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Thumbing through a box of things from my wedding weekend I discovered a few interesting items: props, chains and safety goggles from my nuptial night; a vial of tears from when Ted tried to give his best man speech; and a notebook full of rejected marriage vows.

When you get married, custom dictates that you make a series of promises to your betrothed. Thanks, custom! The problem is that it’s almost impossible to promise something now when you have no idea how you’ll act in the future – it just doesn’t make any sense.

As such, I struggled to land on exactly the right things to say to Robin. Below are the vows I ultimately decided were too personal, too hopeful, or simply too difficult to share with everyone during our wedding.

– I vow to love you forever, unconditionally, unless you pudge out, in which case I’m a Barney-shaped hole in the wall.

– I promise to be there for you in sickness and health, but maybe in the next room if you’re super sick… like mucus-filled tissues thrown everywhere and stuff, because ewww.

– I will always be as faithful to you as I possibly can.

– I vow to stick with you through thick and thin… provided we agree upon an acceptable definition of “thick.” With that in mind, we should also settle on units of measurement: Pounds? Waist size? BMI? 

– All of my possessions that you know about are now your possessions.

– I vow not to have your Grandma help me fix snacks anymore.

– I vow to disappear for only a week during my annual bro trip to Columbia (“Brogota what what?!”).

– I vow to financially support any breast augmentation you seek, as long as you’re going bigger. Duh. 

– I promise to always celebrate the anniversary of this special day with you, unless it conflicts with a major sporting event, gambling trip, or marathon online gaming session. Also, there’s a good chance I’ll forget, so sorry in advance… though maybe you should’ve said something the day before. 

– I vow to not get mad at you for getting mad at me for screwing up.

– You will always be the most beautiful person in the world to me – at least, until the wrinkles arrive.

– I vow to start watching hockey with you… once a month… No, once a year. Nope, hockey’s dumb, not watching it. And neither are you, woman. Now make me French toast.

– I vow to eventually remove all photographic evidence of previous conquests from our shared online cloud folder.

– I vow to keep you in the dark about certain personal assets and activities so that in the event of legal action or government seizure you can invoke plausible deniability.

– I vow to do everything in my power to look identical to the way I do right now, up to and including facial and other body-part reconstruction. Okay, your turn. 

Ever since Blauman stole the accidental curly from my order of fries, the need for someone to codify proper appetizer etiquette has been eating away at me, pun fully intended.

The problem is this: because of science, men are biologically programmed to consume everything put in front of them. Unlike their female counterparts, guys don’t get the chance to learn sharing at “tea parties” or “sweet sixteens” or “make-out sleepover parties.” As a result, upwards of fifteen adult women can peaceably share a small salad and talk about purses, periods and penis length while two dudes can’t even make it through the first quarter of an NBA game without starting a fistfight over a basket of fried pickles.

Since we live in a world that’s unlikely to stop offering buckets of beer and thirty oysters at frighteningly affordable rates, we need to institute a civilized system that ensures “happy hour” doesn’t always become “sort of happy hour.”

Here now for the first time are Barney Stinson’s Rules for Appetizers.

POTATO SKINS
1)    Never call them “Irish Nachos” – that’s offensive. Our forefathers didn’t break their AMERICAN backs to have their delicious, potato-based, cheese, bacon and scallion concoction stolen by the Irish. They can keep their soda bread and Guinness, but that’s it. Also, Happy St. Patrick’s day!

2)    Don’t go straight for the tater skin loaded with the most sour cream. Dance the dance a little. Sometimes the mystery of who gets it is actually more delicious than the actual potato skin… that’s especially true the longer you wait.

3)    Do not bring up your “bacon allergy” when I’m ordering, Ted. I want bacon and also, that’s not a thing. Your mom told me she made that up. You know, pillow talk…‬

NACHOS
1)    If – after silently agreeing upon a specific allotment of nachos for each Bro – there’s one nacho left and nobody’s claimed it for a period of six minutes, it’s up for grabs. (Rule also applies to pizza, potato skins, mozzarella sticks and all other appetizers.)

2)    We’re not getting “vegetarian nachos.”

3)    We’re not getting “jalapenos on the side.” Commit or opt out of the plate.

4)    At no point is acceptable for a Bro to simply pluck the one chip that’s got everything on it. Obviously the prep chef didn’t take the time to evenly space out the chips before plopping on the good stuff so now there’s one chip loaded up with all the riches – it’s the 1% of nachos. And you know how it got there? By pulling itself up by its chip-straps and earning those toppings. And now you want to just scoop it all off and distribute evenly among some stupid, lazy chips? If anything, the other nachos should strive to be that chip instead of belly-aching to Congress about “inequality” and “consumer rights” and “SUPER PACs that ensure you can still buy an election fair and square.” Maybe if – instead of all that whining – those chips would put their head down and put in an honest day’s work exchanging insider trade secrets, inheriting a fortune, buying companies and running them into the ground for profit, or devising some other clever way to take advantage of poor chips they’d wind up with a little more shredded beef on their face. Just saying.

CHICKEN WINGS
1)    The Bro who will most likely be picking up the tab gets first crack at all drumsticks. If the check will be split, everyone will be relegated to an equal amount of drumsticks. If you have a Bro who prefers wings to drumsticks, keep an eye on him because let’s face it – those things are weird and sometimes have tendons and they’re gross. Not sure why we haven’t invented a chicken that’s all legs and no wings. Let’s get on that, science.

2)    Don’t eat all the celery up front. Celery acts as a “cooler” and when everyone finishes wings and are then looking to cool down with some celery and blue cheese, you’ll look like a real jerk if you’ve already eaten them all.
a.    Sub section: If you’re on the Paleo diet just order your own celery, and maybe just sit at another table or something because nobody likes you.

3)    Ranch vs. Blue Cheese is the Middle East crisis of the starters menu. It’s best to simply order both and let them have their own space on the table.

CALAMARI
1)    Please.

PIZZA
1)    If Bros are sharing a pizza and it’s that stupid kind that has a bunch of tiny square pieces instead of awesome triangle pieces, a Bro is entitled to as many middle pieces as he’d like, but only allowed a second “crust piece” once everyone has taken a minimum of one “crust piece.”‬

2)    If – in the process of removing a slice – a neighboring slice annexes a blanket of cheese and/or toppings, a Bro has three seconds to reclaim his losses or else they become legal property of the annexing slice.

3)    ‪If a Bro wants to put pineapple or other fruit on the pizza simply tell Ted to get his own pie.‬ And sit at another table because that fruit pizza’s gonna take up an awful lot of real estate.

ONION RINGS
1)    A strict “one ring per Bro” policy should be followed since onion rings should never be shared. When you try to split one it always turns into that spaghetti scene from “Lady and the Tramp”… or so I’ve heard. I’ve certainly never seen that movie, or been reduced to tears every time at the end because Tramp is forced to give up banging random chick dogs because he knocked up Lady. It’s like, “Get yourself fixed, Tramp! Problem solved!” Stupid dog.

2)    If you’re not playing with your onion rings by fashioning fried eyeglasses, entrapping condiment bottles in a prison of oscillating rings a la the start of Superman, or making raunchy suggestions in which the onion rings are parts of the female anatomy, then maybe you just don’t “get” onion rings.

MOZZERELLA STICKS
1)    Nobody eats a mozzy stick until all Bros agree they have sufficiently cooled down. Those things come out of the kitchen like breaded chunks of lava and I will not be penalized because I’m not interested in burning the top of my mouth. I don’t care how “burn-intolerant” Marshall’s app-hole is, it’s just not fair.

2)    NO MARINARA SAUCE. We’ve got suits to think about, fellas.

3)    Ted can eat all the decorative lettuce he wants from under the sticks. Hey Ted, why don’t you put it on your pizza with the pineapple. Haha, INTOLERANT BURN!

QUESADILLA
1)    See: “Nachos” and “Pizza.”

SAMPLER PLATTER
1)    The Sampler Platter is fool’s gold. We order it thinking we’ll eat like kings only to discover there’s like two tater skins, half a ‘dilla, three mozzy sticks and, if you’re lucky, a thimble of sour cream. It’s a joke. That’s why you always ask the server how many items come per order. There’s nothing worse than hurt feelings when the plate arrives.

KALE CHIPS
1)    One of the brassica vegetables, kale is known to contain chemicals that fight the development of cancer cells, aid in the management of cholesterol, and catalyze fat digestion. And now they’re in chip form, so they’ll be just as delicious as a bowl full of salt and vinegar potato chips! Let’s do this, people!

2)    Meh.

An open letter to the Better Business Broreau…

To Whom It May Concern,

I am writing to share my frustration with The Mosby Boys Detective Agency (a.k.a. “Ted”).  The Mosby Boys are headed by Theodore Evelyn Mosby, an incompetent “man” who has no business leading an organization.  And I should know… I’m his best friend.

Here are some of the issues I’ve encountered in far too many interactions with the Mosby Boys:

SOLICITATION
The Mosby Boys have been known to launch investigations without consent.  Actually, Ted has launched all of his investigations after being expressly told not to.

BUSINESS PRACTICES
Mosby Boys investigators frequently present theories in a pompous and drawn-out fashion.  On one occasion, after I couldn’t find my phone in the bar, Ted led us on a fruitless, three-hour re-enactment tour around the city before returning to the bar, where I discovered it was in my suit pocket the whole time.

UN-PROFESSIONALISM
The Mosby Boys uniform appears to be a flannel shirt purchased at a grocery store, ill-fitting jeans, and domestic shoes.

TRAINING
Ted’s collegiate degrees are in the field of architecture, not forensic science.  Ted seems to think all he needs is a wrinkled trench coat, a vintage magnifying glass he originally purchased as a “conversation piece,” and a stack of Dick Tracy comic books I found in what I previously-assumed to be his porn box.

UNSOLVED CASES
The Mosby Boys have an unbelievably bad record at solving mysteries.  They’re like the Cleveland sports team of private investigators.  Here are a few of their most notable failures:

– “The Case of the Deleted Frontlines” – Despite living with a Canadian at the time, Ted was unable to get to the bottom of who erased his PBS documentaries from the DVR to make room for Stanley Cup playoff games.

– “The Case of the Single Ted” – After some thirty years spent gathering evidence, Ted still has no answer for his perpetual singleness.  It wouldn’t be such a tragedy if he actually took advantage of being unattached.

– “The Case of the Crappy Dresser” – Related to the above, but Ted still hasn’t figured out that your belt should match your shoes.

– “The Case of the Vanishing Hotties” – I was in the bar working on a rare twins scenario when Investigator Mosby plopped down at the table and started rehashing clues from “The Case of the Overcharging Dry-Cleaner.”  Next thing I know, the twins had disappeared.  Still working on that one, Ted???

– “The Pineapple Incident” – One day we’ll let him in on this one.

Ho ho ho!

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Sale ends on 13. March 2014

If he’s a good king (like me) and his subjects have been loyal (like you) he may choose to not only grace them with his presence but also with presents. Word play five! Of course I’m using the phrase “grace them with presents” loosely insofar as I’m not really giving you presents as much I’m selling you my old clothes, but I digress.

Here are ten of my old suits that I’m willing to let go for rock bottom prices.

BLUE PINSTRIPE – I bought this because I thought the pinstripes would help make me look like a Yankee. Spoiler alert: they did. It also didn’t hurt that whenever I wore it I carried a bat and a ball, chewed tobacco, and introduced myself as Jorge Posada. This would go on to become a very expensive legal problem. $3,565

WHITE LINEN – There’s only two people in the world who can pull off a white linen suit: Me and the God of Rock himself, David Lee Roth. Who wore it better? Let’s just call it a tie… you know, in case he’s reading. $8,495

DOUBLE-BREASTED ITALIAN – When my tailor called and offered to squeeze me into a double-breasted Italian I nearly fainted. I discovered he was talking about a suit and NOT some Milanese fashion model only after showing up at his door with a fiasco of Chianti and a sleeve of condoms. But the suit is just gorgeous. $4,000

AL CAPONE – For most of my life I thought the word “gangster” simply meant awesome. But then I found out there’s a second definition of the word, which is “well-dressed.” This suit actually belonged to Al Capone, a notoriously awesome and well-dressed man. Let’s just say when you don this number, the ladies won’t find you untouchable. $9,600

BIRTHDAY SUIT – Made from only the finest invisible linen, this number is perfect for celebration. Let’s say… $1,000?

THREE-BUTTON HERRINGBONE – More like “three-button herringbone.” Whoa, weird. I didn’t even have to do anything to that word. Anyway, let’s just say this suit lived up to its name. Unrelated, you should definitely get this thing dry cleaned before wearing it. Heck, maybe even wet cleaned. $2,775

SUIT-JAMAS – For the distinguished sleeper. These classy bedtime threads offer the best in comfort and style while offering an easy access “pee pee hole” and “bum bum flap.” Don’t be fooled by unauthorized Australian replicas – buy the real thing. $1,100 USD

SMOKING JACKET – This one is devastating to part with. It’s the smoking jacket Hef used to wear while puttering around the mansion. If you’re wondering what pants go with it then this obviously isn’t the jacket for you. $186,472

SCUBA SUIT – I’ve used this suit to pick up dozens of lovely ladies in MacLaren’s and a few slightly-less-lovely ladies down by the docks. Comes with goggles, snorkel, oxygen tank and corpse locator beacon. (Note: This is a prop suit. If you try to dive with it, you will die.) $3,180

SAVILE ROW THREE-PIECE – For years this three-piece beauty was my go-to uniform for weddings, bar mitzvahs and the AVN Awards. The only reason I’m getting rid of it is because Ted said he really likes it. $0

As you know I hail from a long line of influential historical figures, from the Babylon King Barnnurabi, to the Roman Emperor Barnus Aurelious, to the American President Barnaham Lincoln, to the Goliath National Bank corporate officer Barney Stinson.  Today we remember another significant man: Dr. J. Barnert Stinsonheimer, inventor of Stinson’s Hangover Fixer Elixir, which helped end World War II.

During the Second World War, the allied forces had grown tired of getting repeatedly bombed by kamikazes and needed a cure for the debilitating hangovers threatening freedom across the globe.  The Americans turned to Dr. J. Barnert Stinsonheimer, a leading scientist in the field of theoretical phys-sex.

Dr. Stinsonheimer began research in 1941 and set up his laboratory in Oak Ridge, Tennessee, to be closer to America’s finest whiskey and bourbon distilleries.  There he pioneered such early hangover remedies as the hair of the atomic dog, cold showers in heavy water, and the all-day CSI marathon, but wasn’t satisfied with the results.

Growing sick of country music, Dr. Stinsonheimer moved his operation to Los Alamos, New Mexico, where the constant sunshine and heat helped reproduce the sweats and squint-based headaches so common to hangovers.  Over the next few years Stinsonheimer tested various cures in the desert, refining his formula until finally landing on the Fixer Elixir in the spring of 1944.  They threw a big party in celebration only to discover in horror that they hadn’t enriched enough Funyun particles to cure themselves the next morning.  Plus, they were low on toilet paper.

After introducing the world to his Hangover Fixer Elixir, Dr. Stinsonheimer was awarded the Brobel Peace Prize, and a bevy of Swedish babes.

‘

Click here for Barney’s Swedish Babes Gallery

If you’ve been reading this blog for the last nine years, which you have, then you’re familiar with some of the universal rules I’ve selflessly shared, like, “If she’s over thirty she better get dirty,” “Stealing hotel shampoo on your first night can triple your haul,” and “Don’t get fat.”

From time to time this running list violates that very last rule and I find it necessary to boil it down to only the most essential. So here now, for your reading pleasure, I present the one true rule for leading an awesome life. Err, three rules. Sorry, make that five simple rules. Okay, now it’s fifteen. Twenty. I’m capping it at twenty! Here are the thirty rules everyone should follow.

30 RULES TO AN AWESOME LIFE

1. Play laser tag once a week.
2. Tip generously. We ALL have to make up for Ted.
3. Don’t get married before you’re thirty.
4. Always open a door for a lady. Even if she’s ugly.
5. Own at least one suit, but twelve if you can.
6. Keep your apartment chilly. Nipples reveal themselves at temperatures below 60° F / 150° C.
7. An easy way to score chicks is to pose as a NASCAR driver because they’re rich, dangerous, and nobody knows what they look like because, duh, helmets.
8. Mani-pedis are not just for girls, but drinks with umbrellas emphatically are, Marshall.
9. Two never-fail ways to grease a bouncer: Slip him a $20, or compliment his neck muscles.
10. Have a “guy” for everything.
11. If it seems like the group is almost ready to go, play it safe and yell, “Shotgun!”
12. Remove your keys from your front pocket before receiving a lap dance. It’s called respect. Plus, you’ll feel it on your junk more.
13. Learning to play the air drums will save your life one day.
14. Give at least as many high fives as you get.
15. Subscribe to “O” magazine. It’s full of great tips and tricks for around the house.
16. Have sex in a bathroom stall.
17. If you ever find yourself in a tricky situation, ask yourself, “What would Ted do?” and do the exact opposite.
18. Teacup pigs might be lady-magnets, but they apparently don’t digest chocolate.
19. If you ever meet a contortionist, I swear to God don’t you ever let her go. I am so serious about this. I gotta sit down or something. Maybe drink some water.
20. Trying to ogle two boobs at the same time is like reading in a car – it’ll make you sick.
21. If you’re older than 30 and you do get married, accept the fact that throw pillows will become a big part of your life.
22. Magic is cool, despite what you may have heard from everyone you’ve ever talked to.
23. Never use the word “moist” on a first date.
24. Lick the Liberty Bell.
25. When visiting a strip club, do not sleep on the meatballs. They’re exquisite.
26. Whatever your lifelong dream is, forget it. Your lifelong dream is now “Meet Hugh Hefner.”
27. Do ten little-toe crunches every morning and maybe one day he won’t cry all the way home.
28. Do unto others as you’d have done unto you. Except mouth stuff because, eww, gross.
29. Slender wife, happy life.
30. And most importantly, whatever happens in this life, it’s not legendary unless your friends are there to see it.

The holidays often bring about strong feelings in people: nostalgia, thankfulness, and, of course, horniness.  That means for gents and ladies on the prowl, you don’t necessarily need to bring your A-game.  In fact, the holidays present the perfect opportunity to utilize the minimum effort required of mankind’s most basic move – the pick-up line.

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HISTORICAL FACTOID:  Did you know that the first pick-up line was actually the first instance of human language?  A Neanderthal man approached a hairy Neanderthal chick and said: “If I show you my bone will you show me your cave?”
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Here are some lazy but effective lines to try out during the holidays:

Presidents’ Day:  I’d like to visit YOUR oval office. 

Groundhog Day:  My hog can’t help but see his shadow.

Valentine’s Day:  Single?

St. Patrick’s Day:  I will shamrock your world.

Arbor Day:  I wanna make you bark. / Check out my trunk. / I’d like to give you my branch and then leave. (Treeway tie)

Cinco De Mayo: Wanna have breakfast on Sixo de Mayo?

Memorial Day:  You make it hard to fly my flag at half-staff.  

Labor Day:  It’s Labor Day, baby, why are you workin’ it?

Election Day: More like “Erection Day!”  

Thanksgiving: Anything involving stuffing!