You Know She's Thinking About It

Osama bin Laden's newly-single son, Omar, wants to come to Hollywood and date Drew Barrymore.

While I find that an odd choice, since I don't find her remotely attractive or interesting, maybe it is an intelligent choice for a guy whose choices, let's be honest, are limited.

Could Omar bin Laden land Jessica Alba? Not a chance. Jessica Biel? No way. Jessica Simpson? Maybe--as long as he learns how to throw a football.

In fact, Drew Barrymore is such an attainable choice, relatively speaking, that I respect his calculating move, appropriately announced to the world with the sort of flowery shit chicks really dig:

"I want to go to America, and I would love to meet Drew Barrymore," said Omar, 29, who recently split from wife Zaina, 25 years his senior. "I am single now and she is the most beautiful woman in Hollywood."

(courtesy Huffington Post)

 Omar and his previous slave, Zaina

It probably doesn't hurt that Ms. Barrymore is one of the wealthiest women in Hollywood, due to her inherited Barrymore family money, the lifelong Barrymore family access to the movie biz, and her shrewd ability to use that money and access to start her own production company.

I mean, it's not like Omar is getting any of his father's money these days as from what I hear it's almost all tied up in military operations and cave speculation.

Omar has always has trouble figuring out who he is

If things don't work out with Barrymore, however, fear not--sexy Omar has at least one more peach on the tree, as it were:

Speaking from a Doha, Qatar hotel in an interview with the Sun, [Omar] also professes an admiration for Jim Carrey, American football, rock music and Madonna. "She's such a great dancer for a woman of her age," he says of the Material Girl, 51. 

Madonna would be so thrilled to hear that qualification on her dancing abilities. Trust me. She's pretty much in the bag, quaffing a pint of Metamucil on the grounds of her British estate, waiting to hear what happens with Drew...

Whaddya think, Drew? Nice pecs/goatee?

_

The Final Word on Sandra Bullock

How far does one need to bend down while wearing naught save a camisole,
so as to show some cleavage? Must be before the boob-job...

I can't even believe I'm talking about her, but I guess one man can only take so much fucking mindless bullshit from the blaring media before he has to silence the crowd, down a thirsty throat-full of Pellegrino, belch in the satisfied manner of a man of the world, and speak his mind, once and for all, so here goes:

Sandra Bullock is not worth a damn.

The evidence:

1. She has never been, nor will ever be, a credible actor, despite a recent Oscar win for her performance as a skinny white woman with breasts and a questionable accent in 'Precious for the Suburbs.'

2. She was stupid enough to marry Jesse James, a white-trash custom motorcycle dawg with a penchant for porn stars, despite the fact that she had her pick of the litter, and expected it to turn out well.

3. She counts George Fucking Lopez among her closest friends, which is proof that she has absolutely no taste whatsoever, since that guy is a comedian who has yet to realize the only joke he has given the world is himself.

4. She thinks the world cares whether or not she has a sex tape.

No talent, no taste, no clue. And she wants my sympathy?

I say, "Fuck that bitch."

I said it once, I'll say it again. Either raise your glass or begin the slow but fruitful process of learning how to finally accept the truth--anything else is just unnecessarily self-destructive.

_

Very Kind, Indeed!

After eight years of sleepless nights and near-constant regret, fortune has once again smiled upon Ma & Pa Clinton, as they recently discovered a nearly-impossible-to-locate-trust-me-they-tried Kenyan man's 2000 offer of 40 goats and 20 cows for their daughter's hand was still valid.

As elated as a Hollywood producer landing Johnny Depp for scale, President Aeternus Bill Clinton finally opened that dusty box of Cubans he's been saving since Chelsea's bittersweet sixteen and had a good long smoke with his incredulous Secret Service team.

"I bet Kim Jong-il is kicking himself now!" He laughed heartily, recalling his recent clandestine lobbying efforts in North Korea. "I told him 20 goats and a pirated Golden Girls collection was an insult, and lo and behold..."

The silver fox trailed off, unsure how to finish this sentence, a cocktail of emotions swirling beneath his regal facade.

"Well, I guess sometimes words just have their limit, my friends--and that's why the good Lord invented jazz."

And just like that, Bubba hefted his battered and bruised alto saxophone and fudged his way through some Coltrane.

_

The Ten Stages of Romance

So, lately, I've been having all kinds of ladyfolk asking me for all kinds of stuff and I'm like:

"Yo! I gotta tell it to you straight, babygirl--there's certain things you gotta do to climb another rung on the ladder, know what I mean?"

I'm sure I ain't alone in this predicament, so this missive goes out to all those players out there (lemme hear ya, Naperville!!!) trying to keep it real--a pocket-sized, smart-brained guide to gift-giving between men and the ladyfolk that poison their hopes, dreams, and lives.

Recognize:


1. Drink
So, you're out at a bar and you see a girl with an ass you just want to take a bite out of like a crisp Granny Smith on a hot summer day. You blow her kisses, you maintain eye contact as you rub your dick in a sexy way and push people over to get up in her face, you grind on that ass, impress her with the pointiness of the erection drowning in your wide-gauge corduroy jeans, she keeps pushing your hands away from her breasts...now what, right?
This what--buy the lady a drink.

Hint: Ladies usually like drinks with peach in them, or vodka drinks with granites, or drinks that end in 'wine.' If she asks for something else, she might have a penis, or at least a remnant of one. Walk away--it ain't worth the risk. Trust me.


2. French Fries
So it's five minutes later and her drink is empty and the thirsty little kitten is standing there wanting more, right? Perfect--it's always a good idea to leave 'em wanting more. This fox is in the cage, na'mean? Before she can say anything, drop this gem on that little AppleBrownBetty: "Fries?" Nothing says foreplay like deep-fried potatoes eaten in tandem under fluorescent lighting.

Hint: If the tiger's got teeth, make sure to order the large--it never hurts to impress with largesse.


3. Breakfast
After you bang her every way from Sunday, and if she still looks fine(-ish), make sure to offer the lady breakfast in bed--there isn't a girl alive that doesn't want to be treated like a princess.
As soon as she says yes, offer her your morning wood in such a way that it's difficult to say no. If she takes the bait, you've got a real gamer. If she blushes, laugh it off and take her to Denny's--cheapest grand slam around.

Hint: Get up early to secretly wash your penis in the sink, which will greatly increase the odds she will tolerate its presence near/in her face. You're welcome.


4. Lunch
After breakfast, you should definitely bang her in the back of your Honda Prelude, under the unfolded metallic sunshade, all private and sexy-like, because you never know when you might get another chance--a smart camel always drinks at a watering hole.
If mademoiselle says she has to go to work, run your sticky fingers through her knotted hair and suavely insist on picking her up for lunch in a few hours. If she hesitates, cry--anything more aggressive might scare her away, but a man's gotta fight for what he wants, right? Besides--nothing cuts worse than your own sword...
Once she relents, stay smart and keep in mind that ladies love places where you can get salads and ice tea for lunch.

Hint: Your local train station! The lunch counters in those places get lots of traffic (read: fresh!), also have perfect options for men (reubens!), and won't suck away that entire Andrew Jackson in your skyrocket...


5. Flowers
After a lunchtime quickie in the handicapped bathroom behind the Amtrak counter, as she endures that long, humiliating walk back to the office, kept alive only by that special 'glow,' all upset she had to leave you looking all cute and cuddly, crumpled up on the broken toilet seat, all sweaty and falling asleep, there's nothing a lady wants more than flowers.
So, if after all this courting you still care for her, don't drop the ball--spend.

Hint: The female of the species has a certifiable genetic weakness for red shit--get the cheapest red flowers you see at the CVS and you'll not only be a fiscal Einstein, but you'll prob be in like Flint for a second-round afternooner.


6. Dinner
Dinner is a tough one. It's like, 'okay, so I took her to breakfast and lunch, but now what? I'm out of ideas!'
Hero alert--dinner.
I know it's more expensive than a movie, I know it's a lot more pressure, I know there's a lot less chance of a hand-job, but if you're gonna marry this girl you gotta be able to sit across the table from her for an hour in an Olive Garden off the highway. It's just that simple--you'd rather find out now than later, right? Right.

Hint: Girls love a flashy car--so hang a tree from the mirror and put a bucket of soapy water, a sponge, and the dustbuster in your trunk, pull up outside the Home Depot, and give some starving dude $5 to do you up right for the night (or give him less--maybe start with $1 and bargain your way up!)

Bonus Hint: Hide a pack of Magnums in your glovebox and ask her to find something in there at some point. Can't hurt!!!


7. Engagement Ring
Once you've taken a woman to dinner--and if everything went well in the bedroom/backseat afterward (I'm talking anal here, folks, let's not beat around the bush! LOL!)--it is now appropriate to ask for the lady's hand in marriage.
Once you've casually dropped her off at her parents' house at 5am and coasted down the hill in neutral as you enter her name into your phone, you have a lot to consider before downing a half-bottle of Beam in the park and heading to the library to troll servicemerchandise.com for a good deal on a medium-grade cubic zirconium.
First off, do you still feel a non-herpes burning in your loins? That means you really love her and you should make an honest woman out of her--especially because there's a 50% chance she's already pregnant and you'll have to pay to raise the kid anyway, as well as for her to live in a trailer and smoke Virginia Slim 100s and drink a gallon of Carlo Rossi a day.
Trust me--it's cheaper to just marry her and make her sleep in the garage.

Hint: As far as the proposal goes, you should perform this act with the greatest of care.
8. Honeymoon
Once her wedding's over with--and she signed the pre-nup under the supervision of accredited legal representation--you need to make sure the honeymoon rocks. Bring plenty of bad American beer (you never know), a few changes of underwear, some wines, and a Playboy or three to keep you in the mood for the weekend.
As far as the location goes, that is really dependant on season--NASCAR, NFL, NBA, NHL--because you should always be sure to be where the action is. If for some reason you are are getting married in a rare window (does it exist? haven't our scientists worked this out yet?) when one of these seasons is not in full swing, I recommend Italy because they have good food and cool cars and it's where romance began and chicks love that shit.

Hint: Make sure to bring every sex toy your grossest friend has ever heard of, cuz ya never know--girls are freakier than we are, you know...


9. Forever 21 shopping spree
Now that you got a bride, you need to make ensure she cuts a certain profile on the town. She has to be classy, she has to be sexy, she has to look moneyed--or you will look quite the fool.
Recommendation: Take her to Forever21 and let her spend at least $100--this should net her a full week's worth of sexy dresses.
Once purchased and safely stored in your closet at home, hand over one dress for each blow-job delivered. Once they all fall apart two weeks later, you can simply put your better half back in nude storage til your next paycheck comes. Repeat.

Hint: Not only should everybody know she's the finest broad in town, but they need to know she's YOUR broad--do you have a spirit animal? Is it a tiger? If you don't know, it's probably a tiger, so make sure she picks up a faux-silk cape with an enormous roaring tiger face on it and wears it every time she leaves the apartment. Trust me--nobody will fuck with your little peach once they know she's 'yours.'


10. Toe Ring
Alright, so you made it to your second anniversary. Congratulations--you're now ready for a toe ring.
Remember when you bought one for that stripper you got pregnant in Michigan? Well, let's hope you were smart enough to get two for the price of one at Claire's, because once that bastard sucks air and the pangs of guilt wash over you like so many imperceptible, oddly-soothing breezes, you'll really wish you had one at no extra expense, to give your wife as a token of your secret guilt (or because you forgot your anniversary or maybe that you were even married).
If somebody around town has already told the missus about your adorable 'predicament,' best get a couple more toe rocks, to not only blind her with bling, but remind her on what side her bread is buttered.

Hint: With a toe ring, always err on the side of too big. If it doesn't fit on her piggy of choice, chances are it will either fit on a fatter one or she'll grow into it--the one thing you can count on when it comes to women is they always get bigger.


Well, I think the bars are about to clear out here, which means it's high time this ole minx hit 'cruise' control on the ole steering column, if you know what I mean.

Hope this information helps you in your romancing or, if not you, me.

Toodles!

- goodtime

_

Ten Dollars and Two Goats for the Ugly One!

Oh, this beautiful planet, this fantastic sphere...such resplendent secrets you hold in store!

Somewhere in southern Bulgaria--just south of the donkey, make a right at the at the weird-looking rock, if you see the rabid she-wolf chained to the petrified witch you've gone too far--they still sell women in the town square.

Even though I'm sure this is a tradition that has been a part of the Roma culture for a long time, interestingly, the ugly old mothers have yet to learn that they should NOT stand so close to their daughters and show the prospective husbands what their daughters will look like in twenty years. Yikes! And it's not like it was so easy a sale to begin with, mama!

"At the market in the village of Mogila near Stara Zagora, the price of a beautiful young woman is said to be several thousand levs/euros."

So...wait--how much do non-beautiful girls fetch? I mean, that would seem a more relevant question for this journalist to answer, seeing as none of the girls in the accompanying photos could be considered beautiful.

And what about interviewing some of the men, the vaunted customers? How do they save up so much money? What is it they do for a living? What do they look for in a bride when they go shopping? Do they check their teeth like they do those of horses? Is virginity prized in the women, yet never expected from the men doing the purchasing? How often do girls go to these before they sell, on average?

Why is there so little text accompanying these photos, about such a fascinating subject?

Can I interview the person who wrote this article? And then get funded to go cover this event myself next year?

I think the world would be a lot better off if I could, for some hard-to-describe reason...

_

Mother Knows Best?

Okay, so the woman my mom wants me to marry looked pretty good the other night, at her work function. All these years, ever since my mom first laid eyes on her, I've been hemming and hawing because I just wasn't sure she was sexy enough to "get my engine going," if you know what I mean. Today, I may have changed my mind. (!!!)

Okay, before I continue, I feel like you should know something about me right off: I have certain standards when it comes to the fairer sex. My future wife, god bless her little marathon-runner's heart, will be so attractive, her beauty will feel like a handicap. Her youthful glow will blind me with every gaze, quarters will be easily deflected by any and every inch of her body, her mere smell will turn me into a slavering monster, grotesque with desire. Yet, for her part, she will feel hideously ugly and, therefore, fawn all over me, unfailingly grateful for my tolerance, my against-all-odds love. And she must also be exceptionally intelligent and cool--tres cool.

So you see what a noteworthy day it is when I can confidently state that I am considering taking a bride. Once my assistant, Thrombosis, is able to interview and examine said candidate--and provided she passes the rigorous 5-point inspection test (1. unit, 2. face, 3. brain, 4. skin, 5. that certain, special something)--we'll have a better idea of where this will lead. For now, please clear your schedules for the rest of the year--there may be a storybook wedding in store for you after all!

[Note: Yes, I am fully aware Ms. Heigl married longtime beau Josh Kelly on Dec.24, 2007. If Jerry Seinfeld can steal a bride on her honeymoon, I shouldn't have any trouble with Josh--hence my cool, calm demeanor.]