animals. The community is created because everyone there wants to see animals. Often, if you saw some cars pulled over to look at a few Bison, you would pull over and tell the people, "Hey, there's a whole herd up the road, right along the shoulder." They would thank you and drive up the road for a better experience.

I detest it when people violate a community for their own perceived selfish gain. Or, when they fail to recognize the community and their role in it. I saw a gross example of this on my latest trip to Yellowstone. My mom and I came around a bend in the road and found ourselves looking smack at a wolf, not far off the shoulder. A van was pulled over and two obvious photographers--based on their equipment and hefty triopods--were standing on the shoulder, taking photos of it. We pulled over on the other side of the road and went to get some photos ourselves. I caught one photographer give us a look of disapproval. The wolf started to walk back further, seeking the sanctuary of tall grass. I heard one photographer say to the other, "Man, these are the best wolf shots I've ever gotten."

A car pulled up and slowed down. "What do you see?" asked the elderly driver--a common question among the Yellowstone community.

"Oh, just a coyote."

She nodded and her group drove on. Coyotes are a pretty common sight in the park and many people stop pulling over to observe them; wolves are rare and people always pull over to see them. The two most commonly asked questions rangers get--by far--are "Where can we see grizzlies?" and "Where can we see wolves?" This elderly group of people, perhaps on their only trip to the park and having their only opportunity to ever see a wolf, were deprived of it by an outright lie. It's almost like theft. Why did the photographer lie? A few cars pulled over leads to a lot of cars pulled over, often known as a "(animal)-jam," like a "wolf-jam" or "bear-jam." Such a jam typically scares wary animals away, such as wolves.

The photographers, who had already gotten great shots of the wolf, didn't want to share. They felt they had a special right to observe the wolf, take photos, and that a simple park visitor didn't have those rights. True, you could argue that the photographers were part of a tighter community than just the Yellowstone community; they were part of the professional photograhper community in Yellowstone. Perhaps; however, what is their role in the Yellowstone community? Who buys their photos, displayed on postcards, or their books of photographs? The woman in the car and her group. Why do they come to Yellowstone? To see the real thing these photographers' photos depict. If it wasn't for the Yellowstone visitor, the photographers and Yellowstone would be out of business. No doubt, the photographer violated the unwritten rules of the community. Had I acted quickly enough, I would have told the woman it was a wolf, although the photographer may have used his expert position to again lie in order refute my truthful claim.

Whatever communities you are part of, I hope you follow the rules of the community. You may go beyond the duties of them, if you wish, but at least hold the basic rules to heart; breaking them can ruin aspects of the community for everyone. As a comedian who other comedians have let crash at his place, I've let comics crash at mine; however, the last few stole some items, so now I will no longer do that. See how they have hurt the rest of the community? Alex, an acquaintance of a friend, left a key for me under his mat at a his place in L.A. without ever having met me. (He was in Vegas for a few days and let me crash at his place while he was gone, without ever having met me.) Alex is an actor looking to make a name for himself and I was coming out to L.A. for a week as a screenwriter looking to make a name for myself. That was our community; our bond. Often, actors, comedians, writers, and other artists will let each other in the community know of open gigs, bad gigs from which to stay away, agents who steal by taking too big a cut of the gig purse, and so forth. That is a responsibility in the community.

Whatever communities you are part of, remember to obey the rules of them, even if it might deprive you of something. Remember, the community is after the same thing you are after; that's what makes it a community. There may be times when you have to reach out to the community on a larger scale, to let them know of something or to warn them, so that they don't suffer the way you may have suffered, or to simply help them by shedding some light. If you choose not do so, that's fine, as it may be a big burden to carry and not wanting to do so is quite understandable; however, stop to think If someone had written about this or warned me, would I have benefited? Will others in the community benefit if I do so now myself? If so, hopefully you can find the strength to do so, or to allow someone else to do so for you. People often ask me why I wrote God; that's why. We are all part of the dating and relationship community. I felt I had some good stories and advice to share that could help out others in the community. Period. (Oh yeah, and I love to make people laugh, as you know.)

Communities. If you think about it, where would we be without them? Nowhere. And, if you think a little more, what creates all the problems in the world today, including crime? Simply a violation of a community's rule, unwritten or written. If we all keep our communities in mind all the time, the world would almost be a perfect place.

New Yellowstone Photos

2007-10-20T16:01:00.000-07:00

Here are some of the Yellowstone photos from my latest trip. Enjoy!

Tomorrow, I Promise...

2007-10-19T13:15:00.000-07:00

I can't believe it has been a week since my last post. (So, what's new, right?) I just got back from Yellowstone today. I have some very cool new photos and some thoughts to share. Fortunately, I am on Chicago NBC morning news tomorrow, around 6:50AM, if you happen to be up that early and get the station. So, for now, I have to prepare for the show; but I will have a new post tomorrow, I promise... really, I will!

Next TV Appearances and Craziest Blog Ever Coming...

2007-10-12T22:49:00.000-07:00

In Yellowstone again, this time with mom. Great time to be here; fantastic colors and most of the animals are in heat, which means clashes among Elk, Moose, and deer. I'll see if I can get any on video to share...

Of course, as always, I am working even while on vacation. (Have to be! Always have to be working to help out the dating impaired, as I used to be one.) I will be on TV next for NBC Chicago Morning news on Oct. 20th (Sweetest Day) and on Oct. 25th for WGN Morning news. I'll keep you posted on the times as we near the dates...

Something recently occurred with the passing of my stepfather that has the potential of being both unbelievable and one of the most horrific things I've ever heard. It promises to be my craziest blog ever, which will infuriate. When I return from my trip, I'll have more details and the blog will post... trust me, this is just wild, wild, wild stuff!

Rudy's Letter

2007-10-06T07:41:00.000-07:00

This is a letter my mom came across while going through Rudy's (stepfather's) stuff. It adds fuel to the fire to get the celebrity-signed-book copy for Ebay, donating the proceeds to a Vet benefit fund. (Thus far, btw, I've heard from the following celebs, all of who want to sign: Brett Butler, Jimmy Pardo, John Caponera, and Rocky LaPorte.) It also provides some insight into the simple everday things Vets struggle to get that the rest of us often take for granted. I will be heading to Yellowstone with my mom roughly from Oct 10-20 and will be focused on the book signing project 100% upon my return. Of course, I'll keep you posted as I hear from more celebs.

Actually, I think I mentioned this letter previously but now I have an actual copy and can quote it. As I indicated previously, Rudy was a big Paul Harvey fan. He wrote this letter in '92, after which his heart greatly improved due to various medication and he was taken off the heart-transplant candidate list.

Dear Mr. Harvey:

For years I have read and heard about Kup's Purple Heart Veterans Cruise. Royko applauds it, as you do. I don't know anyone who doesn't think it's great, including me. Few veterans can benefit from it, however, and most get treatment of a far different sort.

I am an ex-marine with a bad heart trying to qualify for a heart transplant. My beef is that while recently a patient in the Hines Veterans Hospital I was shocked to learn that the pateients' library is unable to provide a daily newspaper. I was told the library had no budget for this. Imagine a lonely, hospitalized vet looking for a job, a cheap used car, a sleeping room, cremation services or just some current reading material - and he cannot go to the library in a huge hospital like Hines and read a newspaper in the great city of Chicago.

Isn't there something three heavy weights like you of WGN, Kup of the Sun Times, and Royko of the Tribune could do? Even a day old paper would improve on the current situation and give some help to our guys.

Where in hell is all the recent Desert Storm spirit? How soon they forget...

A faithful listener,

Rudy Kara

Personally, I find the situation appalling and ironic. There is a lot of rhetoric reminding us that our soldiers fight to protect our freedoms, especially emphasizing our freedom of speech. Yet, these same soldiers can't even benefit from their own work and dedication--they can't read the current freedom of speech expressed in the latest newspaper while they're laid up for defending that freedom of speech. Rudy was right; something is very screwy about that.

Quick Update

2007-10-02T16:02:00.000-07:00

I will be working on another comedy story for the site; of course, I will post it here, too. It should be up within the next week or two. This has already been an extremely busy week. A popular cable show is currently speaking with me about being on an episode; would be a lot of fun, so I'm hoping it will happen. I am also setting up my first Q&A with another dating author. I want to do Q&A's with other dating authors and bloggers, as it will bridge some gaps out there and create lots of intriguing discussion and thought.

My first Q&A guest will be Halima Sal-Anderson, who is located in the UK. She blogs about interracial dating between black women and white men. It is an intriguing topic and I read her book, Supposing I Wanted to Date a White Guy...? If you've read God is a Woman, you are familiar with my humorous encounter with a black woman--Aretha. I also have some other exposure and a fair amount of questions for Halima. So, sometime within the next few weeks or month, the Q&A will be my weekly "Lunch is Not a Date" column. It will probably be a two-part column, due to the length. I'm excited about this and really looking forward to it. In the interim, feel free to check out Halima's blog at http://www.dateawhiteguybook.com/index.htm, aka www.dateawhiteguybook.com.

As for other things, I am taking some time to help out my mom. We will be hitting Yellowstone for a trip her and my stepfather had been planning to take (she was going to surprise him with the location), and I will be traveling to and fro to Ohio to help her out with things. Also, I found a letter from my stepfather written to Paul Harvey (he was a huge fan of Paul's), trying to get some publicity for Vets so they could have simple things like current newspapers in VA hospitals, instead of week old one. This makes my mission to auction a celebrity-signed book on ebay all the more important.

Out for now; off to unwind and play some hockey!

The Rudy Way

2007-09-26T19:20:00.000-07:00

Sorry I've been gone and distracted so much lately. My stepfather's passing last Monday has been somewhat traumatic and been keeping me busy. I will be back in full form next week, although I am leaving town again around the middle of October--going on a trip with my mom that her and my stepfather were supposed to take. Here is my latest column:

I apologize for not having last week's column up on-time. It was supposed to go up on September 21st and instead it went up on September 26th. Unfortunately, on Monday, September 24th, my mom called me in the night to inform me that my stepfather--Rudy--had passed away. I packed a bag and headed out to be with her in Ohio the next morning. I only got access to the site again today. As such, it will be the column for both September 21st and 28th, in honor and memory of Rudy.

I learned some key things about women and relationships from Rudy. They bear repeating.

"If you try to understand a woman, it's your own damn fault." Rudy told me that when I was in my early twenties, upset about a woman who had hurt me. ("Laura" in the book.) What he was really saying was that women are emotional. There will be many times when a woman acts out of emotion instead of rationale; don't try to understand it. Accept it. Empathize with it. Ignore it. Be pissed about it. But never, ever, try to understand it; because, as a man, you won't.

"A lot of people like me. A lot of people don't. I try to spend as much time as possible with the ones who like me and as little with the ones who don't." When you think about it, it's surprising how much time we spend trying to make people like us. Why? Spend that time with people who do like you. Dating isn't any different. If you find yourself spending a lot of time trying to convince a guy to like you or chasing a woman who keeps turning you down, open your eyes; re-invest that time in someone who shows interest.

Here's a catchy little line that gets a laugh and starts a conversation. I haven't used lines in years but I did use this one a few times and Rudy swore by it. It's very laid back, which is a big part of why it works. Approach a woman and ask, "If I won millions in the lottery, would you run away with me?" The woman almost always replies positively. "Can I borrow a dollar?" When she looks at you inquisitively, reply, "To buy the lottery ticket." This gets a laugh and then leads to a conversation. On the off chance that she says "no" to running away with you, reply, "See, this is why you're single. How much would I have to have for you to run away with me?" Banter with her. Chances are she'll mumble something about there not being enough money in the world for her to run away with her. Tell her, "Good, because I don't have enough to even pay for the drink I'm about to buy you." As long as you get a laugh somewhere along the way, you can get a conversation going. If you don't get a laugh, hey, read the entry before this one--"A lot of people like me. A lot of people don't..."

Dirty jokes work on women. Rudy told tons. Women always fell for them, including my mom--who supposedly hated dirty jokes. It's all about the timing and delivery. Here's one that's actually pretty clean: Three couples go to see a priest about joining the Catholic church. He tells them in order to join the church, they will have to give up something dear to them to show their loyalty to God. He decides that they must give up sex for thirty days. After thirty days, the reluctant couples return to see the priest. He asks them how it went. The first couple replies, "Man, it was tough; we had a really hard time, especially on the twentieth day. Wow, she was looking hot that day, but we hung in there and we didn't have sex for thirty days." "Welcome to the Catholic Church. And you?" "It was tough, really, really, really tough, but we did not have sex for thirty days." The priest welcomes the second couple, as well. He then asks the third couple, "How about you?" The guy shakes his head, "Man, we were doing really well but then on the twenty-third day, she dropped an apple. When she bent over to pick it up, I just snapped. I took her right then and there. It was the most passionate, hottest, loudest lovemaking we've ever had." "Okay, well, I'm sorry but you're not going to be able to get into the church." The guy scuffs, "Pfft, yeah, we're having trouble getting back into the supermarket, too."

What I learned most from Rudy was that when it comes right down to it with relationships with women, it's not about money, looks, or style. It's about showing them you are thinking of them. You do that by surprising them with a gift or date that relates to something they mentioned in passing, which they thought you never even noticed. Do something romantic every now and then. Rudy faired far better with women by surprising them with a picnic in a park or with roller skates to go on a surprise skating date, than other guys who dressed sharply, dropped a heavy dime, and spent their time talking about their own accomplishments. Pay attention to the woman. It really is that easy. (That doesn't mean be a sap or "nice guy.")

Here's a little trick Rudy used that might work in your area. He found out where the airlines put up stewardesses. He became friends with the desk clerks of those hotels and they gave him a call whenever a few strikingly girls landed. Rudy then went to their room and offered to show them the town. Of course, that was years ago. Nowadays, you'll have to put a spin on it in order to make it work; you probably won't be able to get hotel room numbers flat out. Use your imagination; maybe you can find out where the flight attendants eat or what time their flights are landing--that would be key because you could be in the lobby when they arrive.

Most of all from Rudy, I learned that life is short and to enjoy it. I live everyday to its fullest and discovered after his death, from his good friends and neighbors, that he thought highly of me and my approach to life. He was happy for me, that I was able to travel as a comedian during my "early years" and that I have a book out, which is selling well and helping others lead happier lives. It makes sense, since, in a way, I'm really trying to teach people what he taught me. "Tomorrow is not another day; tomorrow is today's backup plan." That philosophy of mine came from a combination of myself, Rudy, and "Carpe diem" from Dead Poets Society. I thought highly of you, too, Rudy. Thanks for all the advice and for being there when I needed it. I will do my best to spread your philosophy and keep it alive.

Stepfather Passed Away

2007-09-20T18:48:00.000-07:00

"If you teach a man to fish, he'll take your best spot." That was one of Rudy's many favorite lines. Who is Rudy? For all practical purposes, my stepfather. He and my mother have been together for over 22 years, making them married under common law. Both had bad first marriages and figured why jinx their relationship by buying more rings? If you think of Santa as a beer drinker and teller of dirty jokes, you've got Rudy. On Monday, at age 79, he unfortunately passed away, sitting in a chair, flipping through old limericks he had photocopied, out in the garage. Ironic, since he always complained to my mom--who bugged him repeatedly to clean out the garage--"if this is my last day on Earth, I don't want to spend it cleaning out the garage." Well, that's what he was doing--cleaning out the garage.

I drove out to Ohio, where my mom and Rudy live, Tuesday morning. I've been here since, with very limited Internet access. (I hack a signal from a neighbor but usually it's not strong enough to gain access.) So for those who have been emailing me, sorry I haven't replied; I probably won't get a chance to until next week.

Rudy had the life, man. He retired young after owning a pool hall and inheriting some money. He made wise monetary decisions and was thrifty. He traveled extensively, living in his favorite places at their peak times of year--Florida in the winter, Chicago in the summer, and so forth, until he met my mom. He was the guy everyone knew and everyone liked. He always went out of his way for people, taking time to bring them things or do work for them. For me, it is a huge loss, leaving a great void. Rudy was my advisor. When I had questions, he had advice. I spoke to him only a few hours before he passed about a situation with work.

I don't really know what else to write just yet, I just wanted to get some thoughts out and let you all know why I've been absent recently. I'll be back soon...

Signature Project and Sites Down

2007-09-16T08:38:00.000-07:00

Sorry I haven't posted in nearly a week; things have been crazy busy. The celebrity signature project I have undertaken has been going well. I started to contact celebs, mostly via myspace and direct emails, this past week and three have already responded that they are in--John Caponera, Rocky LaPorte and Brett Butler. I will update as I hear back from more.

Also, my site is down this morning. I just got word that the server hard drive crashed and my host is currently working on the problem. It will either be back up on its current server or I will move it to Go Daddy, assuming I can figure out how that works! I hope I don't have to move it, though, because it could be done for a few days if I move it to Go Daddy; it takes some time, as I understand it, for that to get set up. Sorry for the inconvenience and thanks for your patience.

YouTube Videos of Trip

2007-09-10T07:42:00.001-07:00

Here are the two YouTube videos from the trip I've put up; one is a grizzly with four cubs, the other Bison crossing the road. Both were taken at Yellowstone.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oYDyhwwv-Uk

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S-VmZTg-xN0

Enjoy and have a good one, everyone.

Latest Article - Defending "Game"

2007-09-06T20:20:00.001-07:00

Here is my latest article, which explains and defends "game." I happen to know some articles will be coming out soon attacking pua's and game; I felt it pertinent to beat them to the punch and explain what can easily be misunderstood and ridiculed. Before you get your panties or jockstrap in a bunch, I do discuss the problem with game; fortunately, I give the solution, too. Hey, what can I say? I'm a nice guy.

http://ezinearticles.com/?What-About-Her?-The-Flaw-with-Game-Exposed&id=713694

For those too lazy to look it up, here it is written out (like I said, I'm a nice guy. Is anyone buying that?):

Approach your target within three seconds of making eye contact with her. Get her number within five minutes of talking with her and then leave. Wait five days before calling her. We’ve all read these purported general guaranteed approaches to meeting women reiterated tirelessly in numerous articles and books by pick up artists, alpha males, and other dating experts. Rubbish. Quick question—what about her?

The general problem with both the alpha male and pua philosophy is that there is little focus, if any, on the woman. The techniques are far more concerned with dominance, being cool, meeting lots of women, and racing against some imagined clock. I am pleased to see the communities and to see them growing because they’ve created open dialogue among guys about women and sex, which are topics guys don’t explore outside of a quickly commented, “She’s hot,” “I need to meet her,” or “I still gotta give that girl from last week a call,” or a similar blurb. While the pua and alpha male societies tend to get a bad rap from women and society, they are actually good guys. Most of them aren’t looking to get laid or abuse women; they’re simply looking to develop socializing skills with women and date. Perhaps the biggest reason people frown upon them is because they have created terminology which sounds cold and degrading; in order to better teach guys, and communicate amongst themselves more effectively and efficiently. Outsiders erroneously interpret their language as meant to degrade or trivialize women. Examples include terms like “negging,” “skills set,” and numbering women on a scale from one to ten. It’s easy to see how an outsider could quickly perceive these terms as negative. The overall terminology and approach are described as “game.”

Therein lies the most glaring problem with the preached approach—the focus has become on the game, forgetting about the women. Participants focus on developing an arsenal of opening lines, rehearsed moves, and counter-responses to expressed disinterest by the “target” (woman). The point of game should be to develop confidence, people skills, and sense of humor, all leading to improvisation—being able to handle interacting with women in any situation. Once that is achieved, the game should be cast aside, no longer needed. I always like to use my own personal experience to illustrate.

In my late teens, I often found myself unable to speak more than a few words to women at bars or clubs, even though I wanted badly to meet many of them. I pretty much got in a quick hello and smile, asked a question or two, followed that up with awkward silence, then said, “Well, it was nice meeting you.” I then returned to a corner of the bar and people-watched. If I really liked a girl, I would approach her again with another couple questions. Once answered, I returned to my corner and thought up some more questions. I then returned and asked her those questions. It was a sad, totally ineffective approach; in fact, it couldn’t be called an approach. I needed something to say after “hi;” something that was interactive and engaging.

One day I worked with a comedian who performed a riddle on me while we were at a bar. I quickly began to use what I now term the “2 to 9”-bit. I would introduce myself to a woman after a quick hello and then implement the riddle. It went something like this (follow along by choosing a number and following the instructions, too; at the end of the article I explain how it works):

“I bet I can guess what you’re thinking.”

“Oh really?”

“Yeah. Choose a number from two to nine but don’t tell me the number . . . Got it?”

“Yeah.”

“Multiply the number by nine. You now have a two digit number, right?”

“Yeah…”

“Add the two digits together.”

“Okay.”

“You have a one digit number again, right?”

“Yup.”

“Subtract five.”

“Okay.”

“Take that number and make it equal to a letter in the alphabet. For example, one would be A, two would be B, and so forth.”

“Okay, got it.”

“Think of a country beginning with that letter.”

“Okay.”

“Take the last letter of that country and think of an animal beginning with that letter.”

“All right.”

“Now take the last letter of that animal and think of a color that starts with it.”

“Okay, this is kind of getting long…”

“I have no idea what your number was but why are you thinking of an orange kangaroo from Denmark?”

“Oh my God! How did you do that?”

The woman would usually touch or punch me while expressing her disbelief, putting me more at ease. I would play it off that I was just talented and touch her back. We’d discuss the riddle for a moment, occasionally I’d give it away or tell her that if she was good to me, I’d tell her how I did it. That move quickly developed my flirting skills, as most women replied, “And what do you mean by good to you?”

“Oh, I’m sure we can think of something.”

“Uh huh. I bet you are already thinking of something.”

I got bolder and bolder, which led to more and more flirting. “I am actually more wondering than thinking.”

“What are you wondering?”

“What color your panties are.”

It was surprising how women reacted to such a statement. Some laughed, some told me if I was nice to them maybe I’d get to find out, and some even showed me on the spot. My favorite times were when women replied, “What makes you think I’m wearing panties?” I quickly learned that women liked flirty banter and became a master at it.

After several months and using 2 to 9 to meet many women, I found myself phasing it out. I became more and more at ease with discussing whatever was on hand—improvising—no longer needing a trick or opener. Soon 2 to 9 was gone, replaced by what I term the “common denominator,” named only to explain it better so that other guys can use it. The common denominator is the thing or things you and the woman have in common; it could be having seen the same guy trip in a bar, ordering the same drink, standing next to each other in line, whatever. As I used the common denominator more and more, I paid more attention to my surroundings and what the women said and did, as opposed to having an arsenal of ready-to-use responses. I truly learned to interact with women and dropped all game; I was able to see things from their perspective and develop sensitivity. I was no longer, as women call it, “clueless.” The point is, game should lead to no game; it should lead to a true change in personality.

If you want to date a woman, who have to develop sensitivity and think about her; you must be able to see things from her perspective and get inside her head. Women do not tell guys what is bothering them or communicate well, despite generalizations to the contrary. Don’t believe me? Ask any married man and he’ll set you straight before your next blink. Again, that is where game is lacking; there is no true account for the woman’s feelings and thoughts, outside what might get you laid. Game does not account for women’s feelings and thoughts, not really, which is perhaps the biggest reason why non-participants scorn it.

A quick visit to message boards will find many discussions about women in which guys exchange numerous ideas about how to get those they’ve met, or had some success with, to date them. Like I said, most of these guys are good guys just trying to date a woman they like and they’ve turned to game; unfortunately, many get stuck in the game and don’t get past it. I was shocked to see on Neil Strauss’ site, renowned pua and author of The Game, that he still uses and is developing lines. Huh? He should have discarded game long ago. Other practitioners of game (pua’s, average guys, alpha males) I’ve talked with have moved past it, grateful that it served its intended purpose.

Why can’t many guys get past game? They rely on it too much, instead of taking risks by improvising. It was only through discarding game that I came to truly realize why game works . . . and why it doesn’t work all the time, which is a lot with practices such as approaching a woman within three seconds of making eye contact or focusing on getting her number within five minutes. (A lot of phone calls to those women don’t get answered or returned, so what purpose was really served? Certainly not getting a date.) Also, just like most chick lit., there is an underlying bitterness toward women for many of these guys. I went through the same feelings. I was bitter toward women for my lack of success, blaming them. If I didn’t have good social skills, why should I expect them to have those skills? If I didn’t know how to gage and create interest, why should I expect them to see my interest, or simply have interest for me just because I came over and said hello? I couldn’t; it was unfair and only getting in my own way. Again, I realized this only as I started to discard 2 to 9.

As an example, consider an entry on a message board in which a guy fooled around with a friend he’s liked for years. She and he got drunk and he got her top off in a park, where they rolled around and made out. He called her the next day, excited about what he expects to be a new relationship. He has not heard from her at all since that day, going on one month now. (I could have used any number of entries like this one as an example.) Dozens of guys have responded to his thread. Some have called her a “heartless bitch,” others “not worth your time” or “a tease.” Many have given advice on how he can get her back by using some game techniques; he has replied that none of them have worked. What gives? Not one guy replied, “What about her?”

What about her? Could it be that she’s embarrassed? Fears she may have screwed up a friendship? Feels slutty? Thinks she made a mistake and doesn’t want to mislead him? Is afraid he’ll want to just have sex if they get together again? To his one frustration and confusion, she’s going through dozens of thoughts and feelings. It’s probably too late now, but had he just taken a little time to consider her perspective, he would have anticipated her inevitable emotional reaction. He would have been able to address the issue right away, even on the spot with a simple, “I’m glad this happened but I’d like to slow it down. Can we just get together and talk in a few days? I don’t want to lose our friendship but I like being close to you, too. It’s kind of weird, you know?”

Wow! She’s thinking the same thing and now feels a greater bond and connection to him. She didn’t make a mistake; she can see that they are in the same place or at least having the same confused emotions and thoughts. He actually has the stated concerns but guys tend not to realize such things until it’s too late. We’re not good at analyzing our feelings and don’t do it; women do and to truly be successful with them, guys need to relate to that trait, even without having it ourselves. Again, I speak from direct experience.

When I was going through my severe jerk stage (I tell this story fully in my book God is a Woman: Dating Disasters), I hooked up with a woman who I had spoken to all of fifteen minutes and once on the phone. I met her while she was part of a bachelorette party entourage. It turned out she lived en route to a gig I would be driving to in a few weeks. I pushed hard, even though she herself was engaged. While she declined to give me her number, she did track me down the week before my drive past her town; she had dumped her fiancé and moved in with her older brother. To make a long story short, she ended up naked under me on one side of a blanket hanging from the ceiling in a studio apartment; on the other side of the blanket laid her brother. We called it before technically having sex but as you can imagine, everything else happened.

It took me two days to realize why she wasn’t returning my calls. It finally occurred to me that she was completely humiliated, embarrassed, was probably walking around avoiding her brother as much as possible—if she was even speaking to him—and so forth. Dah! I left her a message that I wanted to talk, that I didn’t want to leave the message on her and her brother’s answering machine, but I would if I had no other way to reach her. That got her to call me back and we discussed the situation. It wasn’t that I was insensitive or clueless; it was that I am a guy and guys don’t operate the same way as women. A guy’s mind and his emotions line up; if they don’t, he doesn’t act. We don’t sit there thinking, Okay, I have all these feelings and impulses that feel great; I can’t act on them, though, because the situation is wrong. My mind is telling me not do it. No. Our minds tell us Great, it feels good, she’s into it, experience each other. Guys don’t do things we don’t want to do; period. Women do and then later will blame the guy. There’s no use being upset about it as a guy, it’s simply the way it works. In her mind, she was thinking I shouldn’t be doing this, I shouldn’t be doing this but her emotions were saying I want him so badly and this feels so good. We ironed it all out but only because I became sensitive to “what about her?” that day.

I break all the rules of game when it comes to meeting women because I no longer need them. Consider the woman I just started to see. I met her on a pub crawl on a Friday night. I caught her eye a few times as she sat at a table with her friends, comprised of both men and women. They all laughed boisterously every few minutes. She wasn’t sitting on the end, so she wasn’t accessible. I shrugged it off and went about my business. Later the seat near her opened up and I went and sat down, commenting that it was obvious they were having the most fun of anyone in the bar and hence, I wanted to be with them. I didn’t ask for her number until we hit the last bar. In fact, I didn’t ask for her number at all; instead, I asked her out for the next night after learning she didn’t have plans. (This is supposedly desperate and makes me look socially non-busy; I’m supposed to appear very busy.) She gave me a maybe. We did not go out the next night but we did go out Sunday night. I broke every rule and yet it has worked out well. Why? Because those rules weren’t the right fit for her. They are not the right fit for anyone, really; they are just tools to be used to develop skills to get comfortable with women. Once you get experience and are comfortable, the techniques and lines should be phased out. Eventually, you will find that you are a new person. I am not the Ian Coburn who couldn’t talk to women armed with skills now; rather, I am a completely different person. That’s the real goal; to change your personality to an effective one, not to rely on rules and lines the rest of your life. Too many guys following game out there aren’t new people; they’re the same people with the same awkwardness and thoughts about women, only they are now armed with tools that, while helpful at first, are now in their way.

Work your game. Get comfortable. Add making a point of trying to see things from the woman’s perspective, anticipating her concerns, and evaluating things from her point of view when things aren’t going the way you expected. Lose any bitterness; the only person responsible for your happiness is yourself. It is no one else’s fault that you struggle in the dating world. Soon you will be a new man; one who women respect and like and won’t label as being a player or pua, or not want to date. The ultimate goal is to get comfortable with women not your game.

How 2 to 9 works: Every number between two to nine multiplied by nine results in a two-digit number that’s digits add up to nine. Subtract five and you end up with four, meaning “D” is always the letter; orange kangaroo from Denmark is almost always what people choose. I got so good at 2 to 9 that I could even call it when someone was thinking of a tan cat from the Dominican Republic. Once a woman did snub me by choosing teal (what the hell is teal?); she’s still in the trunk of my car . . . remember, lose your bitterness . . . Get comfortable with women not your game.

Comedian Ian Coburn is the author of God is a Woman: Dating Disasters, which offers fresh, original dating and sex advice to both men and women via stories of his hilarious failures as a touring comedian and what he learned from those stories. The book spawned his dating advice column--"Lunch is Not a Date" and earned him a new gig as a relationship expert on Lifetime. You may visit the following for more information, including excerpts from the book and his column: http://www.godisawoman.net
http://www.lunchisnotadate.com

God is a Woman: Dating Disasters is available wherever books are sold.

A Little Charity

2007-09-04T21:30:00.000-07:00

I was watching television Monday night while getting ready for bed and a commercial for the war came on the air. It featured a mother who informed me that her son died in the war and that if we pulled out now ("surrendered"), his death would mean nothing. "Defeat," she said, "is not an option." It had something else in there about needing to achieve "victory."

If you're like me, as most Americans seem to be these days, you are against the war in Iraq but support the troops, and you are tired of the administration trying to tell you that the two cannot be separated--if you are against the war, you are against the troops. I'm sorry, when did we vote for Stalin? I don't remember his name on the ballot, does anybody else? It sickens me that the Bush administration tries to bully us around and trick us into supporting what seems to be an endless war. A heartfelt statement from a mother is hitting way below the belt (when did politicians start doing that?) and insulting to mothers of other soldiers. It's like saying to them, "My son died in the war and your sons should continue to risk death for that reason alone."

You can't stay in a war because soldiers died. If you did, no war would ever end. It's not fair to ask other soldiers to die because soldiers before them died. This seems to be the only platform for the war the administration has currently. "Well, some soldiers died, so we should keep fighting to make their deaths mean something." Okay, then more and more soldiers die. Where does it end? Bush also compared Iraq to Vietnam. Yeah, that's a war you want to reference to gain support. If our adversaries in Iraq have the same attitude about their soldiers dying, we can be certain they will never stop attacking as long as we occupy; they've lost a lot more lives than we and thus have a lot more deaths to make count.

Where I stand on the war is a moot point; I just wanted to state it so everyone knows before I discuss the real issues, because people seem to want to always know these things. Do I vote democrat? Republican? Neither. I vote for whom I think would be best for the job. I would vote for Colin Powell in a heart beat if he were running for the Presidency. I wouldn't hire George Bush to clean my tub. The current candidates stand somewhere in between but most of them closer to the tub cleaning position.

Okay, hopefully we've cast political and war views aside. Now, we can discuss the real issues.

Two things really gall me about the statements the Bush administration makes. One is that the death of every soldier in every war counts, not just the deaths in a war that is won. Soldiers of the Vietnam War don't matter? The Korean? If you're going to stand by Bush's argument, you must argue that the deaths of U.S. soldiers in those wars were meaningless and didn't count because we didn't win. Two, while the Bush administration calls upon us to support the troops, he signed bills cutting Vet benefits early on in the war. This drives me absolutely batty and I am furious at the media for not being all over that; they should constantly be reminding us that Vet benefits were cut early on in the war. (I don't know the specifics of the cuts but will look into them. I spoke to an Iraq Vet who says the benefits are pretty good right now medically, at least in Illinois. He believes this to be more for political reasons than support of the troops and he is, sadly, most likely correct. He is an advocate of the war, for the record, and we had a good discussion about it; of course, he has firsthand knowledge on which I can't comment or relate.)

It is not soldiers fighting for their beliefs which makes their duty admirable; rather, it is that they put those beliefs aside. They are willing to go into battle regardless of opinion. They put their lives on the line; their faith in the hands of their government and citizens to decide how their lives are best served. They trust both completely and unquestionably, unfettered in their decision to serve. It is a soldier's willingness to waive opinion and decision-making that makes him or her worthy of nothing less than our highest respect and admiration. I could never give up my right to have an opinion, which is another reason why I greatly respect those who do in order to serve. It is our duty as citizens to make sure that our government does not abuse or misuse soldiers' trust. It is our duty to make sure their needs are met when they return home, having served us in the greatest way possible. We have dropped that ball.

I believe the Internet to be a great way for everyday average people like me and you to make a difference. More so than ever before, we can impact decision making and raise funds for charity. You don't have to be a wealthy philanthropist to help those in need; yet, you can do more than send a few dollars. I thought about this after seeing that commercial for the war. I thought about it all day Tuesday. What can I do to help vets? How can I assist them? What skills do I have that I can offer them in service?

The answer hit me Tuesday afternoon. Ebay. It occurred to me that I can solicit any celebrities in my book, whether part of a story or just mentioned in passing, to sign a copy. I can then auction that copy off on Ebay and donate the proceeds to a VA fund. Will I raise a lot of money? Any money? Who knows but it is my duty to try. I also want to do this because my father died a few years ago. He was a Korean War Vet and the soldiers at his service, none of whom knew him, were very honorable and respectful to me. This is a way I can help repay their kindness.

I will keep you posted on this project as it develops. I will try contacting the celebrities via their agents and myspace sites. I may post on the blog, asking if anyone knows who someone's agent is; it's not always easy to find out! (I also plan to get a copy signed by them all for NAMI's March 2008 auction--The National Alliance for Mental Illness, and donate the proceeds specifically to children with mental illness. I've been supporting NAMI as often as possible for the last few years.)

Speaking of charity, I've been getting emails from fans of the book asking how they can help spread the word about it and my "Lunch is Not a Date" column. I've been thinking about that, too. I grew up hanging out in libraries, often taking my little sister there and reading her book after book in the children section. It was really cute; she'd go choose a bunch based on the pictures, then return and shove her fingers in her mouth as I read them to her. Libraries don't have a big budget and accept donations. They are a great place for readers to discover a book. If you want to help the book out, please take a moment and help a library out, too. Simply order a copy of God is a Woman: Dating Disasters off Amazon and have it mailed to your local library. Choose "gift" and write "donation" on the card. You'll be helping your library while you spread the word. Thanks everyone for your continued support. It is all very flattering and again, most of the book's success is due to your word of mouth.

It's Important Because it's There

2007-08-29T10:06:00.000-07:00

This will become one of my favorite philosophies. (Oh yeah, I'm back from my trip.) One of the spots we camped at was Yellowstone, where there is still controversy over the reintroduction of wolves, who have now apparently spread across Wyoming, Idaho, Montana, and parts of Colorado. Experts are hoping they will reach Rocky National Mountain Park, where they have decided not to reintroduce them because of the hassle (creating a fund to compensate ranchers for lost livestock and such). Wolves are spreading quickly in part because of the overpopulation of food, particularily elk and deer. The big question those against the wolves pose is always the same: "Why is the wolf important?" In general, why is anything in nature important? Answer: It is important because it is there. Nature knows what it is doing, just leave it alone. Consider that with the reintroduction of wolves, elk populations are being kept in check (Elk can easily overgraze an area, in turn helping to increase flooding and mud slides). Coyotes, carriers of rabies and pests themselves, who have killed far more pets than wolves ever did pets or livestock, and who seem to thrive with human civilization, are being killed by wolves left and right. In Yellowstone, wolves have killed more than half the coyote population, either directly or by lowering the number for birthing. In turn, other animals--whose food sources have been over eaten by coyotes for generations--are making a strong comeback. Bobcats, foxes, lynxes, badgers, and hopefully fishers, martens, and other such critters will re-surge in numbers. Also, according to some info I read regarding east Canadian wolverine populations, the reintroduction of wolves could very well help reintroduce wolverines, who rely heavily on wolf kills for scavenging purposes. (Wolverines are primarily scavengers.) It's important because it's there.

Here are a few pictures from the trip, which was awesome by the way; absolutely awesome. If you like animals, you'll find plenty here. Here's some voclanic activity in Yellowstone. We drove all the way to Yellowstone from Cody, only to find upon arrival that the East entrance was closed due to a forest fire. We had to go all the way back to Cody (over 50 miles of mountain driving) and head from there up to the Northeast entrance of the park (another 50 miles of driving). We were annoyed there were no signs posted by the park service anywhere about the closure or news about it on their radio station. When we got back to Cody, we went to eat dinner at a Subway in a Walmart. Look what was on the door (it turned out not to be a big deal; the drive to the other entrance was spectacular and well worth it; we wouldn't have seen it without the closure). Some people feed a Wild Burro in South Dakota, in the Black Hills. This was the most awesome thing on the trip. I was sitting on the curb, waiting for my friend Greg at the car. A man rushed toward me with his camera. I turned around to see what had him so excited (at first I assumed he had read God is a Woman and wanted my autograph, of course). There, fifteen feet away from me, was a young adult wolf. I was immediately overcome with awe. He looked at me for a few moments, then gaited effortlessly away, covering lots of ground with long, easy strides. I then snatched up my camera and followed. He looked at me again, given me a great shot, then gaited away, vanishing in but a moment. I did a little research to be sure it was a wolf because wolves have a tendency to look very different from one another, and sometimes coyotes are mistaken for wolves. The coyotes in Yellowstone are big but nowhere near the size of the wolf. He was easily more than three times the size of the coyotes we saw there. I found several similar photos of wolves in books and also learned that coyotes and wolves interbreed in the wild, making identification difficult. My wolf looks slightly different than the wolves we saw through high-powered telescopes in the park; while that is most likely due to the wolf being young, it could also well be that I saw what I now call a "woyote"--the product of a wolf and coyote who shacked up. A couple woodpeckers. We drove through lots of blowing sand in Idaho. Notice how small and sleek wild squirrels are, compared to the fat, lazy ones in cities. Just a simple mountain stream. This is what I look like after a week of not showering or doing my hair. (Ladies, this is also how I look the next morning.) The tundra in Rocky Mountain Park (area above the treeline on a mountain). The rarely seen pika, a critter that lives in the tundra. It is often heard barking high pitch squeaks but rarely seen, let alone photographed. This prairie dog in South Dakota was certainly sitting in a funky position. Some pronghorn in South Dakota. A raven, which is basically a large crow. These things may be the smartest animals on earth next to humans and dolphins. They can mimick sounds and voices and have one of the largest thought-processing areas in their brain. In one case, a guy who stocked his fish pond with large gold fish (essentially carp) kept losing them and couldn't figure out why. No one fished in the pond and it was surrounded by a fence. He decided to hide and watch. A raven that was being fed pieces of bread in a nearby park flew over to the pond with a few pieces of said bread in its mouth. It then dropped the bread into the pond. The fish came up to the surface to eat the bread, whereupon the raven swooped down and plucked one out of the pond for a better meal than bread. We could use one of these guys right now, eh? A nice view with a mountain lake. I'm very excited because a guy sold me this lake for fifty dollars! Come by anytime, especially if you're a woman. No swimsuits required in my lake. Old Faithful in Yellowstone. An osprey. This looks like ice but it's actually hot sulfur from the ground that comes up through hot springs. Cool sunset. Bullwinkle. Another mountain lake. Climb to the top of Deer Mountain in Rocky Mountain Park and this is your reward. Or just look at the picture. A fox. I feel very lucky to get this shot. While I've seen about a dozen foxes in the wild, never have I gotten a photo of one. They always take off so quickly, there is no time to get a shot off. I actually got video of this one hunting and killing a mouse. Another trip highlight: A grizzly with four cubs. After the pictures I tried to put up a video of mom and the cubs but it wouldn't work; I'll get one up on YouTube with other animal videos I took and post here when they're up. A hailstorm in the mountains. A blue heron. Hiking in the South Dakota Badlands. This sign sits on the Continental Divide and explains what it is for those who don't know. There is always one moronic driver who wants to go around, thinking that people just stop in the middle of the road for no reason. An elk calf with mom. A herd of elk in Rocky Mountain Park. Man, these things are everywhere out there. No wolves, the local cougars prefer mule deer mostly, and black bears can't catch elk too effectively. Think I was lying? This is Estes Park, just outside Rocky Mountain Park. A dozen elk walked into town one sunny afternoon, as bunches do almost daily. They even rut in town in the Fall, coming down from the overcrowded park. Still think they don't need wolves? All these elk do is eat; constantly! It took this guy three hours to figure out how to get into this cabin. An elk calf. A coyote. Notice the different facial shape from the wolf, as well as the shorter legs, smaller feet, and different build. This guy was in Rocky Mountain, where the coyotes supposedly have gotten big enough to form packs and attack elk (larger than even Yellowstone coyotes). The packs must number like a thousand or something; I don't see how else they could take one down. This guy was less than a third the size of the wolf I saw, who was a young adult wolf at that. This lady was starving when we came upon her. We were glad the animal got there first. Getting a little wet. That mountain spring water is freezing cold but quite refreshing. South Dakota Badlands National Park. A bison. Got some short video of a few fighting. Pretty cool. A herd of bison. We had to stop for a huge herd crossing the road all night long one night in Yellowstone. Such as... A bull elk tries to figure out what is on his butt and if his health insurance will cover its removal.

I highly recommend visiting the national parks, especially Yellowstone, Glacier (didn't hit that one this trip but it is the most wild and rugged in the U.S.) and Rocky Mountain. As you can see, I'm a big animal buff. The trip actually gave me a great idea for a kids book to help younger kids understand, appreciate, and adore nature. I'm pretty psyched about it and am adding it to my list of projects. Seriously, get out and see these places. They are far beyond the justice of any photos or descriptions.

Vacation!

2007-08-08T16:14:00.000-07:00

Hey All,

I will be heading out for vacation tomorrow and won't be back on the Internet until Aug. 27; doing some serious camping out in Yellowstone and the surrounding area. I apologize in advance for the long absence but I should have some great photos to share. I may also have some big news... You'll have to wait until the end of August... Until then, check out some great blogs at Legal Pub, Ze Frank, and Singled Out. Good stuff!

-Ian

How to Get Her to Return Your Phone Call

2007-08-04T18:42:00.000-07:00

This is an article I wrote for E-zine. I also posted it by request on The Mystery Method Forum. BTW, the Lifetime site is up and running, revamped. You can see my first two answers to women's dating questions here:

http://www.lifetimetv.com/lifestyle/relationships/dating/dating-guy-rebound

http://www.lifetimetv.com/lifestyle/relationships/family-friends/cheating-or-innocent-meeting

Ladies, please send in your questions to Lifetime or me. I will answer them as part of Lifetime (if it is one they send me) or in my column, separately. I think guy's will back up that my answers are solid and accurate.

Okay, here's the article:

If I see one me article about how to get a woman’s phone number, I’m going to punch someone in the face. Seriously; it won’t be the writer, just the next person I see. POW! I’ll punch them right in the face . . . then run away really fast.

When it comes to getting a woman’s number, I’ve seen it all, from asking “write down your email, oh, and while you’re at it, put your number there, too” (she knows what your up to) to literally demanding the number if she won’t give it to you. Then there’s the inevitable debate about when is too soon to call and when is too late; the standard is to wait between three to five days. There are scores of articles and discussions about how to get digits, and when to call; not one about how to make sure she returns your call, mostly because the experts don’t have an answer. Getting digits doesn’t mean squat. How many times have women not called back? Are you after a number or a date? I want a date; thus, I need her to return my call. So, I don’t worry about getting digits.

I concern myself only with the conversation—listening to her and responding, inserting flirtatious comments when there’s an opening. If I’m still interested, I take something in the conversation and ask her out with it. For example, perhaps she mentioned she hasn’t been to a basketball game in a while or wants to check out some new Italian restaurant. I suggest we go—“You know that restaurant sounds really good. Let’s check it out. How about next week?” or “I haven’t been to a b-ball game in ages, either; you know, I think the Bulls are in town next week, let’s go to a game. What’s your number? I’ll check the schedule and call you.” (I live in Chicago.) The typical answer is, “Ah, yeah, I think I can do that; I need to check my schedule first.”

I get the digits and continue the conversation. Why? Because I enjoy her company and because I come off like a hit and run driver if I rush off immediately after getting her digits. Also, it’s quite possible that I’ll get something more than digits. If I realize nothing is going to happen that night, or that I don’t want anything to happen, yet; a little later in the conversation I end it, tell her it was nice meeting her, and remind her I will be calling her about the game or the restaurant or whatever. I’ve accomplished a few things.

One, I’ve shown her that I am paying attention to her. A lot of guys focus too much on their game and not enough on the woman. In fact, many guys really aren’t comfortable with women; they’re comfortable with their game. Those are two very different things. Women notice this and one of their biggest complaints is that guys don’t pay attention to them, more commonly stated as “men are clueless.” Two, I’ve made myself memorable. Who knows how many guys she’s going to meet the night I met her or between that night and the time I call? I need to stand out. Third, I’ve created a reason to call which involves a deadline; I don’t have to worry about calling too soon and how she might interpret that because I have a clear reason. Fourth, I’ve practically guaranteed she will return my call because, if nothing else, there is a very strong chance she will feel obligated to call and cancel our tentative date. The bigger the first date I suggest, the greater the odds she will feel obligated to call me to cancel. I’ve suggested expensive theater, concerts, and the symphony as a first date; way too much but that’s where the conversation went. Fifth, I’ve come off showing lots of confidence, which women tend to prefer. Finally, with her return call, I have the opportunity to reconnect, which is what I’m really after.

I use this practice a lot. It’s been at least four years since a woman hasn’t returned my call. When she does return my call and we reconnect, the result is me usually suggesting a simpler date, like a drink or dinner. I won’t pretend that I’ve always gotten the date; I haven’t. I do get the date about eighty percent of the time, though. Those aren’t bad numbers—100% returned calls and 80% dates from those calls. Like anything else, it takes practice. If you suggest something big like the symphony in the wrong way, you’ll come off looking desperate, so start smaller. (My background is standup comedy; trust me, timing and delivery are far more important than the actual material.) If she talks about the symphony, for example, ask her if she likes other music; suggest an open mic night at a coffee house or something similar in reply.

This technique isn’t based on them being women or manipulation; it’s based on them being human and common courtesy. If, as a guy, I met you out tonight playing darts or something and you mentioned you were a huge Sox fan, and I told you I had a friend who might have a couple extra tickets to the game next Thursday and asked if you were interested, got your number and told you I’d call when I knew for sure either way, would you not be expecting a call? Would you not return my call to decline or accept the tickets? One of the best things I ever learned was to treat a woman I liked as little like a woman as possible and as much like an average person I met, as possible. The more I like the woman, the harder that is to do; but, the more I like her, that is precisely when it is most important for me not to treat her differently.

Quit focusing on your game and getting digits; instead, focus on listening, responding, and getting a date. You’re not in a race to get her number or to move on to the next woman—at least you shouldn’t be; get comfortable with women, not your “game.”

Rem Fm Upcoming and Wikipedia

2007-07-30T08:53:00.000-07:00

Hope this finds you well and your wknds were good. I just wanted to give a heads up to those interested:

I am scheduled to be on the Mary Harboe Show on Rem Fm radio this Thursday, Aug 2nd at 2:20pm local time, during the Book Show segment. It should last about ten minutes. Rem Fm is the largest English speaking radio station out of Spain and the program airs across the Med. In Chicago time, I will be on at 7:20am. Hannah set it up; thanks, Hannah! Should be a lot of fun and I look forward to it.

Also, I discovered recently that I have been added to Wikipedia. Pretty cool! If one of you out there did that, I owe you a thanks. It was, to say the least, very unexpected.

She was the Real Feature

2007-07-27T13:28:00.000-07:00

Here's the latest standup story. I've also posted it on the site, where there is a print version, too.

I had only been doing comedy for a year when I finagled my way into The Laugh Factory in Aurora, roughly an hour west of Chi-Town. I had been having a tough time getting on the slate for the club’s Sunday open mic night. Ens, the open night booker and assistant manager, didn’t feel I had enough experience. One night at Northern Illinois, AJ Jamal appeared as part of a week of comedians in the Carl Sandburg Auditorium. Originally, I was slated to open for him but then HBO intervened. They realized he would draw a big crowd (he was doing a lot of MTV back then) and wanted to capitalize on it. They brought in some guy to open for him and taped his set for an HBO special, then closed up shop and AJ came onstage. It was funny; the guy they filmed the special of couldn’t have been more different from AJ. He was white, wore a suit and tie, and was a political act. AJ is black, wears jeans, and could care less about politics. In the end, HBO bumped me out of the show to film a useless special because the crowd was all wrong for their guy. Dah!

I didn’t let being bumped stop me from telling Ens I was opening for AJ Jamal at NIU. With that news, he gave me a slot. “AJ and I are good friends; I’ll ask him how it went.”

This should have made me nervous, except I knew by then that every club booker and manager thought he was good friends with every name comedian. It was rarely the case. I had my best show to date at Laughs and after the set a guy named Mikey approached me in the back of the club. “I have a club on the north side of Chicago. We need a feature act for next Saturday night. I think you’d be perfect.”

I should have been wary of a guy offering me a thirty-minute feature slot based on watching me do a five-minute set. I should have been wary of a guy who didn’t have his show booked less than a week out from the gig. I should have been wary of a guy who said he’d call me Thursday with the address of the performance. Hell, I should have been wary of an adult who went by the name “Mikey.” I wasn’t wary, not from any of the red flags. I was going to feature! Nothing else mattered.

Since I only had about fifteen minutes of good material, I spent the week writing and rehearsing my ass off. I was eighteen—stupid enough to bite off more than I could chew—and loving every minute of it. I was also scared to death. I prepared exactly thirty minutes of material . . . well, thirty minutes if the audience laughed at every joke for at least thirty seconds . . .

The night of the show came. My friend, Pete, drove me. For the life of us we could not find the damn club. We looked everywhere for the big sign Mikey told me would read “The Comedy Jam.” We walked up and down the block it was supposed to be on but saw nothing. This was not doing anything for my nerves. I was already a nervous wreck because I knew I was cutting it close with the mic time. Now I was going to be late for the show because I couldn’t find the club? Suddenly, we saw the sign. It was sitting doorknob high. I am being generous calling it a sign. It was an old piece of brown cardboard, a little more than the size of a piece of letter-sized paper. Someone had scrawled “The Comedy Jam” with a red crayon. Ah, this was going to be great!

Upon entering the club, we found a pretty nice setup. There was a small stage and a bunch of tables in a room the size of a beauty salon. Mikey was the only other person there. He sat us down in the back and we waited for the show to start, me worried to death.

“Dude, stop shifting around.”

“Sorry, Pete; I’m nervous as hell.”

And we waited. And waited. And waited. The show was supposed to start at 8:30pm. At 9:15pm, the other three or four acts entered. One of them carried a dirty, old toilet bowl. At 9:30pm we still didn’t have an audience. Mikey went out onto the street and pretty much begged people to come to the show. When we had ten, at around 10:30pm, he declared the show would be starting. Half of the crowd had just been sitting there for nearly an hour; they were not in a good mood.

To make matters worse, Pete had left. He had to have the car home by midnight and lived about an hour outside the city. I had no way to get home and nowhere near enough money for a cab. Once I got paid, I’d have to use almost all of it to cover cab fare.

The emcee died a horrible death. The first act died a horrible death. The guy with the toilet, who carried it up on stage but then didn’t even address why he had it (he literally did nothing with it), did worse than die. I’m sure he wished he could have flushed himself down it and out of the club.

I was panicking. My heart was racing, my palms were sweaty, I literally considered running out the door. This gig was horrible. The crowd didn’t even want to be there. They weren’t laughing at all, which meant I was going to go through my thirty minutes of material in ten minutes, then not have a damn thing to talk about.

Just before it was my time to die, a gorgeous blonde with a fantastic body entered the “club.” She wore a white blouse and a short jean skirt. She was probably in her mid-twenties. She asked to be seated up front. Well, maybe something good would come from the gig after all; I might just meet a pretty woman. Of course, if I bombed, she’d have no interest in me.

I was introduced and prepared for hell. Surprisingly, the crowd laughed at my first joke. And my second one. And my third. I was going to be okay! They were digging me. About five minutes into the act, I looked at the blonde. She smiled, then licked her lips seductively. Huh? Had I just imagined that? Nope, because now she was opening her legs slowly. She was wearing white panties. She then slowly closed her legs.

Okay, well, that was interesting. I went on with my set. Of course, I looked over at her again. This time she blew me a soft kiss and again slowly opened her legs. Of course I looked. It was a recipe for disaster. Realizing she was going to do this every time I looked at her, I decided not to look. As soon as I made this decision, I started looking more. She kept at it.

Fifteen minutes into the set, I was basically just staring at her. I didn’t even know what I was saying but I had rehearsed so many times, I just regurgitated the next bit after I heard the laughter subsiding. The nameless blonde got up and went back to the restroom. Thank God! (I never thought I’d be glad when a woman with legs every guy in the world would want wrapped tightly around him, who was showing me just how far up her legs went, left the room. But I was.)

I got back into the act and was enjoying myself. She returned. Was she still playing the game? I looked. Oh, things had changed; she had upped the anti; she was no longer wearing the panties. Now I was in serious trouble. I couldn’t control myself and felt my general starting to salute. Thank God I was wearing a tucked-in, collared shirt. I stared at her crotch and un-tucked the shirt to hide my erection, a move every guy learns in high school, when the sight of something as simple as a cheerleader in her colors bending over to pick up her books in the hallway can cause a guy’s soldier to prepare for battle, instantly.

Of course, un-tucking the shirt was not enough. I had to adjust so that it was pointing up, instead of out. I put my hand in my pocket, pretending to be doing a bit, and moved it to the proper position. I went on with my act, trying hard not to think about how much fun the blonde and I were going to have after the show. It was going to be awesome! My first time was going to be with a hot blonde who had everything a guy could want, sexually.

A few minutes before I was about to get off stage, and then got off with the blonde, she got up and went back to the bathroom. She was probably going to buy some condoms. Yippee!

I finished my set and got off stage. I waited in the back for her. Nothing. Another women went into the bathroom, which was a single, so I knew she wasn’t in there. Hmm. I asked Mikey if he had seen where she went. “Oh, she left just before you finished.” What?! Hell, no!

I raced out of the club, still aroused. I trekked up and down and around the block. Nothing. I peeked through the windows of every nearby bar and restaurant. She was nowhere in sight. I went back to the club and waited in vain. Eventually, I admitted to myself she had just been toying with me the whole time. She was simply trying to throw me off my game onstage with her own game.

I did learn one very important thing that night—I could get through any distractions in a show if I could get through hers. It was small consolation at the time. Mikey paid me at the end.

“Nice job, feature.”

I smiled. Only I had seen the real feature of the night

#1 in Canada!

2007-07-24T12:28:00.000-07:00

I'm supposed to put up another standup story on the site today but it will have to be delayed. Yesterday, the book hit #1 on the bestseller list on Amazon.ca for humor books! What does that mean? It outsold every other humor book on the site, even the ones by people such as Don Rickles and Woody Allen, by big publishers. Unreal! Thanks for all your support everyone! I will be spending sometime trying to get this info to Canadian media. BTW, at the same time, the book ranked #8 in humor bestsellers on Amazon.co.uk in Europe. Not a bad day! (This doesn't mean I've sold thousands and thousands of books; just outsold other books on that day, but we're hoping... ;)

No Trip to Wrigleyville for Me

2007-07-19T10:07:00.000-07:00

(I just put this story up on the site, www.godisawoman.net. You can find a printable version there.)

Billy Jaye is a popular comedian in the industry. He’s been around for a long time. He has a classic style; he typically just sits on a stool drinking a beer and delivers his material, engaging the crowd at will, then jumping right back into his act. He’s not Jim Carrey, jumping wildly around stage making faces and contorting his body, or Dane Cook, telling long stories while interrupting himself. He has no hook. He just does what he does, calmly and effectively. His material and delivery make the show. Billy’s been around much longer than most acts, even the big name celebrity ones, and he’ll be along when most of their stars have faded, such as Arsenio Hall’s. Off stage, Billy is just like he is on stage; he sits, drinking a beer, and makes witty observations as jokes during conversations. When he sees a moment to amuse himself, he takes it. Working with me and another act who annoyed him, gave him one such moment.

I was nineteen, going to school at Northern Illinois University in DeKalb, Illinois, about an hour west of Chicago. It was a Monday. I got a phone call from an agent telling me she needed an emcee for a Wednesday through Sunday gig at a new comedy club in Kankakee, Illinois, about an hour south of Chicago. I had two tests and a paper due (which I hadn’t started) between Wednesday and Friday. There is no way I could afford to miss any classes that week. So, I took the gig.

I don’t remember the name of the club or the feature act (the feature act performs between the emcee and the headliner), but I do remember Billy. I met him just before I went up to open the show. He was short, stocky, in his forties, hid his large bald spot with a cap, very friendly, and laid back. Being pretty new to standup, I was still nervous before going on stage. I’ve never worked with anyone who put me at ease as much as Billy. He asked me if I was nervous, I told him the truth, and he made a few comments that totally relaxed me. I had the most easy, relaxing set to date at the time, and that set the tone for all of my future sets. When I got off, he finished the job by telling me I was very funny and a very talented writer.

The week went great. Billy took me to dinner a few times, told me some good road stories, and we shot pool a few times. All three acts stayed at the Days Inn across the street from the club and a sports bar, so we all knew in which rooms the other two acts stayed. I was learning a lot from Billy and soaked up as much as I could remember. He even managed to make me forget about the two tests and paper on which I was taking zeros.

As much as Billy liked me, he equally disliked the feature act. The guy—we’ll call him Chuck—was a hack; he told old stock jokes, jokes he stole from other acts who turned out to be friends of Billy, and performed material that had been done to death, like jokes about killing Gilligan in order to get off the Island. To make matters worse, Chuck was in his thirties and had just returned to comedy after taking a seven year hiatus. Hardworking, sustaining acts such as Billy like to see young kids—like I was then— working hard to get mic time, honing their skills, and sticking with it. “You could be at school drinking beer and chasing girls, but instead you’re out here building character and securing a career for when you graduate. You’ll learn a lot more on stage and on the road then you will in any college.” At the time, I didn’t fully appreciate how true Billy’s statement was, but I did just a few years later.

Hardworking, sustaining acts such as Billy detest acts that quit; who give up when the going gets tough, then return later, when they’ve saved up some money or the business has gotten better, made that way by the acts who ride the bumps. Chuck had zero points with Billy. He didn’t get too many with me, either. One night after the show, we all went out with the club staff to a bar down the road. There I was able to engage in some conversation with a very pretty waitress named Sally. She was an undergrad, too, and quite smart, studying pre-med. She was tall with a lean, killer bod, nice full red lips, long eyelashes, short black hair, and deep blue eyes. If you read God is a Woman, you know just how pathetic and awkward I was around women at nineteen. It took every ounce of thought and courage I had to strike up a conversation with her. Said conversation was far from smooth; it was awkward and littered with moments of silence that seemingly lasted for hours.

It didn’t help matters that Chuck was also interested in Sally. There were plenty of women his own age at the bar, but no, he chose to chase down one who was nineteen. He looked foolish. Looking back at it a few years later, I realized that Chuck was just as awkward with women as me; he just disguised it better and waited for either me or Billy to break the ice with a woman before he talked to her. Both of us annoyed by him, Sally and I relocated a few times but he followed us. Billy saw what was going on and stepped in, pulling Chuck aside to bullshit with him. When Chuck returned a few minutes later, Sally commented that she was tired and needed to get going. I summed up the strength of my courage and invited her to lunch the next day at the sports bar, where we would also shoot some pool. She accepted and we set the time. I was pleased that I had not only managed to ask her out and secure a date, but that I had done it in front of another guy. (Standup comedy is the only gig in the world in which lunch qualifies as a date, because of having to work date nights.)

The next day, at the date, who should show up? Yup; fucking Chuck. He wouldn’t leave us alone and ended up instructing her in pool. He kept telling her how pretty she was and asked if she liked older men. I didn’t know how to deal with cockblockers back then, let alone cockblockers who were my seniors in the biz. It was Sally who suggested another place. Chuck actually remarked, “That’s a good idea. Where should we go?”

I looked at him. “I think we’re just gonna go somewhere,” then to Sally, “What’s around here?”

She shrugged, “There’s really not much time to do anything because I have to get ready to be at the club in a few hours.”

“We could just go back to my room and watch a movie or some TV.”

“That sounds good.”

We left Chuck, or at least thought we did; he followed us out, back to the hotel, trying to interject in our conversation from behind as we walked. We reached my room and I told him, “I’ll see you at the show tonight,” before closing the door.

This is where I demonstrate just how stupid and naïve I was with women back in college. There I was, back in my hotel room with a beautiful coed, both of us sitting on my bed with two hours to kill. What do I do? Turn on the TV. What does she say? “I don’t really want to watch TV.”

“Oh, okay; I’ll see about a movie.”

“I don’t really want to watch a movie, either; let’s just talk.”

“Okay, that’s cool.”

Of course, she didn’t really want to just talk. So what did I do? Started babbling like brook with nowhere to go; I went on pointlessly. I don’t remember how it happened, but after a few moments, I was sifting through her purse while she watched over my shoulder. Lo and behold, I came across two condoms. She took them out of the purse, “I don’t know why I even have these; just to have them, I guess. I never use them.”

This is why it is very important to heed actions over words and to pay attention. I heard, “I don’t want to have sex;” however, she’s in my hotel room, right next to me on the bed, with two fucking condoms in her purse, which, I might add, were brand spanking new. There wasn’t as much as a crease in their wrappers, which meant she had only recently placed them into her purse, not carried the around, as she had claimed. At the time, I hadn’t realized that women need an excuse to have sex outside of a meaningful, lengthy relationship. So, instead of making the move for which she was waiting, I sifted through the rest of her purse. She put the condoms back in the purse and closed it.

We sat in dead silence for a few minutes. She checked her watch. “Well, I should get going.”

“Oh, okay.”

I walked her out. Outside, I decided I needed to make a move. I leaned in to kiss her and she responded with a quick peck. We smiled at each other and I leaned in again. We kissed for a few seconds, then she left. I went back to my room while she drove home, no doubt wondering why she really had bothered to bring condoms. I checked the clock by the bed. So much for having two hours to kill; it was only fifteen minutes after Sally and I had first entered the room. She realized I was clueless and got bored. Way to go Ian; good job.

That night, I didn’t speak to Sally until after the show. I invited her out but she declined, which bummed me out because it was the last show of the week and I would be heading back to DeKalb early the next morning, to take a test I really couldn’t miss. Instead, I hit the sports bar with Billy, Chuck, and the rest of the staff. While I was there, a guy challenged me to a game of pool. He was scruffy looking, around forty. He had some weird facial hair going on; it looked like a squirrel or something had died on his face and he just maneuvered it around some to make space for his mouth and nose, so he could eat and breathe. His name was Dave.

“So, you’re one of the comedians at the club this week?”

“Yeah.”

“Where you from?”

“Chicago.”

“Ever been to Wrigleyville?”

The way he asked set off an alarm inside me. Wrigleyville is known for being a popular gay area in Chicago. This guy was gay and he was interested.

“No, never; I’ve never even been to a Cubs game.”

“Oh.”

He then offered me some blow. I declined. He offered me weed. I declined. This went on for a while, him offering me all kinds of things I had never heard of while we shot pool, when he really just wanted to offer me himself. He kept buying me beers (don’t worry, I realized he was trying to get me drunk). Finally, he broke down. “I don’t know if you figured this out yet or not but I’m gay and I’m interested in you.”

“I know. Sorry, but I’m not gay.”

“Oh. Do you want to stop shooting, then?”

“No, we can keep playing pool; just realize that I’m not gay, so nothing is going to happen.”

“Oh. That’s good of you and quite understanding. I appreciate it.”

I always figured it’s hard enough to be gay, let alone tell when someone else is and make a move. I wasn’t going to hold that against him. Suddenly, I heard Billy yelling. I turned around to see him chewing out Chuck for being a hack, not only on stage but with women. Chuck left and Billy called to me, “Hey, Ian, come over here.”

I sat with Billy for an hour or so; he gave me the number of his agent, Roger Paul, who would do some big things for me in the future. He gave me the numbers of some key club bookers. He gave me the numbers of some key comedians. He gave me his number. Most importantly, he gave me confidence. “Stick with it, kid, you got real talent. Fuck Chuck, that hack. I saw what he did to you last night when you were trying to talk with that waitress. He did the same thing to me tonight when I was trying to talk to some women. He’s never gonna work here or anywhere else I work, for that matter.”

Mental note: never piss off the headliner.

It was time for me to go. I thanked Billy and got up to leave. Dave approached. “Hey, you leaving?”

“Yeah, I gotta go. Good games.”

“Have you ever been with a guy?”

“No.”

“Then how do you know you ain’t gay?”

(I realize that, ironically, Sally probably thought I was gay or at least hiding in a closet.) “I haven’t been shot but I know I wouldn’t like that, either.”

“What room are you in at the Days Inn?”

(Everybody knew the comedians stayed at the Days Inn; Kankakee isn’t that big.)

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Come on, what room?”

“Take care, Dave.”

I left. The next morning I got up early, packed my crap, and prepared to head home. When I went to leave, I noticed someone had slid a note under my door. I picked it up.

Ian, once again it was an absolute pleasure. Good to see guys like you working your way up the comedy ladder. When I went to leave the bar, that guy asked me for your room number. I gave him Chuck’s.

Billy

I laughed my ass off for ten minutes, unable to do anything else. I felt bad for Dave but it was hilarious. Typical Billy; simple, subtle, but topnotch. Looking back now, I realize I could have gotten laid twice that day!

It wasn’t until years later that I heard what happened. I was working with a guy in Indiana and I mentioned the club in Kankakee, which had since closed. (It only lasted a few months; in comedy, you work new clubs quickly, while they’re still open, or you miss the boat.)

“Oh, shit, I know that club, I know that club! My friend Chuck was working there and the last night of the show, the strangest fucking thing I’ve ever heard in my life happened to him. It was like two in the morning, he was sound asleep, when there was a pounding on his door. He turned the light on and looked out the peephole. There was this guy standing there. The guy called to him, ‘I seen your light go on, I just want your autograph, buddy! I swear!’ My friend opened the door and the guy dropped his pants, I mean butt naked, showing everything, while he said, ‘This is what you’re missing! Hey, you’re not the guy I’m looking for!’ Chuck closed his door and yelled for the guy to go away, that he was calling the front desk to call the police.”

As hard as I laughed at hearing his story, and as satisfying as it was to finally learn what happened, I think it was even more interesting and funny for Chuck’s friend to hear the story in reverse; to hear the setup of the bizarre event from me. He laughed every time he looked at me for the rest of the week. He literally could not be around me, it was so funny to him and he couldn’t shake it from his mind.

I never did work with Billy again. We spoke several times over the years but I never got to tell him what happened; he moved and changed his number before I got a chance. If you see him, tell him the story; just don’t give him your room number; you never know who might show up at your door . . . if it’s Sally, call me, then tell her I finally have a clue!

Site Up and To Kill or Not To Kill

2007-07-17T08:49:00.000-07:00

Hey All,

As some of you may know, part of the reason I've been gone from my blog so much has been due to my website. I've been working hard to update it and I finally got it up. It now has a bunch of stories from the book up. It also has standup stories up, as well, not to mention my column "Lunch is Not a Date." I hope you get a chance to check it out and spread the word. For any of you using Expression (I've been using Expression; eventually I'll learn Dreamweaver, but for now time was of the essence) and you've noticed you've had trouble with the formatting (it tends to add underlines that it won't remove, change colors, and so forth), I learned a little secret: type what you want in FrontPage, then paste it into Expression and you won't have any trouble. Crazy but it works.

Yesterday, I was on my way to play some vball on the beach. I always walk down, about 1 1/2 miles from my place, and on the way I came across a bunch of seagulls, eating fries in the middle of the street. A car came speeding along the curve and hit one of the gulls. It lay there, still alive but unable to move. The car had hit it hard enough to push it out of the street. I stood there for a few minutes, watching the poor thing writhe and cry out in pain. I thought about kicking it back into the path of cars, where it would be finished off. In the end, I left it there, letting fate takeover. My question? Did I do the right thing? What would you do? Kill or not kill?

I'm the Bitch

2007-07-13T21:36:00.000-07:00

I promised a standup story a few weeks back. Here ya go. I'm starting to compile these for a future book, of just standup stories, not necessarily related to sex or dating, although a few of them will be, I'm sure. I have some good ones that didn't make it into God is a Woman because of length restrictions. (Of course, before any stories get into a book, they'll will be reviewed by my editor, so they won't be in the raw form they will be in here.)

If Paul Bunyan fucked Santa, Harry Hickstein would be the result. Harry stands well over six feet, has a beer gut that would make even the hardiest German beer drinker jealous— which he hides under a long, bushy biker beard—and a deep, gruff voice that drowns out even the loudest outboard motors. By comparison, I stand at a hair over five-ten, and back when I new Harry weighed a whopping 120 lbs. I don’t think I could have grown a beard back then if I had soaked my face in Rogaine daily.

Oftentimes, comedians will tour together, hitting the road for a week or two, and working all the same gigs. This keeps expenses down by splitting gas costs, as well as sharing the time behind the wheel. I rarely hooked up with anyone to hit the road; no one was willing to travel as extensively as I did. It’s just as well; being in a car together for ten or more weeks in a row would undoubtedly bring people to blows.

On occasion, over Winter Breaks during college, I would hook up with a few acts for a week or two and hit the road. Harry was one of those acts. He always used to joke, “You know, Ian, I don’t mind people knowing we’re traveling together; I guarantee, no one thinks I’m the bitch!” Mr. Big Stuff, his nickname, liked to say this as often as possible in front of people or onstage; it always got a good laugh. I always knew he was joking but I also made sure he knew I carried a six-inch hunting knife in my bag...

Truthfully, Harry is a great big teddy bear, who gets his biggest thrills by making people laugh. He often forgets how big he is and how he appears to strangers. We hooked up for a week long gig in Wisconsin during one of the coldest spells to ever hit the Midwest. Harry, who lives in Kankakee, Illinois—about an hour south of Chicago—picked me up and we headed north to Oshkosh, Wisconsin; where it was a balmy twenty-eight degrees below zero, Fahrenheit. With the wind chill, it was more than sixty below. It is absolutely ridiculous what conditions comedians will drive in to play a gig, even if it’s in Oshkosh or Fargo or International Falls or any other place where a witch’s tit wouldn’t go. (Oshkosh is Florida compared to Fargo and International Falls.) As we headed to the gig, I couldn’t help but think about my college peers, who were all partying with babes busting out of their skimpy bikinis down in Cancun (that was back before high school students turned Cancun into a party spot, when it was just college students). Me? I was a biker-wannabe’s bitch, traveling in a car where a dogsled would have been a more appropriate vehicle.

The next day was much warmer; the thermometer ascended all the way up to fifteen below. Harry and I headed down to Madison for the next gig. On the way, we came across a car with a serious problem—it was on fire. A flame was shooting from underneath the car, back to the gas tank. Due to the high rate of speed the car was traveling on the Interstate, the flame couldn’t quite ignite the gas tank. That same speed also kept the flame from reaching the engine, as the wind knocked it back; however, when that car stopped, its occupants needed to get out quickly.

In normal winter conditions, everyone on that road would have hailed the driver of the car and let him know his car was on fire. In the blistering cold, though, people just couldn’t be bothered. Harry took it upon us to save the people in the car. He sped up along side it, where we quickly discovered the occupants to be a little old man with his even littler wife in the passenger seat. The man could barely see over the steering wheel (that’s why senior citizens signal left all the time; they’re not signaling, they’re simply trying to pull themselves up with the turn signal rod, in order to see what the hell is going on!).

I rolled down the window and signaled to the old-timer. He finally rolled down his window and we started to shout back and forth. At seventy-miles an hour, we could not understand each other. We needed him to slow down some but we didn’t want him to slow down too much because the car could go up in flames in a matter of seconds. (This is back before there were cell phones, for all you young whipper-snappers.) He finally figured out that I wanted him to slow down enough so I could tell him something. He started to do so, when I leaned back to tell Harry what was going on and warm up my frozen face. The old man got a look at Harry, panic flooded his eyes, he rolled up his window and floored it. He must have figured we were scamming him to rob him and that Harry was the muscle. Figures, no one listens to the bitch.

Harry quickly realized the guy was heading for an exit. If he slowed down, it could be all over for him and his wife. Harry floored it and raced past them. He got into the exit lane and wouldn’t let them over, speeding up and slowing down with them. They sped up and raced to beat us to the next exit. Harry blocked them again. This went on for several miles of exits, along with Harry honking and yelling out his window at them. It didn’t help at all that he was the one talking to them now; I had a much better chance of getting them to listen.

The old man started to honk to get help from other drivers but no one cared. A few people did slow down, but once they got a look at Harry, they drove away. (Fortunately, this all happened close enough to Madison where they had a third lane to help lessen traffic congestion.) Finally, the little old lady rolled her window down. This is where Harry’s booming voice came in handy. “You’re car’s on fire! You’re cars on fire!”

The woman said something to her husband and he started to slow down. “Don’t slow down!” barked Harry.

He turned to me, “Shit, what do we do?”

“We need them to slow down enough to run over some snow on the shoulder without losing control, but not enough to let the flame catch the whole car.”

“Good thinking.”

He yelled out to them, “Switch with us and slow down a little! My friend will tell you what to do next!”

We swapped lanes and they got over into the right lane. Smoke started to fill the car as they slowed down. They still weren’t quite sure what was going on. It was my turn to yell again. “Keep slowing down, then run over some snow just off the shoulder!”

The old man nodded and did just that. The snow put the flame out but then he pulled back onto the shoulder to stop the car, which was now full of smoke. Harry stopped fifty feet in front of them and parked. As we got out of the car, we could see a much smaller version of the flame reignite under the carriage. The old man got out of the car, holding the keys. He shrugged, still unsure of the situation. Harry began to run to him, “Get away from the car! Get away from it!”

The old man fumbled with his keys and shook as he panicked, trying to get back into his car. He was trembling like a leaf and his keys fell to the street. I semi-yelled after Harry, “Ah, Harry, slow down. Harry, slow down!”
I was able to beat Harry to the old man. The two of us then showed him what had become a good-sized flame under his car. He got his wife and we hurried to our car. We dropped them off at a service station, then continued on our way like nothing had happened.

“You know, I think that guy had Parkinson’s or something, he was shaking so bad.”

I stared at Harry.

“What?”

“Harry, you scared the hell out of that guy; running toward him, telling him to get away from the car. Do you know what you looked like? That’s why he was shaking.”

Harry thought for a moment and then let out a guffaw that shook the ice off the outside of the car. “I never thought of that! Geez, I hope he was wearing Depends!”

I laughed and the two of us headed into Madison, Batman and Robin. Hey shut up, I’d rather be Robin than the bitch, okay? Although that’s probably not much of a step up...

More Reviews & "The Police"

2007-07-06T07:48:00.000-07:00

Here are two more reviews of the book that popped up yesterday on blogs. The first is more of the start of a discussion about whether dating advice books are any good; the second is an artistic review of the book. It is always interesting to see how different reviews can be and what people get from a work. I'm noticing the pattern more and more of people latching on to one or two parts of the book and exploring them, more so than the entire book. Personally, I've always found that to be the mark of a good work or at least one with depth; that different people got different things from it. Thus, I hope this pattern continues!

http://blog.seattlepi.nwsource.com/singleout/archives/117572.asp

http://www.cclapcenter.com/2007/07/book_review_god_is_a_woman_by.html

I'm also reposting the link to Legal Pub's review because there have been several more worthwhile comments since he posted it:

http://legalpublication.blogspot.com/2007/05/legal-pub-salutes-one-of-our-own.html

Still updating the book's site and it should come out really good in the end, with more book excerpts and lots of other features. I'll keep you posted...

All right, enough about the book. I went to The Police reunion concert last night at Wrigley Field in Chi-Town. If you want to feel young, go to this concert when it comes to your city. I was by far the youngest person there. People kept asking me where my parents were, if I was lost, would I like a balloon? At one point there was an announcement, "There is a lost little boy in section 239, row 18, seat 104. Could his mommy please go over there and claim him?" It was great! The concert? Well, that was okay. Rock stars tend not to take to much care of their voices and The Police are no exception. Sting (who I actually opened for back in my early twenties) had to use some alternate notes and creative harmony in places. All in all, it was a fun concert and, again, I was literally a kid among the crowd!

"Sicko"

2007-07-03T10:59:00.000-07:00

Michael Moore's latest. Seen it? I saw it the other day. It's quite good, exaggerated some, I'm sure, but quite good. Here are the key points that just piss me off:

The volunteer rescue workers, including volunteer fire fighters, at Ground Zero of 9/11 receive no healthcare from the government because they are not considered actual government employees. I remember all the rhetoric from the Pres. and everyone else in government--"Remember the heroes of 9/11, praise the heroes of 9/11."

Our government is cutting V.A. benefits during a war, yet telling the public to "support the troops." What a crock. (This is not in the movie but should have been.)

This is a related stoy my friend told me yesterday. (The movie Sicko is not about those who don't have health coverage as much as it is about those who have it but have their claims denied for bs reasons. This story is a great example.) My friend Steve has a friend who recently had a baby. The poor child has an ailment and needs serious medical help. The mother's insurance refuses to cover the care because the baby's condition could be related to genetics; therefore, the insurance company classifies the baby's condition as "pre-existing." Is that fucking unbelievable or what? It makes you just want to punch them in the face!

Lame Entry

2007-06-26T20:03:00.001-07:00

Admittedly,

This is a lame entry, save alerting you to a good dating blog; some good stuff. I am super busy right now. I am in the process of possibly setting up a new book, revamping the book's site, getting some posters made up for some bookstores, speaking with some PR places for possible representation, and so forth. Here is the site of a really good dating blog, though; check it out.

http://blog.seattlepi.nwsource.com/singleout/

Latest Article

2007-06-19T08:58:00.000-07:00

Here is my latest article:

http://gapersblock.com/detour/how_to_meet_at_chicago_summer_hotspots/

It is geared toward meeting people in Chicago over the summer but it is applicable pretty much anywhere. Good luck finding love this summer! Happy hunting, if nothing else.

Fuck... "Last Comic Standing" is Back

2007-06-17T20:01:00.000-07:00

I’m sitting here trying to get some work done (writing my “Lunch is Not a Date” column for July and answering interview questions for a Chicago magazine) and I have the TV on; I like a little background noise. What’s on? Last Comic Standing. This is without a doubt the stupidest thing that has happened to standup comedy since that whole alternative comedy movement (alternative to what? Apparently being funny). I am happy for comedian-turned-writer KP Anderson, who I worked with a few times years ago and who is one of the writers for the show. (A reality show for comedians with writers? Hmm, something is amiss.) But the show is horrible. There is one huge, gigantic, fucking major problem with it. I’m not talking about all these minor problems with it:

It has nothing to do with standup comedy. Comedians build their shows and develop their talents by traveling and working their asses off. Those are the ones that headline all over and of them, a select few do sitcoms and even a smaller number move on to movies. You don’t get funny by hanging out in one city like Los Angeles, hoping to get mic time. You don’t get funny by standing in line outside a club for a day.

The acts that do pretty well in the show are depicted as being new to comedy. Most have been doing comedy for ages. In season one, Ant did pretty well. He was doing comedy years before I started in 1990. Kathleen Madigan, from season two, had been on the Tonight Show previously and is well known in comedy (she’s also very, very funny).

The show doesn’t care about comedy at all; it cares about getting interesting characters into the house. Ant is a huge thief. In season one he got called out for doing a joke right out of the movie The Boiler Room by judge and fellow comedian Joe Rogan (host of Fear Factor). Joe was right; the bit was word for word out of that movie. It wasn’t just a similar concept, it was word for word the same bit. Ant played dumb. Despite his the blatant stealing, he advanced. He returned in season two and made it into the house, because he’s a good character to have living in the house. Forget that he’s a thief (that’s far from the only joke he’s ripped off), he’s good for the house. (NBC really fucked up by not having Ant in the house in the first season along with Rich Vos. That would have really created some good fireworks. Maybe the station thought the viewers would forget he was a thief by season two.) More evidence of pushing less funny acts over more talented ones was exhibited in season two, when, despite the overwhelming votes for certain acts by judges Drew Carey and Brett Butler, other acts won. Brett walked out while Drew complained that the network was using their names to get people to watch the show, then not using their votes. Gotta love Drew and Brett; they're never afraid to standup for something.

The fix is in for contestants. The season Drew Carey hosted, Monty Hoffman and Kathleen Madigan advanced. They were both repped by the same management company as Drew Carey. In fact, most of the contestants in general and some of the others who advanced were repped by that management company.

The show has writers. Writers for comedians? What are they writing? The comics’ acts, in part, I suppose.

The show makes comedians do stupid things that again have nothing to do with comedy, like performing comedy ad lib at a laundry mat or auditioning in front of three judges and no one else. These things will make you funny and prove you are funny if you already are, for sure…

The idea of the show is to bolster the winning acts’ comedy careers by getting them sitcoms and other such media roles. Jay Leno does a great job every season of pointing out, “Does anyone remember who the comedians were? Where are they now?” These season, former contestants are judges for the show. (I find hope in this; that other, bigger name acts not associated with the show declined to take part.) In fact, the only thing that contestants find different about their careers is that they get spots on future seasons as hosts, judges, or commentators. So much for bolstering their TV and media careers.

The show now gives you setups for old jokes. You call in to get the punchline and pay $ .99 for this call. (That’s the sign of a show that’s doing well; desperately reaching to sell something and having you call. It’s like you know a movie is going to be bad because in the commercial they talk more about who did the soundtrack than anything else.)

No, I’m not talking about those minor problems. I’m talking about this one major problem: Last Comic Standing kills standup comedy. That’s right, it kills it. It’s not funny. It’s not funny to watch a bunch of wannabe comedians audition with bad jokes. It’s not funny to watch a talented comedian perform for three judges. It’s not funny to watch a bunch of thirty second clips of comedians’ acts. It’s not funny to watch comedians in a house together. When you pitch a show about finding the best in standup comedy, viewers assume they are watching the best comedians in the biz on TV. When they don’t laugh, they figure, “Damn, if these guys aren’t funny, the ones at comedy clubs must be really bad.” Less people go to comedy clubs. When people don’t see these acts advance in their careers, less people go to comedy clubs. Don’t believe me? Comedy clubs are dying everywhere. They have comedy less nights of the week. They have closed many. In Chicago alone, there is Zanies. That’s it. There used to be the Laugh Factory, the Improv, The Funny Firm, Last Laff, The Comedy Womb, Wacko’s, Barrel of Laughs, Funseekers, Who’s on First, two Funny Bones, KJ Riddles, the Comedy Cottage, the Comedy Jam… get the point?

By partaking in Last Comic Standing, comedians are killing their own industry. They aren’t getting funnier by sitting in a house with other comedians, they get funnier by traveling and working the road; by seeing things that inspire more material, by working in front of real crowds, large and small, and in different areas with different tastes. The problem with the show is that comedians are killing standup comedy along with a network. The best comedians don’t do such shows; instead, they’re out on the road working in front of crowds, doing what they love. It doesn’t matter how good you do on the show, when you get in front of a live crowd, you need to be funny. They will eat you alive if you’re not. The club won’t have you back if you’re not. Other clubs, all three of them, will not have you at all as word of your suckiness (that’s a word) spreads. I think, if I have the time, there’s an idea here to put together an anti-Last Comic Standing tour together… that’s if Ant doesn’t quit the show and steal the idea from me first.

Payback's a Bitch, Sis

2007-06-11T13:35:00.000-07:00

I have two sisters. If you've read God is a Woman: Dating Disasters, you've read about the older one. You haven't read about the horrible things she did to me as a child, though. Unlike most people I know, whose siblings are within a few years of them, my older sister is six years older. Every younger brother or sister knows what that means--yup, I had no chance of defending myself and she could talk me into doing just about anything.

"Hey Ian, wash the dishes while I watch TV."

"No! It's your job to watch the dishes."

"I'll count and see how long it takes ya."

"Okay!"

"Hey Ian, stand under this tree that's really wet from last night's rainfall."

"No! You'll shake it and get me all wet."

"No I won't. There's a dollar under here, better beat me to it."

I did the dishes. I got soaking wet. Okay, I wasn't the brightest kid on the block, or apparently even in my house. The worst thing she did to me, though, was dress me up in her doll's clothes when I was a tot. Why is that so bad? Mom's take pictures of that nonesense and her acts of cruelty have been immortalized.

Ah, but with lots of patience and a little ingenuity, payback is inevitable.

This year marks the return of the Cicada. I don't mean the Cicada that returns annually, I mean the 17-year Beast, which returns only every seventeen years, in huge numbers. My sister, who now has three kids, stupidly had two boys, ages 10 and 4 this year. Foolishly, she has let them hang out with me a lot, even sleep over. The tykes look up to me. I let them play with my Star Wars figures from back in the day, legos, take 'em to the beach, the zoo, teach them baseball, football, hockey, let them stay up watching scary movies when they sleep over, and so forth. It's all part of my plan of payback, an elaborate scheme that involves the return of our friend, the 17-year Cicada.

Yesterday, I took my nephews out to the forest in the burbs, on a Cicada Safari. My sister was fine with it, not realizing the oldest snuck his "Grand Bug Hotel" with him, at my suggestion. Here are some pictures of the grand event. The first one is just a little branch of what we saw. The second struck fear in my sister as I told the ten-year-old to make like he was about to eat a cicada. The third almost made her pass out as her "baby boy" almost chewed up another cicada at my prompting. The fourth is actually a picture of the oldest freaking me out. He caught a bird. Can you believe that? A bird in his butterfly net.

"Hey, Uncle Ian, I caught a bird!"

"A bird? No you didn't."

Sure enough, he had.

"What are you going to do with a bird?"

"I don't know."

We let the bird go, only because I couldn't figure out how to get it home in the car and let it loose in my sister's place, where it would fly around, harrassing her.

The last picture is the best and my sister's expression was priceless--my two nephews proudly holding a container of their new 107 pets... Payback's a bitch, sis!

Too Small For The Job

2007-06-04T12:27:00.000-07:00

I was going to post a new story today, one which I intend to include in another book down the road. The book will contain stories of being a comedian and working on the road. Unlike God is a Woman: Dating Disasters, it won't include my dating and sexual misadventures. Plenty of funny things happen on the road that have nothing to do with sex and dating. They are hilarious stories, of course.

Instead, Legal Pub tells me that he's getting hits on his post which includes a blurb about my condom story from God is a Woman, where the condom is embarrassingly too big and I am embarrassingly too small. I've received some emails asking me about the story, too. So, instead of posting up the new story, which I'll do later this week or next Monday, I decided to put up the condom story, excerpted from the book. This will answer the emails and explain Legal Pubs post better to his readers. You'll have to read the whole book to find out what "Bounty Breasts" means... Have a good week!

While their customer service was great, the hair-restoring products the Asian girl’s office sold sucked. I found a new place, where I found myself attracted to an African-American. She, too, was attracted to me and we flirted constantly. I had no idea why these women at the hair clinics liked me. It probably had nothing to do with me and more to do with the fact that I had by far more hair than anyone else they saw all day. To them, I was Bon Jovi.

Her name was Aretha. She was average-figured with Bounty Breasts and a pronounced butt. She had a strong sarcasm and feistiness to her that I liked. We went out on a date to dinner and then to an elegant pool hall. We had planned to play pool for a few hours, but instead only played one game before hurrying back to her studio apartment. We sat on her sofa, me trying to figure out my move. She didn’t want to wait. She lay on her back and pulled up her sweater; there was no bra underneath. Her big breasts had nice, big nipples.

“Do you like my breasts? Are they firm?”

“Yeah, they’re beautiful.”

“You can’t tell by just looking.”

She grabbed my hand and placed it on her breast. It was quite mushy. She stood up and led me over to the bed, which was against a large, front window that nearly spanned the entire wall.

“You just want to fuck me.”

She took off her clothes and I followed suit. She opened an end table drawer by the bed. She took out a box of magnum condoms, and handed them to me. “Here.”

I took one condom out. Now, I don’t know if the stereotype is true or not, but the thing was huge. I barely started to unroll it when it just fell open on its own, it was so big. I bent down to my pants and started to pull out my own condoms.

“Uh-ah. We use mine or nothing happens. I don’t trust anyone else’s condoms.”

Reasonable. Given my own similar attitude, I couldn’t quibble with that. I put the condom on. I should have slid into a Christmas stocking, it would have been smaller.
“Jesus . . . do you have a rubber band?”

She looked at me with disappointment. Now, I am by no means small. Women either complain that I am too big, or beam declaring that I am just right. A lot of them whine about sore jaws when blowing me and some can’t manage to give me head at all, as their mouths are too small. But I was no match for the monster that belonged in this rubber. I lay on the bed and she rode me. The damn condom was so baggy I could barely feel anything. The incident was very unsettling and I came in less than a minute. Stupidly, I thought if I didn’t feel anything, maybe she couldn’t either. I kept letting her ride.

“Are you done?”

I nodded, embarrassed.

“Then what the hell are you doing?”

I shrugged, “I don’t know. I thought maybe you wouldn’t notice.”

She frowned at me. We paused for a few minutes, then I was ready to go again. I put on another garbage bag and we got back to it, this time with me on top. It lasted a little longer, but not much.

“This is crazy,” I said as I got up and grabbed my own condom.
I still had an erection and put it on. Ah, a good fit; this was more like it. I got on top of her, ready to finally give her a thrill, when a huge shadow appeared outside the closed curtains of the front window. A fist pounded on the same window, followed by a voice that boomed, “Aretha! Aretha, I know you’re in there! You better answer this door, girl!”

Aretha freaked out. She jumped up and turned off the lights, “Oh my God, hide! Hide!”

“What? What’s going on?”

“Aretha, I saw that light go off!”

“If he finds you here, he’ll kill you.”

She had to be kidding, right? She got back onto the bed and pulled me under the covers with her. We lay there for several minutes while Paul Bunyan continued to yell, “Where are you, girl? I saw you turn those lights off!”

He pounded on the window some more. Then it got quiet. Then the doorbell rang twenty times. This went on—him pounding on the window for a minute, then incessantly ringing her doorbell for a minute—for a good fifteen minutes. Aretha and I whispered under the covers.

“Who is it?”

“He’s my ex-boyfriend. His wife is out of town this weekend and he wanted to get together.”

“His wife? You dated a married guy?”

“You haven’t dated a married woman?”

“Am I on the Lifetime Network? No, I haven’t dated a married woman. Why would I?”

“Aretha, you better open this goddamn door, girl!”

“He’s huge; if he finds you here, he’ll kill you. He gets pissed when I go out with other guys.”

Well, that made sense. Can’t blame a married man for being pissed when his mistress was unfaithful.

“Did he fit into your condoms?”

“Yeah . . .”

“Yeah, I don’t want to meet him.”

Based on the condoms, his penis was roughly the size of one of my thighs. I did not want to meet the man who fit into those condoms. We lay quietly until we heard his truck start and screech away. Aretha pulled the covers off us, “You ready?”

“Yeah.”

I was shaking like a leaf. Try as I might, I had no chance of getting it up again. Aretha was not happy.

“You know, this is sad.”

“Thanks, Aretha, that helps a lot.”

I got dressed and left. Aretha and I tried to date, but she was too hung up on me being white. She tried to turn that around on me.

“You’d never bring your chocolate girlfriend home to meet your mom. I’d just always be your thing on the side.”

Huh. She complained about being a thing on the side, yet she was perfectly comfortable dating a married guy, which would make her . . . yeah, a thing on the side. Hello?!

I learned three things from Aretha and the other assistant:
•Sometimes just swallow hard and ask.
•Minorities can get hung up on mixed relationships.
•Size matters.

The Asian assistant gave me so many signs, I could no longer resist my own strong desire to have her. I had no lines, no smooth moves, and most likely no chance. All I could do was swallow hard and ask, hoping for the best. The best happened twice . . . in a combined one minute, but it still happened.

Both the girls at the hair clinics had a problem handling mixed relationships. Generally, the angle on interracial dating is that Caucasians have a problem with it, not minorities. The truth is, minorities can have problems with mixed dating, as well. That had never occurred to me.

Size matters. One can be too big, too small, too skinny, or too thick. Fortunately, there seems to be a wide range that each woman can handle. Most guys fit into that range. In cases where a guy doesn’t, there are always rubber bands.

Dude, Where's My Car?

2007-05-28T21:19:00.000-07:00

Until the week of May 21st, I thought “Dude, Where’s My Car?” was just the name of a bad Ashton Kutcher movie (not to be confused with all of his high quality films…). How naïve of me; I quickly learned what a shortsighted fool I’ve been. On Monday, May 21st, just three days before my birthday, I came home from a late volleyball match and some partying at midnight. Like with most Chicago residents, it can be a real adventure to find parking in my neighborhood, near Diversey and Clark. I may spend up to thirty minutes on my quest to find a vacant spot. Fortunately, I don’t have to drive much. The last time I had driven my car was on Saturday, May 19th. Imagine my surprise to have found a spot open on my own street. Typically, I have to park a few blocks away. As Chicago drivers know, it is necessary to check on your car every few days, to make sure street cleaning signs have not been posted or temporary “no parking by police order” tow signs have not appeared, where you parked. While I parked on my own block Saturday, I had not passed my car since then and decided Monday night, walking home from volleyball, was a good time to check up on my vehicle. I wasn’t exactly sure where I parked; just the general area where I parked. I went to that area. Hmm; my car wasn’t there. I must have parked it a little further down the block than I remembered. Nope; still not there. I went even further. Nothing. When I reached the end of the block, I became very puzzled. My car wasn’t anywhere on the block.

I did what any reasonable person would do and walked up and down the entire block, frantically, searching for my car. I did this several times. My mind began to play tricks on me. You must have parked it a block over, on Burling (Burling, Oakdale, and Surf are the only places outside Orchard where I park my car. When you can’t find your car, you hit all the places where you normally park, sometimes actually forgetting where you left it until you see it.) I headed over to Burling. It’s a long block, I walked all of it, and still no car. Oakdale. I trekked up there; nope. Clearly you parked on Surf. No signs of my car on Surf. F$@*! Where was my car? I knew you parked it on your block. Oh shut up, mind!

This was quite a quagmire. No way would someone steal my car. There are dents and scratches all over it. The driver’s front parking light is busted. The windshield is divided into two halves by a long crack. The driver’s side view mirror is gone, courtesy of some schlep who walked down my block one night and busted out all the driver’s side view mirrors on cars parked on the east side of the street. The crème de la crème are the two bungee cords holding the bumper to the front of the car. See? There’s no way in hell someone would steal my car; it would be like mugging a vagrant. (By the way ladies, I’m single, if you can believe that.)

The only other option was that the city of Chicago towed my car. But why? I didn’t owe any money for parking tickets on the vehicle, had not been parked in a tow zone, and had the proper zone permit for my area (which is punishable by ticket, not tow). I went home and checked online. I found where I could search for my vehicle by plate, to see if it had been towed by the city. “There are no records for this plate” was the response onscreen. Okay, I’ll check by VIN number. “There are no records for this VIN number.” I called 311. The operator verified that my car had not been towed. Again, what the f$@*! I did a little more research and discovered one last option—apparently, the city sometimes finds it necessary to relocate vehicles when they have to do some emergency utility work. I remembered seeing a ComEd truck on my block earlier that day and breathed easier; surely, my car had simply been relocated. I called 311; nope, my car had not been relocated.

Now I really began to panic. I was a comedian for nearly ten years and drove all over North America in the several cars I’ve owned. Having a car stolen was like losing a limb or a best friend. I actually felt bad because I didn’t get a chance to say goodbye to it! Plus, I had one hundred copies of my book “God is a Woman: Dating Disasters” in the trunk, which the publisher would make me replace by paying the printing costs, at six dollars a book. (When you live in a studio, your car trunk comes in handy for storage. Remember, still single, ladies!) I also had a bunch of tools in the trunk, including a set of socket wrenches which my father gave me, who has since passed away.

Tuesday, May 22nd, I called the city’s tow and relocation numbers again; there was still no record of the city doing anything with my car. I went to a police station and reported it stolen. When the police found out I drove a ’95 Toyota Corolla (yes, still single! Can you believe it?), they told me it was a very popular car for parts. At that point I came to the realization that my car had been stolen. Everyday, three times a day, I still called the city’s tow and relocation numbers, figuring at some point the car would be junked on the street and the city would tow it. Perhaps I could get my books and sentimental-valued wrenches out of the trunk. My birthday on the 24th came and passed; still no signs of my car. During this time I began speaking with a friend about buying her car, which she is selling because she is moving to New York. She wanted five grand for it. I really didn’t want to spend five grand when I don’t drive that much but I like having a car and I do need it.

On Sunday, May 27th, nearly a week after my car was stolen, I decided to take another hike around the neighborhood, looking for it. (I had already taken several throughout the week.) I walked several blocks away to the old owner’s apartment; maybe he stole the car. I walked up and down eight blocks before I came to Oakdale, a street I had already checked. After contemplating for a few minutes, I decided to head down Oakdale again, just in case some moron was driving my car around the neighborhood and was stupid enough to park it on the street in plain view. I was four blocks away from home. As I walked down the street, I saw a Corolla in the distance. More importantly, I saw a familiar reflection on its windshield; the reflection only a crack across a windshield can make. I got excited and hastened my pace. Yup, it was my car. I checked it over and got in. It clearly had not been driven. I opened the trunk; all of my copies of “God is a Woman: Dating Disasters” and the tools from my dad where still there. Whew! I drove it home and found a spot in front of my place, thinking my ordeal was over.

Upon calling the police, I learned I had to stand by my car and dial 911. An officer came out and wrote up a report, so that I wouldn’t get arrested driving my own car. He shook his head when I told him the story; clearly, this was not the first time he had heard such a thing. Just for kicks, I called the city after he left. They swore, once again—for what had to be about the twentieth time now—that my car had not been towed or relocated. In reality, the city of Chicago had indeed relocated my car, not just once, but twice! (Remember, I checked the Oakdale block the night my car went missing and it was not there; the city relocated it to that block later in the week.)

So, if your car goes missing, don’t worry; the city of Chicago will not have a record of stealing it (which is essentially what happened). You will not have any idea where it is or where it went, whether it was stolen by a criminal or whether Mayor Daley just took it to get detailed. What does Chicago expect you to do when they steal your car and park it some place else? Why, just wander around aimlessly for days or weeks looking for it, until you happen upon it. Just for kicks, they might move it more than once. Isn’t that fun? Hopefully, you don’t need your car daily or foolishly go out and buy a new one; that would screw up the game. Why would you want to do that? Isn’t it fun to wander around looking for your car, thinking important personal items had been lost, not to mention your car? He he he, what a blast! I can’t wait for the next time Chicago decides to play, “Dude, Where’s My Car?” with me! I hope I don’t have to wait until my birthday next year and I thank the city for giving me such a wonderful birthday gift. I love aging five years worrying about my car on one birthday, instead of just the normal one year of aging!

My Bungee Cord Has Been Stolen!!

2007-05-23T21:24:00.000-07:00

I have a bungee cord. I leave it outside. I went out this Monday to check on it, only to find that it was gone. I marched up and down the street four times, looking for it, thinking I had left it some place else other than I remembered. I then even checked nearby streets. Still no sign of the cord. I was very baffled. I can't imagine anyone would steal my bungee cord. Oh yeah, did I mention that the bungee cord holds the front bumper to my car? A car with a cracked windshield and mild body damage. A '95 Toyota Corolla with IL plate 460 7880. I cannot believe someone stole my car just to get my bungee cord. It still hasn't hit me because I can't imagine anyone would do such a thing to this car or bungee cord. But someone did. Actually, I feel bad for that person. How much must your life suck for you to steal my bungee cord, complete with car attached?

A Review From Legal Pub

2007-05-16T12:58:00.000-07:00

Legal Pub, a good writer with a humorous style and a knack for choosing intriguing, off-the-beaten path news topics, recently posted a review of "God is a Woman: Dating Disasters." You can read it here:

http://legalpublication.blogspot.com/2007/05/legal-pub-salutes-one-of-our-own.html

Or, he gave me permission to repost it here. I encourage you to read it at his link, though, because you should check out his own writings (lots of good stuff) and because there are some interesting replies forming a discussion of the book.

Needless to say (but I will), I am very flattered he liked it, and honored that he took the time to both write and post a review.

God is a Woman... (This is mature subject matter for adults.)

Who said you can not judge a book by its cover? When I first saw the title, I asked myself why Ian Coburn was writing a book about my fiancée. The book is great but I do have a complaint that the cover ought to have a place to insert the photo of a man's significant other just under the title. That way, "God" could be everyone's significant other!

Ian Coburn is a promising comedian who foreshadows in the first chapters his skills as an accomplished author. He provides imagery of what not to do when the near perfect woman falls into your lap. For those readers who are “naturals”, it answers the ill fated question of "I'll bet you do this all the time?" Or "You probably have a girl in every city." Ian provides a roadmap to deflect the negativity by exaggerating the woman's preexisting belief to the point of nonsense. Most women want to be right. Ian suggests that men let them be right. Women sometimes search to justify and explain their behavior with phrases like "I don't usually do things like this." By exaggerating the response to the question, it may create a bad boy imagine in an otherwise nice guy. David D. and Neil S. believe that by capitalizing on the good traits of bad boys (and leaving the abusive traits behind) attraction is magnified. Ian suggests that humor may be a kinder more effective way to magnify attraction.

The book reminds the reader of what they should have learned in the scouts. Be prepared. Necessary tools for every man to have at his disposal include an opening line that promotes common interests. Another is good transportation. A third is good protection. The book advocates being a confident risk taker. Only those who are willing to fail have a chance for success. Being an interesting communicator maximizes attraction. Props may be useful but be wary of mysterious packages in elevators... God is A Woman advocates avoiding women who follow the crowd as they are immature and unlikely to make independent decisions. Not only is a man not likely to be successful with such an individual, but the author actually demonstrates how group mentality can be damaging to the reputation of the pursuer. For legal eagles, a distinction is correctly made between healthy pursuit and stalking. There are too many “fish in the sea” for a man to become obsessed with any one woman.

Coburn introduces the reader to refreshing vocabulary such as “trixie.” Through humorous stories sharing his own personal failures, the author educates the inexperienced man as to how to navigate the minefields inherent to the pursuit of women. This is not just another “how to pick up women” book. It is a refreshing, humorous attempt to advocate improved interpersonal skills and better interaction among the sexes. While the book also attempts to provide female readers with some insight on men; admittedly, most men are so one dimensional in their pursuit of women that no manual is necessary.

http://www.amazon.com/God-Woman-Disasters-Ian-Coburn/dp/0978797957

My New Radio Show! Well, Maybe...

2007-05-13T15:26:00.000-07:00

NPR is having a contest in a search for a new host for a new show. I think my column "Lunch is Not a Date" would make a great show... of course. More importantly, it's another way for me to reach, help, and entertain people about dating. Here's the link you can post in your browser to hear my entry. Feel free to check it out and if you like it, cast a vote. You'll have to register but it only takes a second. Also, there are plenty of other entries there for you to listen to, too. Thanks!

http://www.publicradioquest.com/node/1261

Amazon in Canada and RedEye Article

2007-05-12T07:55:00.000-07:00

I just found out there is an Amazon for Canada. Are you kidding me? I had no idea. Why doesn't anyone tell me these things...? Please feel free to post your reviews from Amazon.com to Amazon.ca, as well, if you get a chance. We are slowly reaching more and more readers.

For those who don't live in Chicago, a big paper here, with 600,000 daily readers, used me as an expert for a dating article. This isn't quite as detailed as it was in the paper but here is a link to out-of-towners who might want to read it:

http://www.godisawoman.net/Deal-breakers%20%20Redeye%20%20Home.htm

I have begun looking to put up solid dating advice via my column "Lunch is Not a Date" weekly, as opposed to monthly. I will keep you posted... Have a good weekend!

Top Two Idiots in the World

2007-05-09T12:03:00.000-07:00

There are a lot of stupid people out there in the world. That being the case, you'd think it would be virtually impossible for the two biggest idiots to ever be in the same area, let alone meet. Alas, I was there when it happened.

Over the weekend I went to get my car to go play some tennis. I like to play on the outskirts of the city, where there are plenty of empty courts and where my opponent and I can play for as long as we like; as opposed to playing in the city, where courts are crowded and you can't play for more than an hour. I usually pick up whoever I'm playing and we head out for up to a four hour bout.

I got out to my car. Like most cities, parking is hard to find. You can spend thirty minutes looking for a spot on any given day. I started my car as a parked-illegaly SUV backed down the street, wanting my spot. Another car pulled up behind me. They met at the mid-section of my car and refused to move. I was boxed in. I yelled at them. It didn't matter. Forget that I couldn't get out of the spot and neither of them could park in it, they weren't budging. I threatened to call the police. Nothing. It wasn't until I actually dialed the police and started talking to them before the SUV pulled away. Clearly the two top idiots in the world.

Just FYI, I will be on Spain's largest English speaking radio station tomorrow (www.rem.fm). Should be fun. I go on around 1:40 CST and the show is aired online, too. For anyone who wrote a review on Amazon, please feel free to put it up on Amazon.co.uk, too, as that's where Europe buys books online. Thanks. Here is part of an article for a popular Chicago newspaper I was the expert for in today's issue (the sidebars are missing and only available in the hardcopy version).

http://redeye.chicagotribune.com/red-050907-dating-main,0,4613636.story

Feel free to check it out. Gotta run; off to move my car for street cleaning. Ugh!

Count Mouse Droppings

2007-05-04T14:07:00.000-07:00

I read in the paper today that a restaurant was closed because the city of Chicago found over three hundred mouse droppings in the establishment. That must be a great job, to count mouse droppings. Poor schmuck probably can't use the restroom without thinking about work. A few things come to mind:

Why do they have to count the number of droppings?
What is the cut-off for droppings? Is one hundred okay? Fifty?
Did anyone actually see a mouse? Perhaps rats are bringing the droppings into the place to frame mice, in which case the place shouldn't be closed.

What happens if they find 1000 or more mouse droppings?

Are the mouse droppings in any shapes? For example, is the a dropping in the shape of Mary? That's what we really want to know.

Amazon Spam

2007-05-01T21:24:00.000-07:00

This is a difficult subject for me to discuss, and I need to be tactful, which I'm not always good at. Please know that I mean no offense, so if I offend anyone, my apologies. At the same time, it is an important topic.

A fan of "God is a Woman: Dating Disasters" emailed me today to let me know that there has been a lot of spam about the book on Amazon. I have not been on Amazon in some time; I've been far too busy with various articles and other items to help people and get the word out about the book, which in turn helps people more, while entertaining them (always my goal). Speaking of which, here is a blurb I managed to get on match.com that was published tody:

http://msn.match.com/msn/article.aspx?articleid=7717&menuid=8&lid=428

I figured it wasn't really spam but rather some zealous fans chatting up the book a little much. So I went to Amazon to check it out for myself.

Holy crap! There is tons of chatter about the book which does indeed look very much like spam. I can't stand spam myself. The problem isn't mentioning the book in a review of another book. That's totally cool and Amazon even has a product link for that now, I noticed. If you read a book that relates to another book, you should mention it. It is how word of mouth spreads about books and word of mouth is tremendously important to the success of books, especially ones like mine. But I found mention of my book in reviews of books that it has nothing to do with. I also found it mentioned on discussion boards for other books. Those boards are intended for the discussion of those other books. There are general discussion boards on Amazon where you can post about books or books of certain genres but not on boards for other books, please. If a discussion occurs on one about the best comedy books or dating books, etc, sure, okay, that's totally cool.

So what do I mean exactly? Take today for instance. I do tons of articles, columns, and work tirelessly to get reviews of this book out there. This morning I posted about a review I received from a popular PUA site. I put up the link. Now that link is all over the place on Amazon, on discussion boards for other books. It's the placing of such a link or comments in numerous places that becomes spam. I didn't post the link here for it to be placed everywhere. Sure, it's fine to put it up on Amazon on my book or in a relevant discussion for it. But what does it have to do with The Professional Bachelor or The Game? Nothing. There in lies the problem.

Don't get me wrong, I appreciate all the praise and word of mouth about the book. Please make sure you are respectful about it to other books, though. I realize some of you are defending the book and me from skeptics, and while I appreciate it, it's not always necessary. Unlike many authors, I work my ass off to get exposure for this book. If people think that word of mouth and any recommendations thereof are just bs, so be it. Don't let it get to you. If they don't get that me doing two radio shows last week, getting a review up yesterday, a blurb in an article today, an upcoming blurb in "Glamour," creates fans and word of mouth, so be it. There will always be negative people, trying to pick arguments about everything; that's the way the world works.

There are other ways to mention the book on Amazon, which are non-intrusive and that's the key. When people read about a certain book, they don't want to read arguments about another book, you know? That's intrusive. But if they want to search for types of books, they can peruse listmanias and search for keywords. So, feel free to add keywords for searches for the book and mention it in listmanias, but please be more careful about keeping your zeal from appearing like spam.

Thanks everyone and thanks again for all your support. The book has been very successful and I owe most of that to reviews from readers. While its Amazon sales have dropped off some lately (it was in the top 1000 for a couple weeks a few weeks back), bookstore sales have picked up. So, it all comes out even.

Thanks again and if anyone wants to discuss this further, you may email me at iancoburn@hotmail.com. Also feel free to contact me if you feel offended by this post in some way. Thanks.

PUA Review,PUA's in General, and Lifetime Gig

2007-05-01T06:39:00.000-07:00

There is an ever growing PUA (Pick up Artist) community, which I find very intriguing. To oustsiders, especially women, it may appear as a cold community, what with all their terms used to discuss how to be successful with women. In truth, they are just giving each other pointers on how to be successful with the ladies. Sure, some are probably jerks using the information inapproriately but having been exchanging emails with a few for a while now, I find they are 90% just really good guys who have found a way to help out those less fortunate with women be successful, including themselves at one point. In reality, I think women are meeting better guys via them than the typical guys women might meet at a club on any given night. It's kind of like the movie "Hitch." A lot of these guys are just good guys who need to have the playing field leveled better to compete with the jerks and pua books and forums are helping them. If you check it out and become more interested, I suggest you pick up a copy of Mystery Method to understand their terminology.

I was honored yesterday to have one of the forum heads give my own book a big thumbs up in a review, which you can read here:

http://www.themysterymethod.com/forum/showthread.php?p=256145#post256145

Also, I don't know if I mentioned this already, but starting in June I will be answering questions for women on the Lifetime Network Website as part of a panel of experts. Should be a lot of fun! I've already starting answering questions, which I really enjoy doing. Feel free to send me yours, as well, to iancoburn@hotmail.com.

I also wanted to take a moment and thank you again for the reviews on Amazon for the book. I recently discovered there is a separate Amazon-UK, where you can post reviews, too. Who knew? I found out when I started answering dating questions from a guy in Sweden and another in Norway.