If I’m in a club bathroom with a gringo friend talking in English, there will be at least one native who understands our banter and asks where we’re from. In the Duff bathroom I ended up meeting a Chilean who studied in Los Angeles.

“Chilean girls are tough,” I said.

“Do you talk to the girls in English or Spanish?”

“I start off in Spanish. ¿Habla inglés?”

“No no no that’s wrong. Always start in English.”

“They won’t even understand.”

“That’s the point. You need to play up that you’re an outsider right away. At least for the first three minutes speak in English only. It’s different and exciting—they will laugh and enjoy it.”

“Then after three minutes?”

“Start moving into Spanish. By then it won’t matter because you got their attention. Always talk in English first.”

Then I thought back to the night in Santiago with Rodrigo where I started in English by accident and got in pretty well with the group. Even though asking habla inglés already implies that I speak English, I decided that this random bathroom guy knew what he was talking about.

Even though this lesson seems trivial on the surface, at the time I thought it was rather groundbreaking. About a week later I ended up in Cordoba where my entire existence was about getting my Argentine flag. I met another guy there named the Predator whose moves I put in the book are ones that I still use every now and then.

Here’s part of a review of A Deat Bat In Paraguay from Tyler:

There was no sugar coating or diluting any of the experiences he went through. Stories that some people would take to their grave, Roosh wrote in black and white for the world to read. That’s what made this book so funny but also so intriguing. After some of his stories, you realize he is giving you the full experience and holding nothing back.

“I sat in the front seat and the chubby girl got on my lap. I positioned her body in a way that much of her weight was against the door instead of crushing my body.”

While I was reading this book, I was doing a little bit of traveling of my own. I was up in Maine at one point, staying in this vacation cabin with a girl. One night while she was getting ready for bed I was reading through a few chapters and I began laughing. Imagining how some of this stuff went down, I was reading it out loud. She kept wanting me to read more of it.

Here’s part of a very in-depth review from Ferdinand Bardamu:

An important part of any book is its diction, and on this front, A Dead Bat in Paraguay is as smooth and pleasing to read as a good wine is to drink. An acolyte of the Hemingway school of literary writing, Roosh shies away from flowery descriptions and overblown metaphors, relaying his story with an understatement that conveys imagery and emotion in its own way. His bone-dry sense of humor pervades his prose at almost all times, with lines like “I made love with the toilet.” Roosh is awfully fond of toilet humor in the literal sense – a lot of the laughs come from his loving descriptions of the painful, explosive bowel movements he had while on the road. No mere clown, though, he also retells the struggles of his journey with a bluntness that gets the reader invested emotionally. A large part of the narrative is Roosh’s attempts to hook up with the local women in the various places he visits, only to be met with repeated failure. His constant battle to adapt his game to the cultural idiosyncrasies of the women who he tries to bed is so compelling that when he finally meets success, you’ll want to cheer.

The frankness and honesty of A Dead Bat in Paraguay is a refreshing change from the fake, phony, and fraudulent memoirs that have flooded the book world in recent years, but it also hurts the book in some ways. Any good storyteller has the ability to bullshit with aplomb, and Roosh isn’t quite there yet. His emphasis on relaying the details of his trip has too much of a “just the facts, ma’am” feel to it, as if he was writing a college paper and not a commercial book. The weakness of this approach culminates in the book’s ending, which just sucks. In fact, it isn’t really an “ending” – the book just sort of stops.

In pointing out these issues, I don’t want come off as being too critical. In a literary world full of flotsam, jetsam, and other varieties of garbage, Roosh Vörek has produced something remarkable and memorable.

And a short one from a reader:

Just finished your book. Thought it was great. I cannot give you a good review that you are able to post because it would suck if I even tried, but I really appreciated the book, and I am proud to have it on my bookshelf now. I’ve always liked how you tell it how it is and how you are completely honest with yourself. You’ve been inspiring for awhile and that book made you even more. Thanks for everything.

I thank these guys for their reviews.

You can learn more about getting a copy at the A Dead Bat In Paraguay homepage. Also if you go to buy the ebook version of one of my books, I offer my other one at a pretty nice discount, kind of like when you go to the movie theater and they ask if you want to upgrade your beverage size for 40 cents more.

Someone emailed to ask me if I was writing a sequel to DBIP, and the answer is a definite no. Not only do I not want to touch memoir writing for a while, but the past seven months have been enjoyable without the violent ups and downs that would make a good story. A book about me generally getting what I want from life wouldn’t be very compelling. I may put out a brief epilogue though after I return to Rio.

P.S. My second book is called A Dead Bat In Paraguay and is now out in paperback or eBook. Described as "honest," "fearless," and "inspiring," it's a 262 page fast-paced memoir of when I quit my job and tried to bang my way across South America. Check out its home page for a video introduction.

“Always Start In English”

The first thing I thought of was the $1,000 deposit that I authorized the agency to put on my credit card. I knew if I called them to say I fucked up and got the buggy stuck they’d want to charge me the whole thing or at least a big chunk of it.

I had a cell phone but the balance was $1.50, enough only for a three-minute conversation. Even if the agency wouldn’t eat my whole deposit, I had no idea how to direct them to where I was. Yeah I’m by some beach, partway up some hill, near some birds feasting on a hippo carcass. It would take multiple phone calls of several minutes length.

You really feel alive when the stakes are raised. I’m thinking about the $1,000 while trying to figure out a solution at the same time. My instinct was to panic but I’m a sensible man so I decided to use my brain.

After two minutes I started to panic and tried to push the buggy out myself. I got in front of it, grabbed onto the oily railing, and started pushing as hard as I could. Of course it didn’t move.

If only I could push and hit the gas at the same time! I got in the buggy, punched it in reverse, then placed a big bottle of water on the gas as I removed my foot. I stepped out and with my left hand pushing the bottle down on the gas, I used my right arm and shoulder to try and push the machine. It still didn’t move.

I studied the buggy and figured that three or four guys could probably push it out. Then I came up with the idea to find the nearest town and hire a few idle teenagers to help me.

I got on the beach and started jogging. I was hoping there would soon be civilization with tow trucks, gas stations, and a McDonalds for a double cheeseburger snack. Finally after 30 minutes of running a small fishing village emerged in the distance.

I approached the town slowly, catching my breath, and noticed people on the beach staring at me like I was the Yeti emerging from a wintry forest. I saw a handful of guys lingering near the main square and started rehearsing what I would say to them in Portuguese… “My buggy is stuck… can you help me?… I can give you that paper money.”

Before I had to say anything a buggy approached. It must’ve crossed the shallow water that I chickened out on earlier. I flagged him down and the first thing he said was, “Is that your buggy out there?” I nodded and he let out a chuckle. Then he told me to hop in, saying he’ll help me get it out. For the rest of the day we’d communicate in Portuguese.

He introduced himself as Roberto. Turns out he drives around tourists like on the tour I took in Natal. We went into the village and stopped by his house first. There I met about eight or nine members of his extended family, and for most of them this was the first time they had ever met an American. Their house was spartan but comfortable, with multiple beds to a room and religious Jesus statues on every table. I answered their curious questions and they complimented my Portuguese, saying my accent is southern, from Rio or São Paulo. I assumed that the books I was learning from gave me the southern accent.

I told them I studied every day and they asked me why. Problem is I’ve never had a good answer to why I’m learning a language. I usually say, “I want to be a cultured person,” but truth is I like the sense of accomplishment from having a conversation in a different tongue. Being able to communicate with people you’re not “supposed” to communicate with is like having a superpower, and a good conversation motivates me to keep studying to better express myself for the next conversation.

The wife handed me a glass of cashew juice (about as tasty as it sounds) and I pretended it was the best juice I’ve ever had in my life. Even though I’m still deathly afraid of getting a digestive illness because of my last trip to South America, I didn’t want to be ungrateful and ask if the juice was prepared in sanitary conditions.

Outside the house Roberto found two idle guys and the four of us hopped in his buggy. We took a backroad across some private farmland and twenty minutes later arrived at the sight of my mistake. While the three of them lifted the rear of each side, I pushed sand underneath the tires as fast as I could. Then Roberto took some air out of them, got inside the buggy, told us to push with all our might, and out it came. It didn’t take more than five minutes.

To add insult to injury, Roberto then effortlessly drove up the same hill I got stuck in. I asked him why I couldn’t do that and he said, “It takes practice.” I felt like an idiot, and imagined Roberto later telling all his friends about the gringo who got a dune buggy stuck in sand.

We went back to town and walked around the center to buy fish caught minutes before. He paraded me to everyone he knew and I answered the same questions repeatedly like a parrot, getting fast enough that people thought I was near fluent in their language. This is where I mention that if you meet a Brazilian girl who has never met a gringo before, she will be very receptive.

Roberto’s wife fed me lunch and introduced me to the Dona, or matriarch of the family. I didn’t ask how old she was but she let’s just say she has occasional dreams of the angel of death. She showed me her garden out back and how each plant treats a health condition. One plant was for heartburn, one was for impotence, and another was for eye problems. “You get the berry and then squeeze the juice right into your eye.”

I said, “This is like a pharmacy!”

“Yes, a natural pharmacy.” Then she gave me some random leaves to chew on which she said will help make me a more vigorous lover in bed. I snatched an extra handful when she wasn’t looking.

The impotence plant

View from the Dona’s house

I left not long after and got back without problems by taking the farmland route, remembering Roberto’s advice to not let the tires spin too fast, among other tips. The things he told me was what you’d hear for driving in the snow.

Compared to the $35 tour in Natal, the costs for my buggy adventure was quite a bit more:

$110: Rental
$30: Gas
$15: Boat passages
$8: Farm passage
$18: Labor costs for the two men that helped
$18: Compensation for Roberto (I offered to pay his gas money)

That’s $200, or about six times more than the tour.

The problem with tours is that nothing really good or really bad will happen. You get a controlled, pleasant experience where all you have to do is push the shutter button. If there’s a problem then you simply sit and wait while your guide figures things out. Though I don’t like judging whether an experience was “worth it” or not based on how much it cost, this was one of the most interesting days I’ve had in South America. I experienced a tough problem, had to work my way out, and in the meantime connected with locals who weren’t already spoiled by gringos. There’s not a whole lot more I could’ve asked for besides a buggy blowjob (by a girl, not Roberto).

Unless there is a chance of something going wrong, it’s hard for me to get excited about doing it. I want to feel alive, and for that to happen there has to be some type of fear or anxiety in the back of my mind that things may not work out in my favor and that I may have to use everything I’m made of to succeed (or survive). This is why I’m not in the United States. It’s true that everything is harder down here, but the payoffs are that much sweeter.

P.S. My second book is called A Dead Bat In Paraguay and is now out in paperback or eBook. Described as "honest," "fearless," and "inspiring," it's a 262 page fast-paced memoir of when I quit my job and tried to bang my way across South America. Check out its home page for a video introduction.

My Dune Buggy Adventure In Pipa, Brazil (Part 2 of 2)

Before Pipa I was in Natal, a generic but safe city built around huge sand dunes. There I paid $35 to take a tour of some northern beaches in a dune buggy along with two other Italian tourists. During the tour we stopped every 15 minutes at some tourist station (it’s a trap!) where we had the opportunity to overpay for food and souvenirs with dozens of other tourists, mostly Brazilians vacationing inside their country.

The most irritating stop was in the middle of an enormous dune that offered impressive views of sand and ocean. Even though it was an inhabitable piece of land, there were three guys waiting right there on top of the sand mountain. One was selling snacks and the other two were selling photo-ops with their exotic animals, a bright green iguana and some sort of marsupial from the Congo. Tourists from buggies already parked paid a buck or two to have the poor creatures placed on their necks while photos were taken, screeching at the animals’ movements on their bodies.

I had a feeling the dune buggy drivers were getting commissions for stopping at every single tourist trap. This was later confirmed at lunch time when we were taken to a restaurant in a ghost town and asked to pay $20 for an all-you-can-eat buffet without any other options nearby. Turns out the drivers eat for free if they bring tourists to the restaurant, an ingenious business ploy by the owner.

I was unsatisfied with the tour. The fun seemed to be driving the buggy instead of riding in the passenger seat, so a week later in Pipa I jumped at the chance to rent one. It was a bit expensive at $110 for the day, but for several days prior I ate cheese and bread sandwiches for dinner, drank cheap Skol beer instead of caipirinhas with Sagatiba, and sold my body on the street, all to cushion the blow to my budget.

The hog (click this photo and others for bigger size)

My biggest fear was getting lost. The map from the agency was like one you’d get when entering an amusement part—definitely not drawn to scale. But turns out I didn’t even need the map. In my buggy I followed the water and it took me down well-worn paths of buggies before me, alternating between sand, rock, and dirt. I was getting the hang of driving the beast and ready to tackle more challenging terrain to see what it was made of.

Birds feasting on a dead hippo

I passed a kitesurfing area and flew down the beach going what I guess to be about 40 mph. There was not a soul around and I enjoyed the isolation from tourists, vendors, and crippled 10-year-olds begging me for money. But then the beach got narrower until finally I was wedged between rock and ocean with a shallow pool of water about eight inches high blocking my path. I had a feeling I could blow through it but high tide seemed to be rolling in and I didn’t want to take a chance.

I backtracked a couple miles and found what seemed to be an alternate sand road going up a steep hill. The sand was thick and unruly so I backed up a good ways to get a running start. I slammed on the gas and flew up the path for the first thirty or so yards, but the buggy abruptly came to a stop with the engine still screaming. I tried to reverse but it wouldn’t move. For five minutes I sat there going forward, backward, forward, backward, forward, backward. I stepped out of the buggy and noticed that I dug the rear tires a third way into the sand, with the muffler literally resting on top of it. I was hopelessly stuck, in the middle of nowhere.

To Be Continued…

P.S. My second book is called A Dead Bat In Paraguay and is now out in paperback or eBook. Described as "honest," "fearless," and "inspiring," it's a 262 page fast-paced memoir of when I quit my job and tried to bang my way across South America. Check out its home page for a video introduction.

My Dune Buggy Adventure In Pipa, Brazil

1. Ability to get laid at will. If you can’t get laid with multiple women, you’re not a real man, plain and simple. If you can’t mate with superior genes then you’re a blight on the human condition, and should be euthanized. What else is there more important to human existence than fucking? Nothing.

There was a time when I couldn’t get laid, when I was a useless parasite on the world, but then I learned and now I am spreading my seed on multiple continents. It’s true I have not had children (as far as I know), but with a flip of a switch this can be accomplished easily. In all likelihood my human destiny will be accidentally achieved rather soon.

2. Personal strength. Can you defend your lifeblood if the shit really hits the fan? Can you protect yourself against an attacker? Otherwise you are not a real man. Personal strength comes in two forms: the confidence to make a stand and the physical apparatus to carry it out. If you fall over at the slightest breeze then are you not suitable for life, and should be terminated. If I can wrap my thumb and index finger around your bicep then you a decaying organism that would perish without the nanny state to keep you safe and warm. While I am not a meathead, I am prepared to fight to the death if my being is threatened or questioned.

Real men are made, not born. If you choose not to be a real man, but instead a half-man like 90% of Western males, then you don’t deserve the benefits that come with it—sex and respect. I cannot imagine living life without either.

P.S. My second book is called A Dead Bat In Paraguay and is now out in paperback or eBook. Described as "honest," "fearless," and "inspiring," it's a 262 page fast-paced memoir of when I quit my job and tried to bang my way across South America. Check out its home page for a video introduction.

Are You A Real Man?

I’m glad you asked.

I have completely overhauled all my game tips newsletters. I gave them a new look, edited for clarity and typos, removed fluff, and added new moves and techniques. That may not sound like a big job but all my newsletters combined clock in at 47,000 words, only 13,000 words shy of Bang.

If you’re already subscribed you’ve probably already seen the new design. Something new is that for each edition I throw in a different quote I like.

Here’s a sampling of the emails you’ll receive if you sign up:

• How to handle flakey girls
• How to pick up girls in coffee shops
• The one thing that makes girls see you as more confident
• An easy way to isolate a girl in a bar
• When is the best time to approach a girl?
• How to pick up girls on the street
• The reason why she isn’t calling you back
• Simple move to defeat bedroom resistance

There are over 30 more editions with tips on day game, night game, approaching, venue selection, conversation tips, dating strategy, and sealing the deal. My newsletters are basically a free book on game that you get in snippets at regular intervals. I don’t share your email address with anyone and you can unsubscribe at any time. Sign up on the forum below…

If you can’t see the sign-up form above then you’re probably running some type of adblocker. Simply send a blank email to roosh-game-tips@aweber.com to sign up.

P.S. My second book is called A Dead Bat In Paraguay and is now out in paperback or eBook. Described as "honest," "fearless," and "inspiring," it's a 262 page fast-paced memoir of when I quit my job and tried to bang my way across South America. Check out its home page for a video introduction.

My Latest Big Project

Out of all 30 students, 15 got at least one number. So half of the students got to experience the initial stages of success.

One thing I haven’t talked about is how many guys banged a girl he met on the workshop. That number is three, or 10%. Two out of those three got a relationship out of it.

- 1 one of those bangs happened from a girl met in a clothing shop
- 2 of those bangs happened from girls met in the bookstore

How many guys do you know has banged a girl from meeting in either of those places? And to put things in better perspective, I was hovering over these guys taking notes with a running timer while they talked to a girl they eventually had sex with.

I think the bang rate is impressive. That means if you took my workshop, you had an immediate 10% chance of banging a girl you meet from it.

I want to have a day game book completed by the end of 2010, but before that I have to squeeze out a short book that I’m hoping will be ready by Spring. I’m trying hard to be productive but it’s impossible while traveling.

P.S. My second book is called A Dead Bat In Paraguay and is now out in paperback or eBook. Described as "honest," "fearless," and "inspiring," it's a 262 page fast-paced memoir of when I quit my job and tried to bang my way across South America. Check out its home page for a video introduction.

Sexual Results From My Day Game Workshops

I lived in Brazil most of my life, read The Game 6 months ago, and since then I have consumed lots of material about pick up. I noticed some solid improvement, both dealing with women and in my social life in general, but after reading your last post I found out that my goal is impossible to achieve.

I thought that by improving my game, I would be able to overcome the insane level of bitchiness of hot Brazilian girls on expensive clubs, which, as you said on your post, are the hottest here. But your post made me believe that pick up knowledge available does not have hot/rich Brazilian girls in mind. I know from personal experience (from before and after reading any material) that the same principles apply, but I am no longer confident that what is available is enough for Brazilian expensive clubs.

[In the United States], I was amazed by how approachable American girls were, and in average they were hotter too! I could at least get a phone number from a reasonably good looking girl every night. I felt like fishing in barrel, compared to my life in Brazil.

Anyway, I think I will officially retire from my pick up studies. I make very good living, and have good social skills. I am not very good looking (a 6 or 7 I’d say), but I have been on a long term relationship with a solid 9-10. She’s a very nice girl, I just thought that it was bad timing, and that I had more of life to experience. I thought that studying pick up would have made a more mature man, helping dealing with anxiety, and evolve my social skills as a whole. I thought to myself: “when I am confident enough so that I *feel* am able to pick up any girl I want — yes, those on those clubs –, I will have experienced my feelings and will be mature enough to settle down”. Anyway, I no longer believe that that goal is achievable.

My reply:

So you’ve been studying game for six months, have not banged a silly hot Brazilian girl, and deem it “impossible” even after you’ve seen improvements? Do you know how ridiculous this sounds? You’re writing this to a man who went to South America and was basically dying slowly but still went out there and chased hard until he [DBIP spoiler]. I’m sorry I can’t respect this email at all because it screams quitter. If I was also a quitter then we can whine together about how hard life is and how hard it is to bang pretty girls but no, because I don’t give up.

Your solution is to man up, stop whining, and go do 200 approaches in the three months.

A noteworthy part of his email:

I thought that studying pick up would have made a more mature man

In six months he expected to be a completely new man! Come on people: real, lasting change takes time. You can go out there with new lines or techniques and get laid in the next month, but changing who you are is a gradual process that you won’t notice until way into the future when you accomplish some difficult task or goal using some seemingly inconsequential thing you learned from a prior experience. It won’t be obvious.

I was reading the blog of this girl who traveled through South America. The post from when she returned home said something along the lines of, “I’m so disappointed that I’m back and feel like exactly the same person.” Unfortunately people want to go out and do this big experience and feel an immediate payoff to justify it, a result of the Western culture sickness where everything is cost-benefit analyzed to death. But of course that’s not how life works. The cumulation of many experiences will gradually change you, but nothing where you can draw a line from point A to B and say, “Yes climbing the Inca Trail has helped me… get this raise at work!”

Lastly, you can’t go wrong if you do things you enjoy that keep you engaged in life. I sought out the game because it’s what I wanted, not because I saw a bestselling book at Barnes & Noble that was targeted to my age and gender. If your heart isn’t into something and you merely follow popular trends, you’ll quit before accomplishing anything meaningful.

P.S. My second book is called A Dead Bat In Paraguay and is now out in paperback or eBook. Described as "honest," "fearless," and "inspiring," it's a 262 page fast-paced memoir of when I quit my job and tried to bang my way across South America. Check out its home page for a video introduction.

Giving Up On The Game After Six Months

If I approach a cute new girl and get her number, say in a tough day-time approach, I am pleased and pat myself on the back, thinking of my little success for the next couple hours. If I then fuck her, I’m in positive spirits for at least a day. If a new girl I thought was a lock flakes on me at some point in the seduction I get annoyed and experience a bad or neutral mood for hours. If I don’t get the bang when I’ve done everything in my power to do so, I’m frustrated.

It’s happened where a girl didn’t reply to my phone call, and I scratch my hand wondering why, only for her to finally respond and my mood to immediately lift. I want to get away from this completely, of reacting emotionally to responses a woman gives me, but I know that’s asking myself to remove a part that makes me human. While I worry less about outcomes with specific women than the average man, there is obviously a part of me that cares, mostly for my own success and sense of accomplishment.

Garden-variety apathy is a common attribute of those men who rack up lots of bangs, but I want complete robot-like apathy when it comes to the initial stages of pick-up because I know that emotions such as the ones I experience only hinder my maximum potential. The time I’m feeling down will lead to missed opportunities because I won’t be “in the mood.” The times I’m feeling up does the same because of the “I just got laid—I don’t need to try” mindset, also called Golden Cock Syndrome.

There is a negative to robot-like apathy, because to not care is to lack desire. Unfortunately at zero desire you’ll be prevented from playing the game at all and attemping anything, as you can reason that women are not needed for your existence in the first place. This is a tough point to reconcile, and it’s entirely possible that my current mindset, of caring a little, is actually most optimal.

P.S. My second book is called A Dead Bat In Paraguay and is now out in paperback or eBook. Described as "honest," "fearless," and "inspiring," it's a 262 page fast-paced memoir of when I quit my job and tried to bang my way across South America. Check out its home page for a video introduction.

Thoughts On The Balance Beween Caring For A Girl and Being Completely Apathetic

Easy solution: Do not step inside a club that has more than a $5 US cover. I’m rolling into clubs with $20 covers and wondering why I’m having challenging nights, but then I go into a casual bar and do great off the bat. The more expensive the South American club, the worser I do. If you balk at the cover charge then imagine what the average Brazilian or Colombian or whomever thinks about it. The only problem is that it’s tough finding those fun local bars, as guidebooks and internet sites usually spit out the expensive venues.

I think lower middle class bars and clubs are a good compromise between quality and easiness. It’s true those rich clubs have the hottest girls, but if you’re just passing by the city odds are that won’t be the source of a bang, especially without some sort of introduction or “in” to get the ball rolling. The girls there don’t give a shit you’re a gringo. Of course they’re always exceptions, but the one place your exotic gringo status is neutralized is a place where rich assholes hang out at. If the ratio of drunk guys wielding champagne bottles to hot girls exceeds 0.5, buckle down for a long night. And if you see someone with an iPhone, leave immediately.

Postscript: A Brazilian has informed me that a new iPhone costs around $1,200 in Brazil, based on today’s exchange rate.

P.S. My second book is called A Dead Bat In Paraguay and is now out in paperback or eBook. Described as "honest," "fearless," and "inspiring," it's a 262 page fast-paced memoir of when I quit my job and tried to bang my way across South America. Check out its home page for a video introduction.

Don’t Go To South American Clubs With High Cover Charges

My parents divorced when I was 8, and for the next twelve years or so I visited my dad two nights a week. So when I got out of college, I was only 30% man. With much time, determination, and sex with different women, I have been able to become 99% man (yeah, I like myself a good snuggle from time to time), but it would have been a hell of a lot easier if I had a constant male influence in my life. Unfortunately many guys have been raised by their fathers but they might as well be fatherless—their dads didn’t teach them shit, sometimes because they didn’t quite know how to be a man themselves. This has happened because Western society has not demanded that men act like men.

I got to see a sad example of single motherdom in Pipa, Brazil, a small beach town in the Northern coast. There was an Italian mother and her 8-year-old boy traveling with the grandmother and aunt. Three women, zero men. They put a long rainbow-colored tassel in his almost shoulder-length hair and a piece of woven jewelry around his tiny ankle. They indulged his every whine without teaching him things like sports, play fighting, and smashing objects. He copied their feminine ways of speaking and the poolside sight of my hairy body nearly scared him to death—he literally trembled with fear like someone had dropped him into the lion sanctuary at the zoo. I’m absolutely certain this adorable little boy will be a huge fag when he gets older. Now how is that not child abuse?

While there’s nothing wrong with being gay (except the doing it in each other’s butts part), you must accept that homosexuality is on the deviant side of nature. The Italian mother was actually married when she had the future sausage jockey, but many Western women who have failed in love will be having kids using sperm donors. These self-absorbed women do not care that they are destroying a human life as long as they can attempt to relieve the immense emptiness in their lives, caused by chasing that cheddar in the corporate office instead of pleasing a real man who could fertilize her BPA-tainted eggs with a child. Thanks to their actions, society will be filled with a billion gays who wear tassels in their hair. And guys like myself will have the burden of having a lot of sex with the remaining women who are still wired to want a man who treats them like shit.

I guess this is all working out quite well for me then.

P.S. My second book is called A Dead Bat In Paraguay and is now out in paperback or eBook. Described as "honest," "fearless," and "inspiring," it's a 262 page fast-paced memoir of when I quit my job and tried to bang my way across South America. Check out its home page for a video introduction.

Single Women Who Purposefully Have Children Are Commiting Crimes Against Humanity

You talk about how hard Argentina is but for me it was the biggest pick-up cakewalk I have ever had. The only one I have ever had. The women chased me aggressively.

The reason? Because he “groomed” himself. Yes, dude banged Argentine models because he shaved and put on a nice t-shirt. I called the troll out to lay out his strategy, a story, pictures, or anything that gives his boast some credibility, but of course “he” hasn’t posted since. I use quotes because lately I’m noticing women trolling as men on my blog and others. “The women chased my aggressively” sounds like something a girl would say. (Here’s another example of a girl trolling as a guy and my reasoning why).

There were also some other misguided comments about “looking good.” All things being equal, looking sharper may help you get laid depending on the type of girl you’re going for, but telling a guy to cut his hair in order to bang Argentine girls left and right tells me either you don’t have game or haven’t been to Argentina. In fact for some type of girls, looking sharp will hurt you (hipsters, artsy chicks, midgets, etc.)

Finally an Argentine guy rolls by and tells everyone to sit down and shut up. Here’s some required reading for anyone going to Argentina:

About middle class Argentine girls from an Argentine guy:

1. Our girls drink very little.

2. Our guys are really forward, confident and insistent. A-hole game or direct game will not set you apart, you will just blend in. Last minute resistance is actually Last few days resistance and we are trained to deal with that.

The girls need to rationalize a story for you. You want to be: the guy I met at yoga classes, or the guy who works with my friend, the guy who’s friends with X’s boyfriend or the guy who plays rugby at the club where I play field hockey. Being the random guy I met at a bar is usually not enough. If you are a foreigner, you need a story that will make you be around for a longer period of time (I’m leaving tomorrow will usually backfire and usually so will I’m leaving next week). Girls will make out with guy they met at a bar, but this guy needs to create his story to take it further.

Since most guys will lie, deceive and twist facts when talking to women (btw, “having game” is translated as “tener parla”), girls need to screen the guys.

In terms of tactics:

1. Roll in a group for optimum results. If it is a beach town in the summer, you want to be with the guys who have the motorcycles, jetskis, quads or who are into kite-surfing or beach volleyball. You also want to host house parties or be regulars at a club as part of a big mixed group.

2. The girl you may get will have seen you before. Your groups will join at one point, and that will provide the setting for her to lower her defenses. Because of this tactic, you need to have different groups of girls around, with a few potential targets in each group for each guy.

3. Pickups take time, same night action is rare. As an example, if I’m traveling to Argentina for only a week, I know I won’t be getting much action. The 3-date structure is quite prevalent: you meet a girl at your friend’s birthday party (on a Saturday) and get her phone. You take her out for drinks or dinner the following Wednesday and make out. You catch up with her on Saturday as part of a mixed group. You pick her up and drive her each time so you’ll have the logistical upper hand. Come Saturday, she should put out. But all this relies on me meeting the girl on my first couple of days in town.

Conclusion: the rules of game apply in Argentina, but pickups take much longer (days vs hours). To have multiple girls, you need to be creating your story with multiple girls along time. If you give up on each pickup the same day, your numbers will suffer. You need a big backlog of potential girls to keep your numbers up. A successful crew will have different groups of girls around them. They may throw a party and have them all around (along with other guy crews) or will juggle the groups for smaller outings. The girls will also have different crews to hang out. To differentiate yourself, you need to be part of the most interesting crew. If you don’t have a crew, you need to be a regular at a specific club or bar. Meet a few girls one day, maybe make out with one and have follow up dates or just meet them again next time they go to that club. The 2nd time around, you are no longer a stranger.

Everything he says 100% confirms what I know about Argentine girls. As for the guys who say that Argentine girls are easy to pick up, ask them two questions:

1. How many did you bang?
2. Pics?

You’ll find they either got lucky with one girl or banged a couple that you personally wouldn’t. Not every Argentine girl is beautiful. Believe me that if a gringo banged a hot Argentine girl he has a dozen pictures of her on his computer.

P.S. My second book is called A Dead Bat In Paraguay and is now out in paperback or eBook. Described as "honest," "fearless," and "inspiring," it's a 262 page fast-paced memoir of when I quit my job and tried to bang my way across South America. Check out its home page for a video introduction.

How To Pick Up Argentine Girls (From An Argentine Guy)

Girls from Colombia (or Argentina or Brazil—take your pick) never wear flip flops to the bar unless they’re on a beach because they have respect for themselves, whether or not they’re on the hunt for a guy. Your relationship status should not be a determinant to how you present yourself to the world. In other words if you look like shit on purpose then you are shit.

I’ve met quite a few gringo guys in Colombia who came more or less for sexual adventures. Each one has put in more effort into their apperance than the average gringa. They bring button-down shirts, nice shoes that you can’t run in, and in some cases tasteful jewelry accessories. Hell even I travel with two button-down shirts.

If the men are putting in more effort than than the women in looking good, you know the Western culture has really done a fucked-up number on society. The sad part is that even with the gringas looking like they just walked out of a handicraft market, there are still a long line of guys that hit on them. This ensures that nothing will change. Female laziness combined with male desperation will doom us all.

P.S. My second book is called A Dead Bat In Paraguay and is now out in paperback or eBook. Described as "honest," "fearless," and "inspiring," it's a 262 page fast-paced memoir of when I quit my job and tried to bang my way across South America. Check out its home page for a video introduction.

Travel Is No Excuse To Look Like Shit

The morning came and the camera showed them all piled up in a van, ready to go. Then the girl who the night before volunteered to wake everyone up realized that someone was missing. She paused for half a second, said “Ah well” and jumped in the van, even though the missing girl offered her crucial wardrobe help before. The backstabber said, “Even though she helped me earlier, she needs to take responsibility. I’m not her mom.”

Let’s assume this was real and not staged, for we all know that women are capable of such an act.

Now imagine if guys operated like that. “Hey bro I know you had a job interview today and I promised to wake you up but I’m not your dad so whatever.” Our culture pushes women as the more caring and sensitive of the human genders but not counting mass killings they do the evilest shit known to man, causing far more emotional damage than men ever could. The only way I know of seriously hurting a girl is by dumping her and fucking her mom raw dog, but women are more far more imaginative when it comes to backstabbery and all-around general wickedness.

But that’s not the point of this post. The point is the rationalization offered by the backstabber. Consider this old quote: “Humans are not rational beings, they’re rationalizing beings.”

Rationalization deflects blame when you make a decision, not only preventing you from learning from your mistakes but also turning you into a delusional person. You drift away from living in reality where you can see things as they really are to make correct decisions in the future. It’s a slope where not owning up to bad decisions causes future bad decisions. You don’t learn, and you don’t grow.

I’m always evaluating the decisions I’ve made in life, and there are many that I look back and think, “Hah, I really fucked up there.” I think about having made the correct choice and can easily imagine how the outcome would have worked out better for me. I can’t change the past and I’m not going to cry about it, but the thing about life it that it presents you with similar decicions and choices that while different, can be better approached with prior lessons learned. When you stop rationalizating, and admit you are often wrong, you make better decisions in the future that will make your life easier and hopefully more fulfilling.

The model in the opening example will continue to fuck over people, always finding some retarded rationalization, all while creating a pile of enemies that I guarantee you will get her back hard in the future. It’s a sort of karma that really isn’t karma, that exists in the physical world and easily controllable when you approach your past actions without ego or emotion. In the end when you rationalize, you only cheat yourself.

P.S. My second book is called A Dead Bat In Paraguay and is now out in paperback or eBook. Described as "honest," "fearless," and "inspiring," it's a 262 page fast-paced memoir of when I quit my job and tried to bang my way across South America. Check out its home page for a video introduction.

Rationalizing Today’s Mistakes Will Cause Tomorrow’s Problems

Hey I’m Ed I would like to share a little story of how I got out of the just friends zone. I met this chick at a pool hall. Let’s just say her name is Meg. It turned out she was the sister of my brother’s girlfriend. So it was easy to get a conversation going. The problem was Meg’s boy friend owned the pool hall. I figured I would leaf it alone, but as they say forbidden fruit taste sweeter. I ended up going to her house and we talked all night. I did the gay thing. But I brushed her hair and rubbed her back even baked cookies I got myself as far into the friend zone as I could get.

So then I disappeared for three months, left town went to Washington dc had fun there. In the meantime back home my brother told the sisters that I got into a crazy car crash and died. Note this was not my idea. Well after three months in dc I return home. The sisters came to my house to pickup my brother, that’s when he told me that the girls think I’m dead. After a WTF moment I figured I would use this to my advantage. I had a little fun walking out of the woods as a ghost. They where so glad to see that I was alive, that in less than a week I slept with both the sisters and even the mother.

I’ve instructed my surrogates back home to inform everyone of my untimely yet thrilling death in a jet ski accident. This may be the biggest technological advance I’ve seen in game since the use of glow sticks in trance clubs.

P.S. My second book is called A Dead Bat In Paraguay and is now out in paperback or eBook. Described as "honest," "fearless," and "inspiring," it's a 262 page fast-paced memoir of when I quit my job and tried to bang my way across South America. Check out its home page for a video introduction.

The Ghost Technique

The initial response you get from a girl is partly (some will say mostly) dependent on your looks. If you are a great-looking guy then you will get a more positive, warm response than guys who aren’t as good looking. It’s the nature of the game that better looking guys don’t have to work as hard.

Say you’re at a bar and standing with your good-looking wingman. Girls constantly check out the scene and will discreetly notice both you and your friend. If you approach a group, they will be slightly warmer to you because they know that your hot friend will eventually join the conversation. His attractiveness “rubs off” on you to give you better responses. If you’re wingman is unsightly they may respond more tepidly in the hopes that you don’t bring him over.

The rule that all wingmen should have is that the guy who does the approach has dibs on the hottest girl in the group. If you do the approach and your studly friend comes to join, you still get a chance at the hot one. Assuming your game is tight there’s a good chance you’ll still get her. I’ve pulled the hotter girl in a group many times when I was hanging out with a better-looking friend. I mention this because if you view your wingman as potential competition then you’re limiting not only your results but how hard you improve your own game.

P.S. My second book is called A Dead Bat In Paraguay and is now out in paperback or eBook. Described as "honest," "fearless," and "inspiring," it's a 262 page fast-paced memoir of when I quit my job and tried to bang my way across South America. Check out its home page for a video introduction.

How Important Is The Attractiveness Of Your Wingman?

The second reason I’m a fan of rejection is because it maximizes your results. The most uncomfortable rejection I can think of is the head-turn when you go in for a kiss. This usually leads to a very awkward moment, more so than when a girl blows you off during an approach. But now I believe the head-turn isn’t a bad rejection because it means you are not wasting kisses. If you never got rejected trying to kiss a girl, it means there are several girls you could have kissed but didn’t, only because you didn’t try. Rejection tells you that you are pushing to get all that you can. A man who doesn’t get rejected is one that is not reaching his true potential.

In 2002 I was introduced to this hot-as-balls girl from California, a “part-time model” who visited D.C. for only a couple weeks. I remember at the time I had a leather-bound journal which contained random drawings I made, some of them not half bad. I often carried it around with me to bars as a prop to pickup women. It was a good conversational piece for a guy who at the time didn’t have a lot to talk about besides Starcraft and microbiology.

The California girl was digging me and in the club we sat on a couch talking and touching. I was a little giddy that this game business was “working” on her (I was using borrowed routines from “Mystery’s Lounge,” long since closed) and decided to try out a line that some guy there said is gold when it comes to getting the kiss.

At the height of our sexual tension, instead of just going for it like I would today with the help of proximity cues, I said, “I want to whisper something to your lips.” She laughed hard in my face and didn’t stop for at least a full minute. I was bummed to say the least.

She stuck around though and we flirted some more, but I didn’t get the kiss.

Two days later the phone rings, and it’s her! She was going back to the California the next day and invited me to her aunt’s house somewhere in bumfuck Virginia. I sprayed on some Drakkar Noir, put on my going-out jeans, and headed over to her house, getting lost along the way and having to consult some maps in a 7-11.

I made it to her house and got to meet her aunt, who was a nice woman, and the girl and I watched some TV and talked. She had a cold though and didn’t want to grab a drink, but before she left I decided that I was going to try again anyway, since I didn’t have anything to lose. At the door of the house I went for the kiss, and she rejected me again. She gave me a hug though and we kept in touch for a couple months until things faded away.

At the time I didn’t know when a girl was “ready” to be kissed, so I just tried every single time as long as the girl didn’t mind my company. That year every girl who wanted to kiss me got kissed by me because I tried on all of them. I didn’t waste any kisses because I erased all preconceptions about when a girl wanted me to kiss her or not.

But now I’m experienced and what not and know when a girl is ready, so I don’t bother when a girl doesn’t want it, right?

Wrong!

Even when I know from vast personal experience that the girl doesn’t want to kiss me, I try anyway, especially on the first date. I know that by the end of the first date if I don’t get a kiss, I probably won’t bang her, so I go for it all the time. Sometimes I go in thinking, “Oh boy this isn’t going to work,” and sure enough it doesn’t. But I’m fine with that and because every girl who wants to get kissed by me will get kissed.

My kissing potential is at 100%, and who knows how many additional girls I’ve banged because I pushed when I wouldn’t otherwise from reading the “signs.” I’m pretty good at knowing the signs but I ignore them, or else I’d be playing it safe and cautious, something a man with burning desire rarely does. Get rejected as much as you can, in approaches and during closes, to achieve the most of what your current skill level can give you. If I’m not getting rejected, I know there’s girls I could be messing around with but am not. Plus I’m always surprised at girls I got intimate with that I thought wouldn’t be down for anything.

In Bang I talk more about getting over shyness and fear when it comes to doing approaches before sharing openers I recommend you use. Here’s an excerpt from an in-depth review of Bang in The Spearhead (by Ferdinand Bardamu’s ):

As a general rule, 90 to 95 percent of the pickup artist literature available today is garbage. Most of these clowns are snake oil salesmen hocking overpriced e-books and DVD box sets containing info you can just as easily find online for free. There are, however, a select few books on game that are worth buying, and Bang, Roosh’s entry into this expanding field, is one of them. If The Mystery Method is the Bible of seduction literature, Bang is the Paradise Lost, and is a title that anyone interested in improving their success with women should buy, post-haste.

…

Merely from the standpoint of diction, Roosh’s book is miles ahead of its competitors. Anyone acquainted with the seduction community knows that it’s a swirling cauldron of nerdiness and weirdness, with its own vocabulary of “HB10s,” “IOIs”, and “neg hits.” Hell, the obnoxiously pretentious term “pickup artist” was invented so these geeks could pretend to set themselves apart from the rest of us grinders. In contrast, Roosh writes like a normal human being instead of a social retard. You won’t have to worry about coming across an undefined three-letter acronym every other page, necessitating a trip to the glossary and taking you out of the moment. He even refers to men who sleep with a lot of girls by the normal term: “player.” Solely in this regard, Bang is a much better read than almost all of the seduction literature on the market.

But if style is queen, then content is king, and Bang more then delivers in this regard. Roosh’s major innovation is the use of unscripted material in his game alongside standard canned material. For example, he introduces the concept of the “environmental opener,” which is a way of opening a girl with a line based on what’s happening in the surrounding environment. Additionally, he also writes on “conversational threads” as a way to hold a conversation with a girl that is both natural and holds her interest. The book is also rich with examples that allow you to contextualize the lessons. Given that scripted lines eventually become played out as dudes use them on chicks over and over, the ability to incorporate unscripted material into your game is a necessity if you want to stay on the circuit. If you’re having trouble in this department, you’d do well to pick up Bang for that reason alone.

Click here to learn more about ordering your copy of Bang.

P.S. My second book is called A Dead Bat In Paraguay and is now out in paperback or eBook. Described as "honest," "fearless," and "inspiring," it's a 262 page fast-paced memoir of when I quit my job and tried to bang my way across South America. Check out its home page for a video introduction.

You Can Only Hit Your True Potential By Getting Rejected

Cockblocking is a good example. There are guys who don’t do anything when they get disrespected by the rude girlfriends, only ensuring that the behavior continues. Because of how I’ve handled these situations, I’m confident that I’ve stopped many cockblocks for guys in D.C. who I don’t even know.

Along this theme I want to commend Joe Francis, the owner of Girls Gone Wild, for teaching a lesson that has changed the life of a girl who made a grave mistake. If you aren’t already familiar with Joe Francis he’s known for being a dick. Check out this article from a couple years back.

Francis told the cameraman to leave and pushed her back on the bed, undid his jeans and climbed on top of her. “I told him it hurt, and he kept doing it. And I keep telling him it hurts. I said, ‘No’ twice in the beginning, and during I started saying, ‘Oh, my god, it hurts.’ I kept telling him it hurt, but he kept going, and he said he was sorry but kissed me so I wouldn’t keep talking.”

Rape or just proper bedroom technique? Scientific surveys says that 90% of rape accusations are fake, used by women to get attention or to annul slutty behavior. You should be even more skeptical of rape claims against a notorious celebrity.

Actually has a male celebrity ever been successfully charged with rape? With fame-obsessed women throwing their vaginas on them the last thing they need to do is coerce themselves on a groupie. For example if I ever get accused of rape then you know it’s bullshit.

Alright back to the lesson. Joe Francis was at a club recently talking to a random girl. That girl’s friend was model Jayde Nicole, who for whatever reason didn’t like what Joe said or did. Later while he was walking through the club alone, Jayde poured a shot on Joe’s shoulder. He then turned around, grabbed a fistful of her hair, and pulled as hard as he could, dragging her on the floor. Click here to watch the video of this incident.

And here’s a picture of the model:

Let’s do a little blow-by-blow:

0:07: Joe is walking through the club. Jayde sees him and outstretches her arm to get ready for the pour.

0:11: The shot is dumped on Joe’s shoulder.

0:13: Stunned, Joe looks around to see who grievously insulted him while Jayde retreats back to the bar trying to play off her involvement.

0:15: With a face full of fury, Joe grabs Jayde’s hair and pulls with all his might.

0:19: Joe gets jumped by men trying to defend the attacker’s honor.

0:30: Jayde stands stunned by the bar and needs to be consoled by friends. I have a feeling she didn’t expect his reaction.

1:02: Jayde is boo-hoo-hooing uncontrollably at the bar. Her friends are stroking her now-mangled coif.

Here’s what I think of the situation:

Bitch deserved it..

You can argue whether or not the punishment fit the crime, but as he did no permanent damage to her I think his response was more reasonable than not. It’s not like he pulled a Mark Wahlberg and blinded a man in an unprovoked racist attack.

If you don’t agree then I’m afraid you’re still drinking the feminist koolaid that teaches men that it’s always “wrong to hit a women.” Well it’s not always wrong to hit a woman. As a man who’s been pushed to the edge, I’m stunned at how deft women are at inciting violence, even when you’re warned them repeatedly to simmer down. I believe some women want you to hit them because they want to see you care, especially if you have an aloof, hard-to-read nature.

Do think Jayde would have attacked a man like that in a Middle Eastern country? Hell no because she knows she’d be murdered. I’m definitely not saying that’s what we need, but our culture has taught women that they can disrespect men without repercussion, and has taught men to accept that disrespect like little punks. Well there are men who haven’t bought that view and are making the world a better place by teaching women like Jayde that you can’t go around attacking men. I guarantee you she will never pour a shot on a man again in her life.

P.S. My second book is called A Dead Bat In Paraguay and is now out in paperback or eBook. Described as "honest," "fearless," and "inspiring," it's a 262 page fast-paced memoir of when I quit my job and tried to bang my way across South America. Check out its home page for a video introduction.

Idiot Model Gets Taught An Important Lesson

You don’t know how to share interesting experiences that not only make her wish she was there with you but also make her want to be with you in future stories as well.

2. You’re too needy.

You contact a girl much more than she contacts you. You freak out if she doesn’t call back right away. You worry when there is nothing to worry about.

3. You don’t know how to build attraction.

You don’t know what a girl’s buttons are. You don’t know how to talk to her in a way that makes her more interested in you as time goes on.

4. You haven’t optimized your look.

Have you taken the time with different hair and beard configurations, or do you still look the same as five years ago, wearing that same shirt with the stain on the sleeve? You don’t need model good-looks to have sex with pretty girls.

5. You don’t drink.

Alcohol is a magical drug that makes getting laid significantly easier, and I’m not talking about getting girls drunk. Just one drink increases the chance you will get laid about 20%. Three drinks in her system is all you need.

6. You don’t work out.

You’re a fright to look at naked. You don’t have to be a meathead, but if you feel good about your body then you’ll feel good about yourself, and this comes across in a positive attitude with girls you talk to.

7. You’re a pussy.

You don’t want to get rejected. You don’t understand that guys who get the most women also get rejected the most.

8. You don’t know how to make a girl laugh.

I like to think that a childhood of watching Simpsons and Seinfeld is all you need to be funny, but there are humor how-to books you can learn from as well.

9. You have an extreme deformity that hopefully can be fixed with either hard work (obesity) or surgery (gigantic nose).

Modern science has come a long way.

10. You don’t have confidence.

You don’t like the man you see in the mirror. You don’t believe that you were meant to sleep with lots of girls. You’ve given up and sloth around playing video games or poker, praying and hoping that maybe one day you’ll get lucky instead of doing the work necessary to be an interesting, confident man that girls like.

11. You limit your prospect pool by only going after girls at work or in your meager social circle.

You think the only way to get a girl is to have some sort of prior introduction. You’ve never tried walking up to her cold in a bar, coffee shop, or bookstore.

12. You believe you need to be friends with a girl first.

You think that a girl has to see you as a buddy before she can see you as a lover. Unfortunately there is no animal lust in friendship. By being friends first, you almost guarantee that that’s all you’ll ever be.

13. You do dinner dates.

They greatly decrease your chances of getting action. Not only does all that food impede the absorption of the wine (see number five), but you’re sitting far away from her, unable to touch. Do drink dates instead where you can sit right next to her as that alcohol takes hold.

14. You’re not persistent.

You give up way too easily. You don’t understand that you may need to get rejected a few dozen times before you come across a girl that likes you. Maybe more. Second to not even trying, giving up too early is the most common mistake guys make.

15. Your breath reeks.

It doesn’t matter how fun or good-looking you are, but if your breath smells then you’re not getting anything.

16. You have limited life experiences.

It’s hard to hold a conversation with a women if all you know about is sports. You can fake it a bit if you’re a voracious reader, but the best way to talk about interesting things is to do interesting things. Chances are that doesn’t involve a computer or television.

17. You’re cheap.

You need to pay to play. This means keeping up a presentable appearance and going to places where the women are. Even the cheapest drinks at happy hour bars are going to cost you money, and many of those dates will not result in sex. Unless you’re in Thailand paying $10 a bang you’re going to have to get used to the idea that it costs money to get laid. Just don’t confuse this with showing off your money to women. If you’re interesting and make a girl laugh, she won’t care you’re poor in order to have sex with you, though she may not see you as long-term potential.

18. You’re not cool.

Do other people not want to hang out with you? Do they dislike your company? Do people make fun of you behind your back? Do you have trouble maintaining friendships? Do you look or dress like an idiot? While the definition of being cool depends on where you live, it does involve a degree of fitting into society, as the girls you will be trying to bang live in said society as well. If you’re going to be uncool, then you will have to hang in places where uncool girls are and try to get with them (e.g. goth bar).

If you liked this post then check out 7 Things You Can Do To Improve His Game.

P.S. My second book is called A Dead Bat In Paraguay and is now out in paperback or eBook. Described as "honest," "fearless," and "inspiring," it's a 262 page fast-paced memoir of when I quit my job and tried to bang my way across South America. Check out its home page for a video introduction.

18 Reasons Why You Don’t Get Laid

I talked to 3rd graders first and was very impressed with their zombie-like state. Even though they probably didn’t care about what I was saying, they appeared to be paying close attention. They stared at the front of the class while remaining completely still. They obediently raised their hands when I asked for participation, and no one spoke unless I called on them. They read questions from a worksheet given out by the teacher.

The environment was robbing them of creativity and spontaneous excitement. Whenever a kid got distracted and started doodling or going through things in his desk, the teacher interrupted me to snap at him. This happened even more in the 1st grade class because they were not fully “trained.” I felt bad for them. They were being ordered around like soldiers.

I have overcome the brainwashing of public schooling and my mom’s constant nagging to do what I’m doing today, which if you’re reading this on Sunday afternoon is riding an eight-hour bus.

In the next post I share my tips for making it through a day at the office.

Put your back to your cubicle entrance and practice falling asleep with one hand on the keyboard and the other on the mouse. (Make sure you have a work-related document open on the screen.) This is easy to do if you have a chair that has a high back. There are two things to watch out for: (1) Your screensaver may activate while you nap, and (2) Your hand may smash some keys, making people who pass by you wonder why you have a screen full of G’s. When someone knocks on the frame of your cubicle entrance, waking you up, they will confuse your tired haze with deep and creative thought.

I respect people who are doing what they can to make a living, but that office shit was unbearable to me.

P.S. My second book is called A Dead Bat In Paraguay and is now out in paperback or eBook. Described as "honest," "fearless," and "inspiring," it's a 262 page fast-paced memoir of when I quit my job and tried to bang my way across South America. Check out its home page for a video introduction.

Flashback: Working For The Man

Have you ever been into a fight as an adult?

Otherwise you should reconsider.

The popularity of tattoos is at the point where you see a lot of skinny, frail men getting them. Before I came to Colombia I remember witnessing the jarring sight of an emaciated man wearing a horizontal striped shirt with a rainbow colored sleeve tat (his sleeves were rolled up). My suspicion is that men like him are getting tats to appear tough.

“I’m not going to work on building my confidence, go to the gym, or even approach girls. I’m just going to get this here outrageous tat and graduate to being a bad ass right away! Where my groupies at!”

The only man I know who is qualified to have a tattoo is Virgle Kent, the most violent, ill-tempered man I know. Do you have a friend who considers getting a beer bottle smashed on his head the warm-up to a fight? Well I do (true story). He breaks heads up and down 18th Street with frightening regularity and that’s why he’s my buddy.

Today’s tattoo trend is reducing the value of his tattoos. The only way to rectify the problem is if guys like VK grab tatooed betas by the collar and demand they laser it off. He can pull a Fight Club and take their drivers license and say he’ll visit soon to check on them. Or he can use a piece of glass from the street to carve up their tat right then and there, leaving the wannabe tough guy in a pool of his own tears and blood.

In twenty years, when even your mom has a tattoo, I’m afraid it will not convey the bad ass qualities as before (for proof take a look at what happened to the mohawk). Instead, only those who know how to cave in faces will be seen as cool.

P.S. My second book is called A Dead Bat In Paraguay and is now out in paperback or eBook. Described as "honest," "fearless," and "inspiring," it's a 262 page fast-paced memoir of when I quit my job and tried to bang my way across South America. Check out its home page for a video introduction.

There Should Be A Requirement For Getting Tattoos