>>> The Lady's Shave
By staff writer NG Hatfield
September 24, 2006
So, I’m back. I don’t need to tell you the circumstances of my return, just know that I’m here to stay. I know that I’ve probably pissed off those of you who haven’t been able to read my shit for the last few weeks, because I’m so fucking awesome… but alas, as the old adage goes, “Better late than never.”
For this week, I decided to Google “Never Ask a Woman” and explain each of the old proverbs listed in the results. I did this for two reasons. One, because most of those maxims are outdated and fucking ridiculous; and two, because misogyny works.
Need proof? Let’s go.
Never Ask a Woman…
“How much do you weigh?”
“During a fight, blaming her emotional instability on vaginal excretion just gives her an excuse to act like a bitch.”
When I first saw heard that I shouldn’t ask this question, I thought, “Why can’t I ask a girl how much she weighs?” After all, it’s just an arbitrary number (girls who are 120 pounds can be hot or ugly, for instance). Then I realized that the only girls I'd ask about their weight would be fat chicks, and they’d be too busy scarfing down Triple Whoppers to answer me. Yeah… and you know what? Why would you waste breath talking to fat bitches when you could be using that breath to run away?
Fat bitches is slow.
“How do I get to [location]?”
You know why Bugs Bunny used to pop out of the ground and say, “Musta taken a wrong turn in Albuquerque?”
No? Well, I do. He used to say that because that dumb fuck asked a bitch how to get to Pismo beach instead of just doing it himself. So yeah, go ahead and ask a girl how to get somewhere… just don’t be surprised after you take that wrong turn and end up staring down the business end of a double barrel shotgun.
Besides, asking for directions is like sucking your grandpa’s dick. You just don’t do it.
“When's the baby due?”
They say that it might insult a fat chick. And they're right, it might. But honestly, insulting fat chicks is fun. Why do you think I write?
So, instead of mildly insulting her, ask the cow, “Know who the daddy is?” Then say, “Well I hope he's got a good job, ‘cause with your fatass genes, that motherfuckin’ baby’s gonna be pretty goddamned porky!”
Baby food's pretty expensive, you know.
“What are you raggin' or something?”
During a fight, blaming her emotional instability on vaginal excretion may be somewhat humorous, but there's really no point in it. It gives her an excuse to act like a bitch. Your responsibility, then, is to take the power back. Tell her, “It doesn't matter if you're bleeding, you're naturally a full-blown cunt.”
It’s true. You are.
“Can I buy you a drink?”
Some little faggots got their own jet airplanes. Some little faggots are millionaires. I, on the other hand, am broke as a joke, as I’m sure you are. So, don’t bother wasting money on women in the bar. It's the 21st century, my friend. If that bitch is thirsty and broke, tell her that your jizz has water in it.
“How old are you?”
This one actually makes complete sense. If you don’t ask how old she is, she won't tell you. If she won't tell you, you won’t know. If you don’t know, you have a legitimate alibi for fucking a thirteen-year-old. Simple.
“Would you get this for me?”
Listen, I’ve seen enough goddamned Judge Judy enough to know that letting a woman buy something for me is shit. She’ll remember everything, and when I fuck her sister, those mint-condition Ninja Turtle action figures will NOT be considered gifts.
“Will you please get to the point of this?”
First of all, she won’t… no matter how hard you try. So just let her slide down to your balls for a few minutes. You'll appreciate it.
I promise.
“Would you terminate the pregnancy? Because I'd find that very convenient.”
It's not that I'm advising fathering a child. I'd never do that. But you know, you could always use another pair of hands to cup the balls. And they're so little and soft.
“Can I kiss you?”
AGH! Never! NEVER, EVER EVER ASK. Grow some balls and kiss her. The best thing about kissing a girl is that it leaves no semen in her vagina.
“Why are you mad at me?”
Two reasons not to ask this: One, does it really matter? Two, you’re essentially asking to be bitched at for an extended period of time. Bad idea, kid. Bad.
“What do you think about that girl?”
“Have you figured out the circumference of number seven?”
Self-explanatory.
“Seems like the timing belt, what do you think?”
Self-explanatory.
“Who would win in a fight: Batman or Superman?”
Superman, obviously.
“Do you find black men attractive?”
She does.
“Do you like me? ”
Der.
“Will you marry me?”
…
The Lady's Shave not close enough for ya? Get closer with Nick's blog, The Lady's Trim, where you can top yourself off with “The Fucking Outrageous Outrages of a Pizza Delivery Dude” and Katherine Harris' graffitied Facebook profile.