I spy with my little eye, boobs pretending to be dudes

Before I begin today's column, cool shit is happening all the time. Not only can I be googled, but I am on the urban dictionary. for those who do not know, http://www.urbandictionary.com is one of my favorite websites, that basically gives dictionary definitions for all of our favorite slang. Not sure what that hobo meant when he said he wanted to give you a Cleveland Steamer when you dropped some Lint and 4 dirty pennies in his coffee? Go check it out!

Now so far my column has been aimed at the fellas, telling you how to infiltrate the minds and pants of whichever conquest you desire. Today deals with the flipside of this. It deals with women who attempt to break into your safe zones in the attempt to spy on you and tell her girl friends all about what we do when they're not around. I'm talking about the dude with boobs.


Not the fat guy either

I'm talking about the girl you know that only hangs out with the guys. Every group has at least one of these girls. She doesn't date anyone of the Boyz, although she may have slept with most of them (if she hasn't slept with you, it really sucks, cuz normally these chicks are serious freaks). She might have started out as one of the Boyz sister's friends, but for one reason or another hangs out more with the Boyz than with the girls she was supposed to see. Also no one really knows how she keeps getting invited over. None of the Boyz will take credit for inviting her, but she always seems to know where you're going to be and when (Considering we spend a lot of time ending up at Selvin's it's a pretty safe bet, but still). I'll solve that mystery right now. You know that one guy who hasn't at least fingerbanged her? He's the one who keeps cluing her in. Kick his ass or make him buy the beers (whichever is your punishment for being a douche).

She tries to act like a guy, but expects to be treated like a handicap. She wants every little piece of sports knowledge to be received like an indication of how cool she is. Bram brought up an interesting point to me the other day (He's back from Boston now, so the quality of these articles should go steadily up, stay tuned we have some doozies coming up). He says, "What's the deal with these chicks? they think knowing who's playing means they're in the game" I of course started laughing hysterically, because I knew exactly what he was talking about. If one of your Boyz came up to you and said, "New York and Montreal are playing tonight right? See I'm cool!" you would beat the fag right out of him, basically until you got tired, only afterwards (and after everyone in the room had the chance to make fun of him at least once) would he be considered marginally cool. Ladies, its not enough to know who's playing, you have to know why we like who we like, and why we hate who we hate, and what the impact of every other game means to us (boy does it suck when you want Toronto to win though, even if it solidifies us in the playoffs. Seriously I had to shower twice this morning).

Highlights don't even count in Hair Dye

It's also aggravating when a girl says "I need to watch the highlights...for my daily fix". This is like a guy saying "I only go to the strip club cuz it's my buddy's birthday". You say these words and we immediately assume you're full of shit. We watch the highlights because there are games you missed, it's impossible to watch everything (no matter how hard Future Shop tries to push Picture-in-Picture). You watch the Highlights because you don't actually like watching a whole game. There's more to the sport than goals and hits. it's about getting so into the goals that you wake up people who are supposed to be on meds, and so into the hits that you accidentally spill beer on the guy next to you, and he doesn't realize it until ten minutes later and thinks he did it to himself, and doesn't mention it to anyone. Also he pulls his shirt down lower because he looks like he pissed himself. Also I'm going to mention he wet himself, because even though I know he didn't because I'm the one who spilled it on him, I'm a bit of an asshole.

She knows EVERYTHING

If there's one thing worse than the girl who knows nothing about sports, it's the one that knows everything. What's the first thing she's going to do with that newfound knowledge? try and make you look stupid. It's not about having all of the facts, it's about having the conviction to make your friends agree with you, even when you're wrong, especially when you're wrong. The Barbies are next to the teaset CupCake, and the babies are upstairs.

Beware the friendless ones

What would you think about a guy who said he was incapable of having male friends because he just "didn't like the way they act"? You'd think there was something really wrong with him, right ladies? Well we think the same thing about you girls who can't stand other girls. Also we think it might be the other girls who can't stand you, and why should we have to, if your own gender doesn't want to be associated with the train wreck that is your life. If there's one thing I've learned from the women in my life, it's that they are generally a lot nicer to the ones that are considered losers than men. If they can't stand you, then you have no chance with the Boyz.

Yesterday was a great day, Crosby got a goal and an assist (I love the Habs, but I am all about the Penguins if it comes down to it, that kid got me back into hockey), We had a decisive win against New York, and Girly fell asleep in my bed while the final minutes wound down. She didn't try and talk to me about my feelings or anything like that. She snuggled up to me me when I finally got to bed and half asleep asked me "did we win?" when I said yes, she said "That's nice, I'm happy you're happy" and fell back asleep. She gets the point. She's my Girly, and knows that means that most of my time is hers, she doesn't need to steal my time from me too. And I was happy, because even though the Boyz weren't all together for this one, we did manage to work out some playoff ticket grab scheme that involves scalping to cover the cost of our tix, beer weed and lapdances...because it's Bram's Birthday....


Cheers! First round's on...anyone but me!