Tag Archives: dick

Asking about sex (part two)

In the previous weblog communique we covered that a good way to acquire sex is to mask fairly straightforward intentions beneath a creative layer of euphemism. We demonstrated three of the most common sexual metaphors to use in this euphemism: business metaphors, sports metaphors and historical/animal metaphors. (Note, other useful metaphors for sex include ‘Car/sex metaphors’, ‘Alcohol or drugs/sex metaphors’ and ‘Anti-Vaccination Movement/sex metaphors’).  The problem with euphemism is in order to engage in delicate ballet dance of suggestive meaning you probably have to be familiar with the person you are talking to.  Simply walking up to a stranger and saying “Want to come back to my musty basement and share anti-science conspiracies?” is likely to make that stranger think you are so weird that they’ll probably not bother to even attempt to decipher your lustful code. If the object of your thirstful desire is a complete stranger you are going to have to actually introduce yourself. This, however, can be a fertile garden in which to plant the seeds of licentious promise.

Be unusual

Former U.S Secretary of State Henry Kissenger once said “If you can’t be interesting or clever, be weird” and he knew a thing or two about all three of those things as the man who normalised relations between the U.S and communist China if you get my drift. Which you almost certainly don’t. The thing is, leaving a lasting impression by being slightly odd works for good looking, pleasant and interesting people as well.  Introductory conversation is such a fecund area for being slightly off the wall because by and large it is formulaic and boring.  Most introductory conversations begin with someone giving their name and inquiring of the other person’s name.  They will often then ask “what do you do?” or “why are you here?” which, while the information these questions furnish can be useful it is not exactly a memorable line of inquiry.  You may remember the answers were, respectively, ‘Nancy’, ‘new media’ and ‘I got the wrong bus’ but it is unlikely Nancy remembers vividly the questions you asked.  Instead of the boring old ‘name/job/reason’ trifecta try instead:

“What cheese do you like?”

“Have you been to France?”

“Do you prefer The Smiths or the colour green?”

“Where did you get that impressive top hat?” (This really only works as an interesting question if the person you approach and ask isn’t wearing a top hat. It is best if they aren’t wearing any hat at all: there’s a fine line between ‘interesting’ and ‘coming off as too stupid to correctly identify types of hat’)

It isn’t actually necessary to ask a question by way of introduction at all; the point is not to acquire information about the apple of your coital eye it is to make them think ‘Well, she was a bit smelly but she was certainly intriguing’.  Simply walk up to the stranger and say something slightly unusual.

“I like rugby league”

“It’s disputed how much time Hannibal spent in Asia Minor.”

“Cake is better than biscuits except for red velvet cake which is not as good as biscuits”

Now, it is important to add at this point that this approach walks a bit of a knife-edge between ‘amusingly quirky’ and either ‘out-there strange’ or ‘probably on drugs’. While people on drugs are definitely interesting and quirky, and you can add to that list the other qualities of edgy and cool, but they are usually also temporary. If she suspects you are on drugs she will likely be thinking ‘Well he’s interesting and cool and edgy now, but what if the ketamine wears off and he asks me something lame like what my job is?’ and you don’t want that.

You also don’t want to go so far as to attempt to wear anything to appear interesting. The cold, hard, aroused fact of the matter is people don’t actually like people who wear ‘unusual clothes’ or ‘have signature facial hair’.  The guy who wears golf shoes and a Kaiser Wilhelm mustache to the party usually goes home from said party alone. No matter how wacky they are, clothes all look the same when they are crumpled on the floor next to the bed, car or lavatory.



How to score

It seems these days that the ‘number three industry’, after making mobile phone apps and coal, is offering dating advice.  The problem with most of this advice is it is almost entirely low-level pop-psychology and really obvious body language tips.

The thing is, if you’d been paying attention in high school instead of doing maths problems and hiding from the Captain of the First XI, you should have picked these up for yourself. However, this is not to say that all of us don’t need a little romantic pick-me-up from time to time.

Finding oneself in the ‘Chum-zone’ with a lad or lass you want to have sex with is quite annoying, especially when you consider that you have no real problems in your life.

Not being able to move your relationship from the ‘Can I borrow the boxed set of the West Wing’ phase to the ‘Lets watch the West Wing together and do the voices’ phase can be a tough nut to crack.  Like a walnut.  A walnut of sexual tension and awkwardness.

The problem with most ‘How to date a person’ advice is it all relies on the assumption that the person you are trying to mate/date is dimmer than you are, and thus are unable to tell that you are trying to psychology them.  This is a strange assumption to make given that you are paying for advice in how to act around another human.

The long, hard fact is that most people who haven’t yet slept with you are probably smarter than you are which is how they have avoided sleeping with you up until now.  Most ‘dating advice tips’ also tend to make the assumption that you are a man, which many people are not.

Never fear though, your weblog comptroller is also a Level Seven Love Wizard with a power-up Orb of ‘Getting it On’ and he’s here to show you how to make that ‘Crush’ into a ‘Brush(ing of genitals)’. What’s more you don’t have to a man, or even male, to participate.

Power of suggestion

When people hear a word, they quite often do what that word is.  For instance, if you hear the word “car” in a sentence you will probably buy a car.  This is why car salesmen quite often say the word “car” or “automobile” when they are doing a sales pitch. You don’t hear that many of them saying “Taylor Swift” or “Jelly” in a sales pitch, unless it is to say “Taylor would be so jelly of you buying this Suzuki Swift car.”

The problem though, is just saying the word can be a bit too subtle. If you only have a few minutes in which to make the suggestion of a conjugal interlude, you may have to be a bit more direct. The key is to simply shout the suggestive term, loudly and pretty much at random, in the middle of a normal and unrelated conversation.

An example may help:

You: “It is a nice day we are having here waiting SEX!!  for the van to take us on the  ROOTING!! medieval festival.”

Now the object of your desire may be a little confused and maybe even question you on this:

Magenta (a person you like) : “Sorry, what did you say? What was all that weird shouting?”

But now the seeds of suggestion are planted in Magenta’s brain and they will fertilise slowly from here on in.  It is actually best now for you to deny you even shouted anything at all, and look at Magenta as if she’s a bit odd:

You: “What weird shouting? KISSING!! You are probably mistaken because of taking bath salts or something.”

Create mystery and create demand

Have you ever stared out the window watching the storm clouds roll in over the bay and wondered how Phil Collins could marry not one but several women? I know I have.

I mean he writes whiny songs about his exes so the next wife must know the same thing will happen to her, right? Well, I did used to wonder this quite a bit.

I say did because now I know why people kept marrying Phil Collins. He was a man of mystery and he created demand for the ‘Phil Collins brand’.

He pretty much pioneered the stark electronic drum-kit sound synonymous with so much of how we remember the eighties; he thus created demand. Not only was he in demand, but you never knew when a new Phil Collins record would come out, or quite often where he was quite a lot of the time.

Maybe a record every several years, and maybe he’s in the kitchen.

Maybe not one for ten years and maybe he’s on the roof.


You need to be like Phil Collins. I mean, not entirely, but in this very specific way.

Create a sense of mystery around what you are doing.  When your ‘coital mark’ asks where you are going, allude to somewhere very strange, but be vague enough not to have to actually lie.  Make out you have other people who want to be in your company, especially other potential suitors.

Let me illustrate point with an example:

Gwylim (a person you are keen on): “I am thinking of going to that anti-water fluoridation rally later on, are you going to go to that?”

You: “Maaaaaaybe…” Now you look at your watch… You: “Is that the time, I have to go and sort that, well, you know, things to do people to see…and maybe…kiss.”

Leave it hanging on kiss.

Gwylim: “Oh yeah, what are you up to?”

Now you just burst into a maniacal cackle and walk off briskly muttering safe in the knowledge you have created both mystery as to what you are doing and an allusion to other people who demand your time. Your sexy time.

Disrupt social patterns

The thing about the attractive and the desirable of our species, and indeed most species, is they have a lot of social engagements with a lot of people.

You may be chums with the ‘the one you thirst for’ and you may well hang out frequently and do the normal day-to-day social things with them but you can bet your last whisky dollar that this person does a lot of the same things with a lot of people. Many of those people will be funnier and smarter and less of a dick than you.

You can’t, or up to this point won’t, make yourself funnier, smarter or less of a dick so you need a Plan B. If you can’t make the company (you) stand out, make the event stand out.

Instead of going to the movies, suggest playing lawn-bowls in a car-park. Instead of going to a cafe or bar, suggest drinking beers in a car-park. Instead of going to a goose farm, suggest stealing road cones and arranging them in a car-park.

Soon the ‘apple of your eye’ will associate you with doing exciting and interesting things, and they may take a second look at you, over-look your many shortcomings and consider moving things to the next level.


As well as disrupting your routine, at some point you need to disrupt everyone’s perceptions of you. A way to do this is what is often referred to as ‘peacocking.’

Invite that ‘hot thang’ out to a fun car-park drinking session but tell him to meet you there much earlier than you intend to show up.

As well as creating mystery, you will also be buying yourself some time to break into his house and release a peacock into his bedroom.  A peacock is best because it correlates with the title of this section but any big, easily spooked, and destructive bird will do. Maybe a goose from one of those trips to the goose farm you used to do.

Then you show up at the car-park. He’ll be wondering where you’ve been but he’ll be impressed at how little regard you have for his time. Do your platonic but slightly quirky social thing and then he goes home.

What happens next is a sure fire winner and best illustrated by an example:

Your phone buzzes hotly in your pocket. You see it is Terrance, the one you burn for. Answer it.

Terrance: “Fuck, there’s a massive fucking peacock in my bedroom and its slashed up my duvet, and its shat everywhere!”

You smile knowingly. Don’t worry, he can’t see you; you’re on the phone.

Terrance: “I’m not going back in there, its fucking crazy. Can I ask you a favour, can I stay at yours tonight…”

dot dot dot indeed.

Being funny

One of the things I have learned on this long and badly signposted road that is life is the most important thing you can be is funny.  You could have discovered a cure for cancer, but if the best you could do on Twitter upon your discovery was “Looks like there’s only ELEVEN signs of the Zodiac now… #CuredCancer” then no-one is going to care.

Lance Armstrong might have been the first man to walk on the face of what we now call The Moon, but what he is remembered for is comically knocking a golf ball around up there in a hilarious visual gag.

Being funny is more important than being smart, nice, or even attractive and like all good things, it is easy and requires next to no effort.

Just absorb, by way of your eyes, the following five things and soon you will be as popular as Bill Clinton, without having the brains or the human decency of Hillary Clinton.

Be Loud

The thing about humour is it is 43.76% wit, timing and arm-pit farts and 56.24% volume.  Basically, if you say anything loudly it is funny.  Try it out: yell “Telephone!” right now; people will laugh.  There’s nothing particularly funny about the word ‘telephone’ or even telephones. If you have recently been dumped over the telephone, telephones may hold a certain sadness in your heart.  The reason people laughed was because you yelled it.

Loudness is why people who yell things, even indiscernible things, from cars, in stadiums, in movie theatres, and off construction-site scaffolding are revered for their Paul Rudd-esque wit and reap the carnal benefits accordingly.

The other thing about being louder than everything else is if you hear someone else say something funny, you can repeat it louder and get all the credit for it. What are they going to do about it, pout passive-aggressively? Probably, but now you are the Oscar Wildean Megaphone through which all the great quips pass.


Jokes become funnier the more you tell them.  This is why people watch Two and a Half Men and Blackadder re-runs every week and laugh themselves incontinent and why no-one cares about Woody Allen movies.  If you repeat a joke over and over it will become familiar to your audience and people find familiar things comforting and thus, funny.  Why do you think politicians repeat the same ideas over and over: they are part of a global conspiracy to make politics funny and thus, interesting.

It’s science. So don’t argue with it. What are you, some sort of creationist? Read this Richard Dawkins book. Moron.

 Find new avenues

People expect to hear jokes on the television, at the pub, or during sex, so in many ways they are steeled to their penetrative power.  However, if you take people by surprise by being funny in an avenue of their life that they don’t expect to encounter comedy, you disarm them and laughter floweth more easily.  It is why no-one laughs during a Robin Williams stand-up performance, despite the ticket clearly saying ‘an evening of comedy’ but everyone bursts into hysterics if you yell “Bollocks!” during the eulogies at a funeral.

 Sight gags

The problem with word-based comedy is it is hard.  How often have you been down the gastro pub, part way through a hilariously ribald joke involving a sexual encounter culminating in someone crapping themselves only to have your whole thunder stolen by someone making a ‘wanking’ gesture with their hand? Seventeen times at least!

Funny gestures are like the picture that tells a thousand dick jokes.  It is why the funniest people tend to also be the most expressive with their hands.

Everyone knows that the guy in the office who wears a tie embroided with pictures of poo on it is the ‘office card’, and we all love the lady who has mastered nine different shades of sarcasm merely by her eye-rolling and smirking.

Pulling the fingers, the dismissive wank gesture, and putting your index finger through your trouser fly to indicate your penis is out are jokes that transcend language and cultural barriers.  This is why all diplomats have an expressive set of sexually simulating thrusting gestures in their humour repertoire should be called upon to diffuse an international incident with comedy.

Current events

People always think that the person who can impress his or her friends or Twitter feed with side-ways jibes at current events is a special type of sophisticate.

The thing is, it is easy.  For a start, current events are constantly happening.  If you live in New Zealand, when current events stop happening for the day at 5.45PM, they are only just starting in the big important countries.  Its a twenty-four hour cycle and you have a myriad to choose from.

Secondly, you really only have to reference the event to get a laugh.  This is why so many tweets are:

“*insert name of politician/sporting identity/celebrity is a total *insert colloquial name for genitalia*”.

Sometimes you can be even more general than that: See how many retweets you get from tweeting:

“I wish all those clowns in Congress would stop clowning around #Clown”

Easy.  Now you are basically John Stewart. Or at very least the crew of Seven Sharp.

Living alone

Having just filled out my census and being an avid follower and consumer of the ideas espoused on  Twitter I have taken note of a lot of talk about how depressing it is to live alone.  Obviously a lot of this was tongue in cheek – a healthy sideswipe and the foibles of modern life. Some of it was probably fishing for dates; as if saying “Hey, I have my own dwelling. Come and remove my pants in a loving yet non-committal way!”

Some of it though appeared to be genuinely heart-felt. It seemed to me that some people were genuinely upset by the fact that they lived alone and by association were alone and it had taken filling out a form about the number of people living in their dwelling for them to realise this.  Or, more likely, they were upset some time before the census forms arrived. In fact, the census form arriving was probably a glimmer of hope because if they received their forms in the way I did, they were actually delivered by a real-life Other Person.

The thing is; they have it all wrong. Living alone is totally righteous. Maybe they have forgotten how righteous, or maybe they just don’t have their head in the right thinking-scape and maybe they need reminding.  Maybe they don’t too, but we won’t address that option because as you have probably worked out by now, I am going to do a list of reasons why it is righteously badarse and palatable to live by yourself.

Before you say what I think you are going to say I will glare at you and, remind you that this is a family weblog.  I’ll also add that I used to do that in the lounge when I lived with other people anyway so it’s hardly relevant.

Having no pants

As I have posited in a previous weblog entry pants are a bit, well, pants. Not wearing pants is better than wearing the most amazing pair of pants and I think this is a pretty well established fact.

Now, I have tended to walk around in my undergarments when I have lived with other people and I imagine most of you have too so you might argue that you can still have this luxury while also having someone else chipping in on the internet bill. Well, okay, you are right, but how many flats have you lived in where you could walk about not wearing anything? Any? Okay, any flats where you didn’t wake up six months later with your bank accounts emptied, a sense you had been taken for a ride both spiritually and financially, and a feeling that even mainstream religion was better than this cultist nightmare?

No, no you haven’t.

“But I live with my partner or significant other and he/she is totally groovy with my naked body” I hear you warble.

Okay, point taken, and I’ll keep that in mind as we move through the list.

Just a note about the ‘no garments on the lower half’ thing: if you tell people that you do this you may find that when these people are guests in your home they may be reluctant to sit on sofas. People tend to equate ‘not wearing any clothes’ with ‘inadequate wiping’.

Not cleaning things up

When you were a child you asked yourself and any authority figure who requested it of you, why do we even need to clean up when we just make a mess again? No matter what answer was given to you, it was wrong.  Yet somewhere along the line we came to accept that cleaning up after yourself was necessary and, as part of the socialisation process, we came to accept that regardless of its futility we needed to be tidy for other people.

Well, if you remove yourself from the socialisation process then you no longer need to tidy up. Fact.

“What about hygiene, what about disease?” I hear you shriek unreasonably.

Well, okay, don’t get to the stage where there is a rotting horse carcass in the lounge and the toilet is backed up and belching human waste all over the mezzanine.  Thing is though, there is a massive middle-ground between ‘fly-blown scum pit’ and the level of anal tidiness people have come to expect in shared living spaces. For instance, you don’t need to do dishes, and you don’t need, really, to vacuum or clean the floor, yet most people I have lived with have required this of me and it is a bit poo.

Being loud

When you live by yourself you can be as loud as you want when you want. If I want to come home at 6AM with people I have met at a night-club to get twisted as a cockroach and blast minimal techno I can, there is no-one who can stop me and no-one to complain. Conversely, if I have no friends because I am always jerking off in the lounge and positing my weird opinions and I want to play The Sopranos at top volume and wail loudly about my loneliness, I can. No problems, no-one to tut-tut me.

“But what about the neighbours?” I hear you mutter. Like a dick.

Firstly, why are you asking me all these questions and what are you doing here? Secondly, the cold hard fact of the matter is no-one actually cares about their neighbours. I mean, sure, you’d care if they were murdered or they were trapped in their house while it is burning but beyond that you don’t. Unless they are your friends and if they are your friends they get you and thus don’t have a problem with any of the aforementioned activities.

Let’s be honest, it’s no skin off their buttocks how noisy/annoying/off your head you are because there is a wall and (hopefully) no internal door between you and them. If they do, they are a dick. Therefore, you don’t care what they think.

Logic my dear Watson.  Is your name Watson?

It is now.

No silly arguments

The thing about living with people is you always end up fighting about dumb things. The thing about living by yourself is you don’t.

All the adages like ‘never flat with mates’ or ‘don’t screw the crew’ or ‘people get weird about you watching them sleep’  stem from the fact that if you live with people there are terse boundaries that are volatile and hard to negotiate.

Normally reasonable people become obsessed with how much hot water there is, who gets the most use out of the Sky Channels, and who ate the Black Forest Gateau in the fridge that had a Post-it note on it saying ‘Don’t Eat Fuckwads! This is for my mother. Who is in hospital’. Live by yourself, and the stress of these confrontations melt away like so much cake-icing left on the bench on a hot summer afternoon.

Being weird

The best thing about living by yourself is you can develop all sorts of weird idiosyncrasies that would annoy, intrigue, or arouse mockery from, other people.

If you want to go to the toilet every hour, on the hour, you can. No one says anything.  If you want to turn your whole house into a giant war-game where you play every battle of World War Two simultaneously with yourself; using plastic soldiers and to-scale maps, you can.

“But I live with someone who really gets me, we are soul mates” I hear you annoyingly chime in again.

Well, no. No you don’t. You live with a person who gets you within certain parameters. They may even love you outside of those parameters, nice.

However, if you watch every episode of the West Wing back to back for as long as it takes and insist the only breaks in the viewings are to order pizza, which has now become your staple diet, see how long it is from this point that they want to live with you.

Then tell me about a successful relationship that continued after one party moved out of the shared home.


The thing about trousers is there are really only two possible outcomes for me, trousers will either look passable on me, or they’ll look silly on me.  I have never worn a pair of pants and had anyone say “You look really good in those pants”. I have however had people say “Man, those pants are dicked up” or “Those pants look stupid you dick.”  The best I can hope for when I pant up is that I meet the relatively uninspiring bar of ‘not looking like a dick.’

The other problem is there is no way of knowing whether they’ll look “meh” or “shit” before purchasing them.  I mean, a lot of the time I try them on in the shop and I suppose this is the best defence against buying some fucked up trousers. The problem is this is so far from fool-proof that it is unsurprising I have bought loads of pants without trying them on first.  Firstly, no-one can think straight in a clothing shop.  There is something claustrophobic about all that fabric and the muffled screams of Chinese slave labour haunting the over-stuffed aisles.  I also lie when I said that no-one has ever said I looked good in pants; shop assistants have said that I look good in pants, and they are full of the brown sticky stuff.

I came to the realisation many years ago that I give off the air of a man who will lay down money for even the most vacuous compliment or stalest whiff of affection from a stranger.  I also know this about myself, have a rudimentary idea of how capitalism works in as much as it relates to shop assistants, and therefore I know to take anything they say with a grain of salt.  So I am without rudder or oar.

A further issue is that if I buy ill-fitting pants, I seldom buy them too small. No, I always grossly over-estimate how wide I am, or when buying trou I feel a subconscious need to factor in gaining ten kilos before I next need to trouser shop.  The problem with this is I’m tempted to make-do with the oversized sacks of fabric rather than return them, which I would have to do if they were too small.


There is actually a psy-trance party occurring inside the left leg. The right is strictly jungle.

There are a few things I miss about the nineties, none of them technology based, but a lot are clothing based. About the last time I got pants right was 2001 because there are few ways you can balls-up raver jeans; you are supposed to swim about inside them. In fact, the whole point was you could dance pretty vigorously inside the jeans without the jeans moving at all; a sort of tent for the legs which occasionally brushed against your calves absorbing perspiration and drugs.

Bad things happened in 2001 but nothing on a scale as destructive as what The Strokes did to pants.  The skinny jeans phenomena meant that men who were both vain and also lazy were faced with a stark choice; move with fashion and be forever pulling our crotch out of our crotch, or dance on into uncoolness, picking up cigarette butts and leaves with the bottom of our 50 inch hems.

I for one believe the Era of Big Trou needs to return, if for no other reason as it means pant-purchase will be less hit and miss and there will be one less reason for people to call me a dick.