The Average Guy cares less about the proper modes of social behavior than he should a friend’s chronic rectal itch. Etiquette’s not funny. Your friend’s rectal itch is hilarious. Laughing at your buddy talking to some girl in a bar shifting his weight to Lady Gaga just to scratch his ass is as funny as watching Gaga fall down a flight of stairs. But social etiquette happens to everyone – either you adhere to it and no one notices, or you don’t and people sneer. For anyone who sneers in my direction I didn’t get around to punching, you should know I left the party early and ran my junk over every car door handle in the parking lot. So while picking your nose on the way home, you stuck my dick up your nasal passage … and you don’t know where it’s been.
But should an Average Guy care about etiquette? Let’s consider the following: 1) Does it really matter if somebody eats peas with a dinner fork or dessert fork? 2) Should you tuck the napkin in your shirt, or spread it on your leg? 3) Is it wrong to have sex with your boss’s daughter who only wants to hurt daddy, but she’s really, really hot? The answers are 1) no. Peas are good for you. Eat them with your fists, 2) yes to both uses of the napkin and eating during a lap dance. Anything that keeps ketchup off your prized AC/DC concert T-shirt is acceptable, and 3) if you say ‘yes,’ I will set fire to your house.
Should an Average Guy care about the kind of dinner/dining/dancing etiquette you see on TV? Fuck no. That type of etiquette is for people who care what other people think of them. Average Guys don’t give a shit about what anyone thinks. However, there are social, mainly unspoken, unwritten until now Average Guy rules we should all follow. These are the Average Guy Rules of Etiquette:
Bathroom Etiquette
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| Don't pee next to this man. |
Urinals: Don’t look at the guy next to you. Don’t even turn your head slightly to see if he’s the kind of guy who might bash you in the head and take your wallet. He’ll think you’re looking at his dick. I once made the mistake of glancing at the guy at the urinal next to me and it was NFL Hall of Fame offensive lineman Dan Dierdorf. It doesn’t matter that the dude was almost 60; he could kick my ass. Seriously, don’t look.
Don’t talk: You’re in a stall of a public bathroom; pants at your ankles, the hair on your legs standing up, and you’re dropping a load in a rhythm that sounds like a Bobby McFerrin song. Some guy comes in and squats in the stall next to you. Uncomfortable, but tolerable. Then he. starts. talking. to. you. What the hell? A man trying to talk to you in a bathroom shitter while you’re sitting over a semi-liquid mess teaming with tetanus is more uncomfortable than farting in church. A bathroom talker is not a man. Shut the fuck up. If my pants weren’t down I would beat you with a toilet seat.
Washing your hands: Public restrooms are filthier than Paris Hilton, and just looking at Paris Hilton makes me want to wash my eyes with rubbing alcohol. If I could hold my dump on a cross-state drive, I would. Walking into a public bathroom is a lot like descending into the world of the Morlocks. Public bathrooms are dark, moldy, have green stuff oozing down the walls, and red-eyed monsters stare at you from dark corners. Wash your hands before you go in, don’t touch anything, don’t sit on anything, don’t look at anything, then step into a Star Trek decontamination chamber on the way out – but don’t wash your hands. The problems with washing your hands in a public restroom are, 1) anyone who used the sink before you got shit on the faucet handle. Literal shit, 2) many public restrooms don’t have paper towels and who has time to stand in front of a blow dryer for five minutes when some asshole’s sitting in a stall trying to talk to you? 3) many rural convenience store bathrooms have the continuous-circle cloth towel which is good for only one thing – contracting hepatitis, and 4) how in the hell are you getting out of this sewage pit with clean hands if you have to touch the door handle? It ain’t happening. Just say the hell with it, don’t wash your hands, and fondle all the hotdogs in the rotisserie on your way out of the convenience store.
Your Buddy’s House Etiquette
Farting: If you’re at your buddy’s house, chances are other buddies are there, a ballgame’s on, various chip dips are scattered across the coffee table, and somebody’s already broken the “fuck seal.” Probably with, “Thanks for the fucking invite,” “can you believe that fucking call?” or “hey, I fucking farted.” Farting at a buddy’s house is more expected than you actually bringing your own beer. There are, however, generally accepted rules for farting: 1) don’t fart in front of women. Sure, if a woman is at a party where guys are drinking, eating, and watching sports, she might as well be at the zoo. But society tells us that when we’re around women we’re supposed to pretend we’re someone else, so just make sure you sneak out your air loaf and smile quietly to yourself as she tries to figure out which one of you bastards did it, 2) don’t fart in the bathroom – do it in the middle of the action. Sure, everyone will bitch, but inside we’re all high-fiving your rotten sphincter bomb. Surprisingly enough, at a party the bathroom’s usually the best place to get away from the smell, 3) don’t not fart, with the strange bodily movement and facial contortions associated with holding one in, people might think you’re having a stroke. If someone can’t deal with you not not farting, wait till they bend over the dip table and rip one in their face.
Your buddy’s wife: If your buddy’s wife is hot, both she and your friend should keep her the hell away from the assholes he hangs around with. It’s not that any Average Guy would ever try and make it with his buddy’s wife, but an Average Guy will stare at her boobs like they might get up and dance.
The last beer: You want it, you want it, you want it, but never, ever take the last beer. It’s more acceptable to use the last square of toilet paper in a friend’s house than it is to take his last beer. Taking the last beer out of your buddy’s fridge is equivalent to seeing his car broken down on the side of the road, pulling over, hitting him in the head with a pipe, rolling his body into a ditch and driving off. Okay, so that’s not exactly like taking your buddy’s last beer because taking his last beer is much, much worse. Hitler would take his friend’s last beer. Yeah, think about that.
First Date Etiquette
Picking up your date: The Average Guy knows as much about women as he does nuclear physics. If you’re a nuclear physicist, you know as much about women as you do plumbing/hog farming/“Jersey Shore.” The point is no one knows anything about women. Period. Once you land a date with the elusive female, they will expect you to drive to their house, unless you’re borderline creepy, then they’ll drive themselves to an agreed-on spot in a public setting and will probably wear a wire. But what is the proper way to take her from her house to the date? There are three methods determined by the woman’s social status, 1) she still lives with her mother. You’re going to have to work at it. Shower, show up early, knock on the door, bring a gift (preferably something her mother can enjoy, like candy, a TV Guide, or whatever in the hell women who live together like), wear a shirt with a collar, tell her how nice she looks, and if you masturbate before the date make sure you mop up. You’re going to drive, you’re going to pay, and you’re not going to get laid, but at least you tried, 2) she’s a professional woman who lives alone, which means she might want to drive. Fuck that. Tell her you’re not nearly drunk enough for her to drive, then talk about Hemmingway and challenge her to a drinking contest. If she says “no,” she’s probably going to call the cops. But if she says “yes,” this tight-assed powerbitch will break your pelvis. Sweet. And 3) she’s into you like Star Wars geeks are into Princess Leia’s gold bikini. You can show up wearing a T-shirt featuring a picture you having sex with German Chancellor Angela Merkel and she’ll still go out with you.
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| German Chancellor Angela Merkel. |
Getting drunk: There are women who think dates are magical events where people dance with unicorns, snort rainbows, tickle dolphins, and play UNO with swans. These are also women who think “Titanic” is the best movie James Cameron ever made – even though you know its “Terminator 2: Judgment Day” – enjoy music that makes you punch drywall, and have an annoying laugh. I offer you three words: 1) booze, 2) it, 3) up. Getting drunk with Miss Moonbeam will take this date from beat-my-head-on-the-floor to tolerable. But no matter how hot this type of woman is, they’re too fucking annoying to spend more than one date with. Note, “more than one date” and “balls to Jesus” are two different things. If you’re dating someone too classy to drink beer, she’s not for you, pal. And, realistically, she’s not for anyone.
Who should pay: You. I’m sorry, but it’s always you. Women have gone to so much effort to do bullshit like vote, own land, have equal pay, and the right to speak in public, it’s just sad they throw all this respect away when they expect you to spring for dinner.
Work Etiquette
Dealing with coworkers: No matter where you work or who you work for, the people you work with are dickheads. You might chat with them causally about their personal life, go out for lunch with them, and play cards at their house, but these people suck to you in much the same way Judas sucked to Jesus. As soon as a corner office is open, your office “friend” will turn you over to the Romans. But, unlike Jesus, you need to strike first. Get to know them. Infiltrate their world of pasty cubical dwelling trolls. Mock people you know they hate to gain their trust. Then, when you’ve learned enough about these people, fuck them like Tommy Lee all over Pamela Anderson. That corner office is yours.
Taking things out of the office fridge that aren’t yours: Have you ever watched an old-school sci-fi movie where a scientist grabbed the wrong test tube/sandwich/beaker of scotch out of the refrigerator, and the world ended? This was based on a workplace refrigerator. Taking food out of a workplace fridge is as dangerous as sharing heroine needles with hobos. Don’t do it; the food in there is probably old enough to be your father. The only exception is an unmarked bottle of coffee creamer. That’s because it’s not coffee creamer, it’s breast milk. If the one new mother in the office is hotter than deep-fried tits, drink the bottle and wear that milk mustache around the office like a war medal. HR will put something in your permanent file, but it’s worth it.
Leaving with class: You’re going to get fired. This isn’t a critique of your work ethic (even though if you’re an Average Guy you’re doing just enough to get by), it’s just a statistical probability. Everyone gets fired. The trick is to walk out of that building with your dignity and, hopefully, a shitload of office supplies. Prepare for your firing the day you take the job. Never – and I mean never – take anything personal to work except the clothes you’re wearing. You’ve seen those people you work with who have more personal pictures on their desk than your mom has in photo albums. When these losers get fired (and you’re glad they did. Pricks), some corporate thugs escort them to their desk and watch like prison guards while your now-former co-worker packs a box full of those pictures, troll dolls, novelty items and all the shit they’ve accumulated over years of not being fired. It’s pathetic. When you get fired, instead of wasting valuable time on personal items, you can fill that box with all the printer cartridges, Post-It Notes, highlighters, staples, company coffee mugs, and ink pens you’ve spent the past two years stealing. Then, as the thugs escort you out of the building, tell everyone it was you who never flushed the toilet. Good riddance, assholes. I’m going home to drink beer and play video games.
Sporting Event Etiquette
Cheering for your team: Sporting events are one of the rare instances Average Guys get a chance to high-five strangers without people thinking we have Down’s Syndrome. Naturally you’ll want to take full advantage by cheering for your team because high-fives are fucking awesome. In most cases it’s perfectly acceptable to root for your team but keep in mind you’re not a goddamned cheerleader. At no point are you allowed to encourage others to cheer. If you attempt to start “the wave” I will cut off your foot and eat it in front of you. If you’re just a casual observer, you’re not even allowed to cheer. Example: I don’t know shit about hockey, but if someone offers me free tickets I’m going to watch some Canucks try to smash each other’s teeth out, but at no time will I cheer. Just because I’ve seen the Mighty Ducks doesn’t mean I’ll yell, “Its knuckle puck time” or “Ducks fly together,” although I have to admit I might be looking for Kenan Thompson so I can get the autograph of the least funny person to ever be on Saturday Night Live.
Tailgating: Tailgating is a great time to drink beer, grill, drink beer, and eat, which are three of the Average Guy’s favorite things. Enjoy yourself in the parking lot before and after the game but at no point are you allowed to miss any part of the game to tailgate. If you want to sit around grilling and drinking have a fucking barbecue.
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| The Wine Rack. One of the greatest inventions of all time. |
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