Women are like Rubix Cubes...only there pretty much isn't a way to cheat...you know, how when you were playing the cube, when times got desperate and all else failed, you could peel the squares off and tediously place them on a matching side. Well, when it comes to women, I'm not exactly sure what you're supposed to try and peel off, unless of course, you take into account, that thick layer of bullshit they surround themselves with (note to all women: the GOOD women, and you know who you are, have sort of molted that layer off years and years ago, so I am not referencing you). "Hey, "so and so" why don't you come over, it'll be a fun night with some good food." The reply: "Oh, that sounds great. Sure, and I'll call (insert a man's name here) to see if he'd like to go, too."

I'm sorry...what the fuck? I asked YOU, not you AND your testicularly challenged cohort. I swear, certain females are going to drive me to read Sylvia Plath (whoa, nelly) and listen to nothing but Tori Amos (whoa, depression!). Maybe I should send in an app to elimiDATE or The 5th Wheel, or MAYBE I could become the next "Bachelor." Ahh, screw it...right in the ever-crusting ear!