My advice: speak softly and carry a big dick.

Men's magazines are some fucked up bullshit. Because of crap like Maxim and Stuff (the illegitimate offspring of Maxim for retards and fuck-ups), regular schlubs will actually think they have a chance to date a supermodel. From here on out, I'm reading Redbook and Woman's Day. Laugh all you want, I'm not the one who's gonna be getting denied by supermodels, I'm gonna have some kick-ass recipes for muffins, casseroles and what-not.

I bring this up because I was at Books-a-Million (that's a bookstore, Wendy. I realize that you're too fucking stupid to put 2 and 2 together and come up with a store that sells books. 'Cause books are like kryptonite to your fat, bulbous ass.) and saw one of those shitrags with tips from supermodels themselves on how to date supermodels.

Because we all know that the guys who read this blog are gonna be meeting Heidi Klum (who's married to Seal), Gisele Bundchen (who dated Leonardo DiCaprio for God knows how long), or Kate Moss' crack-addicted ass.

The first tip? "Tell the woman she's beautiful."

Why? They are a super-fuck-model. They know they're beautiful. You know why? Because at some point, they looked in a mirror and thought to themselves, "man, I'm so gorgeous. I should vogue on the catwalk." And then (if'n you believe all these fuckin' stories) they were at some place like a McDonalds or a fountain in Brazil and some random guy walked up to them and re-affirmed what they already had told themselves in a fucking mirror. So why tell them something they already know? It's not like I'm adverse to telling women they're beautiful, but if I see a supermodel at the bar, my first instinct is to draw her attention away from the pretty rich boy by doing something that nobody's ever done. Like, look into her eyes and not at her tits. Or just be my normal, funny self. Giving her the compliment of telling her that her parents did good by swimming in the deep end of the gene pool when you first meet seems like a lame come-on move.

See, this is why I hate that bullshit. What works for "normal" women should also work for supermodels, in terms of dating and treating them like a normal fucking person. I didn't read the rest of the article, because, to be honest, I didn't need too. First of all, I know my limitations as a man. I'm not ugly or anything, but I have been conditioned by the media and the supermodels themselves to know that my looks aren't high on the list of looks that women want their men to have. And that doesn't bother because I have a great personality, I'm funny, smart and have an 8.5 inch penis, and can last for as long as you need me too in the bedroom. Literally, I can go for as little as 30 minutes (Mary)* or as long as 4 hours (Linda). I don't need a 6-pack or a head full of hair when you're packing as a big a dick as I am and can fuck as well as I can.

I digress. Secondly, my limitations notwithstanding, I also that I'm never gonna meet/date a supermodel, even though I know two**. I live in East Texas, where the fuck am I gonna see a woman as hot as some of them, without paying them $20 for a private room dance at the Deja Vu Club in Shreveport?

So I propose this: instead of trying to ban Harry Potter for being entertaining, why not ban men's magazines for giving bad information? It's kind of like porn: I used to think that I was gonna have freaky, naughty, fun sexcapades with the nurse when I went to the hospital or get to bang my teacher on her desk in the ass while in college to bring my grades up. And neither happened. And I'd sue the porn industry, excepting that it's so fun to watch porn.



*Mary and I never had sex, but she told me that she doesn't do it for longer than 30 minutes

**Suhan from Myspace and I went to school together. Through her, I know Jody.