Oh No He Di'int Message Me After Just Announcing That He's Single

I recently received a Facebook message from a long lost guy friend. It was a sweet, thoughtful note that said, "I haven't seen you in a while. I'm missing that cute smile of yours!" I was excited to hear from him; I blushed at my computer screen.

Naturally, I clicked on his profile to see what he'd been up to lately. At the very top of his Facebook wall, his most recent status update announced: "Dude is now single." Hmmph. So he doesn't bother talking to me for years and then the moment he's single he starts sending me flirty messages!? Wait, I'm confused.

Was he a gentleman for waiting until he was single to reach out to me, or is he frantically writing all his random female friends in an effort to test the waters? How many other girls did he message before me? Facebook lists people alphabetically by first name, and since "L" is in the middle of the alphabet, I'm sure he's emailed at least a dozen girls before he got to my name.

I scrolled down the names: Amy, Beth, Carolyn, Danielle, Elise, Felicia...fuck you, man! Is your sweet note some kind of online booty bait? I hate the ambiguity of Facebook and I hate your (formerly) cute message. Delete!

Pro tip: If you're gonna announce your relationship status to the FB world and then start messaging potential dates immediately afterwards, please at least toss a YouTube video up on your feed so SINGLE is not the first thing we see! I'd settle for a picture of your lunch or a link to a CNN story or a boring update about your cat. Otherwise, not gonna lie, it just looks desperate. Get it together, man!

Oh No He Di'int Message Me After Just Announcing That He's Single

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Bonerkiller: Road Ragers

Why, I oughta!!!!!

After a leisurely night out, he whisks me to his car to head home for the evening. He even opens the door for me and makes sure that I'm seated safely. "This is perfect." I think. "What a gentleman!"

We pull out into the street and a taxi cab cuts us off. My dude slams on the breaks. Phew, close call. But immediately, it's like the HULK has taken over his body. He grips the steering wheel and his eyes start to bulge and twitch. I swear I can see the veins popping out of his forehead.

"Motherf%#@ing asshole!!!" he screams as he proceeds to peel out and storm down 2nd Street like a bat outta hell. He's accelerating rapidly, trying to catch up with the cabbie. 

"Stop!! What are you doing!?!" I shriek.

"That cabbie cut me off!" he snaps, with a wild look in his eyes. "Fuck him!"

Um, that's what cabbies in the city DO. Get used to it. We just flew by like five pedestrian couples who had to yank each other back on the sidewalk because they were scared of your insane driving. Honestly, I'd rather be on their date than this one. At least they are (presumably) with more level-headed citizens. I have a damn wild man on my hands now.

Just ease off the gas, buddy. No one needs to see your white-knuckle grip on a steering wheel at this stage in the game. The dress I'm wearing looks much better sans blood and I'd like to get home from this otherwise lovely date in one piece. I'm precious cargo, dammit!

He doesn't have to drive like a sleepy grandma, but a few notches below a pissed-off cage fighter would do a lot for me. 

Bonerkiller: Road Ragers

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Things In His House That Make Me Glad: His Childhood Board Game Collection

Sweeeeeeet!

Another rainy night in and flipping through the channels has lost its appeal. My eyes begin to wander until they fall to a shelf in the corner and are met with a cardboard explosion of childhood nostalgia: his board game collection. Chutes and Ladders! Museum Caper Clue! Blokus! Monopoly and Battleship! He even has a vintage Thundercats game! Hoooooooo! This is amazing. I will pass Go and I will collect $200, thankyouverymuch!

No iPod Scrabble app can come close to the feeling of playful face-to-face competition. I'm having so much fun that I don't mind setting up the game pieces on his dusty old carpet since he doesn't have a proper dining room table. I don't even care what it's like outside anymore.

All I care about is trying to hide my smile so he remains unaware that my B7 targeted missile is totally about to sink his aircraft carrier. Victory is mine! *snicker*

Things In His House That Make Me Glad: His Childhood Board Game Collection

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Surprisingly Not a Bonerkiller: Stroller Stallions

Most girls are out the door by the time "I have a ki--" comes out of a guy's mouth. He could have been trying to say "I have a kitten," but the alternative word (kid) is considered so bad that most chicks won't stick around to hear the rest of the sentence.

Why do these girls do the scaredy cat shuffle? Well, there's plenty of reasons why someone wouldn't wanna date a dude with a kid: Maybe he has a crazy ex, maybe the kid is prone to bratty temper tantrums, maybe it means that you won't get sufficient alone time with him, etc.

BUT there's also something kinda sexy about a dude with a kid, given the right situation. This guy is legally responsible for another human being's life. Some guys can barely feed and dress themselves, let alone someone else. Seeing a dude love and care for another person other than himself is hot.

And, kids tend to bring out the silliness in others. Ever see a guy play with his kid in the park or try to teach her mini-golf with ice cream all over their faces? It's freakin' adorable. You can tag along with them during all the fun things they do like zoo trips, pizza parties and playing hopscotch on a sidewalk without looking like a child predator.

Or, you can nerd out at Chuck E. Cheese's and rock the 3-D glasses at the latest Pixar movie without feeling like a total dork. And, the best part? It's not YOUR kid. You can go home at the end of the night kid-free. So next time someone confesses to their amazing child-rearing talents, give the guy a chance. You might even grow to like the little dude.

Surprisingly Not a Bonerkiller: Stroller Stallions

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Real Talk: Making The Shoebox Cut

Making it into the "shoebox stage" of a relationship is a pretty big deal. This is when we start to save little things reminiscent of our outtings together. It's when we start caring enough to want to be reminded of all those sweet things at a later time. I've had shoeboxes filled with all sorts of things: mini-golf score sheets, movie/concert/Phillies ticket stubs, photo-booth photos, ice cream sundae receipts, beer coasters, basically anything that I find in my purse at the end of the night that relates to our date.

We've mentioned that if you hand-write your number it has a pretty good chance of landing in the shoebox, or at least we'll smile at your effort before throwing it away. Guys will never see this shoebox 'cause its hidden in the back of a closet and harder to get to than One-Eyed Willy's treasure, but you can be pretty sure that the shoebox exists. It's like a relationship diary in scraps and trash instead of actual words.

The best thing about having a shoebox of memories, is that if it doesn't work out, you get to destroy all those things ala Tai trying to ditch her "Rollin' With the Homies" cassette in Cher's fireplace. Seriously, for those of you who never saved scraps of relationship shit, you should try it. Then let us know how cool it feels to burn that shit up or dump it in the ocean later. Trust us, it feels awesome.

What's the weirdest thing you've ever shoeboxed from a significant other? And what's the best way to destroy it? Get at us in the comments.

Real Talk: Making The Shoebox Cut

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Phrases We'd Like To Stab In The Face: "I Don't Like Labels"

You've introduced me as every combination of words in the English language except for that of "girl" and "friend." For instance:

"This is Lora."
"You just have to meet Lora."
"I'm so glad you finally get to meet Lora!"
And my personal favorite: "This is my very special lady friend, Lora."

What gives? We've been dating for months, hang out everyday, and I have even met your parents. I don't think it's a big deal to introduce me as your girlfriend. Your reply to that: "I just don't like labels."

Ok. Speaking of labels, I'd like to go ahead and label that phrase as one that I want to stab in the fucking face. It's not like I'm literally slapping a bumper sticker on your forehead. I'm not asking you to parade through the Piazza with a megaphone announcing that I'm your girlfriend. I just want to know where I stand for my own personal knowledge and contentment. Is that so terrible?

Labels are useful. For instance, labels help me maintain a gluten-free diet while shopping at Trader Joe's. And in this case, a label would let me know if it was cool or not to give my digits to that random hot bartender I met last weekend.

Your argument is that if you treat me like your girlfriend, then what does it matter if you call me your girlfriend? Actions speak louder than words, you say. I agree: The action of refusing to call me your girlfriend says, "I don't want to label you my girlfriend so that I can be free to makeout with other girls without feeling guilty."

How's this for a label: Fuck Off. I want to stab your anti-label sentiment phrases in the face.

Phrases We'd Like To Stab In The Face: "I Don't Like Labels"

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Flippin' Our Shades: Y-Rock on XPN Dudes

Thursday, February 24, 2005 was a dark day for music lovers because Y100.3, Philly's only alternative rock radio station, went off the air. A few passionate people were determined to keep the music alive. And, after years of transition, Philly now has yrockonxpn.org, an online radio station which straight-up rocks, both literally and figuratively. As professed radio deejay admirers, we love the fact that the dudes that host the show are so pumped about the music that many of them deejay for free. And, these dudes are hot AND funny. Check out excerpts from our interview with three of 'em below:

SK: Does being a deejay/radio host impress the ladies?
Reid: Are you asking me out?
Billy: Usually they're already so impressed by my fresh-pressed slacks that by the time we get to the deejay/host topic, it's hard to tell if it does anything for them.

SK: What would you put on a mix tape for a girl?
Billy: Clearly, Peter Cetera's "Glory of Love" from the Karate Kid II soundtrack would be involved. A Philly favorite, G. Love's "Gimme Some Lovin'" would get thrown in as well. We've been spinning a track recently called "Dream About Me" by The Depreciation Guild, which would certainly stir some romantic emotions on a mixed tape for a love interest.
Reid: Jeff Buckley always finds his way on to my mix tapes. If I’m feeling nostalgic, Neutral Milk Hotel. ELO is good too.
Andre: I'd have to get a read on what she likes. Then I'd sprinkle in some Bowie.

SK: Do any female fans ever write in asking you out or try to bribe you for tickets?
Reid: We have a great fan base who enjoy the music first. As sexy as every last one of us Y-Rock deejay’s are, that hasn’t happened…yet. Now the flocks of female fans outside the studio are a different story.
Billy: My female fans are typically sooo into the music I'm playing that they are too distracted to type a write-in ask out. At least that's what I like to think.
Andre: Actually, one listener was very creative. She Photoshopped me into the poster for Eagle vs. Shark, a movie I've mentioned my love for on-air. It won her my gratitude and respect. But no tickets.

SK: Describe the perfect Philly first date.
Billy: Of course, we'd have to take that duck bus/boat thinger around. Then eat a cheesesteak and curse at a TV together while watching the Eagles lose. To top it off, I'd bring her back to my place and pop in my Fresh Prince CD. From there, anything's possible.
Reid: I'd take her to Ortlieb's because it's the perfect mix of music and conversation. They have good food too.

SK: Tell us a secret!
Reid: When I’m on air, I don’t wear pants.
Billy: I'm dating Gwen Stefani. Don't tell Gavin. He'd rip off my head and replace it with a machine.

SK: What is the biggest mistake guys make in dating?
Billy: Now, this mistake doesn't happen all too often but it is a BIG mistake that I have seen severely crush some of my friends chances in the very infancy of their relationship: Moving too fast and trying to get ultra-serious prematurely. Generally speaking, this is dating disaster and seen as a turn-off by girls.
Reid: It’s a tie: Trying to woo a girl with a mix tape / mimic something you saw in a movie, unless it’s Swingers of course. It’s money baby, every time.
Andre: Probably getting to know someone too much too soon, and also overthinking.

SK: What is the worst thing a girl can do on the first date?
Billy: For the love of everything holy, put your phone away.
Reid: Repeatedly text in front of me. Once or twice is ok, but c’mon. Aren’t you going to call your bff at the end of the night anyway?
Andre: The worst thing anyone, girl or guy can do on the first date, is to try too hard to be anything other than oneself. Otherwise, it just feels awkward and stilted.

So, there you have it! What did we learn? Don't text too much while wearing slacks sprinkled with David Bowie. Or something. You can ogle all of them here. Thanks, fellas!

Flippin' Our Shades: Y-Rock on XPN Dudes

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Quick Rant: Missed Missed Connections

I love reading Craigslist's missed connections and laughing at everyone's love chances gone awry, although I would never think of posting anything partially because I never have any connections with dudes period, so they definitely aren't "missed," and partly because Craigslist freaks me out. I mean, it's basically synonymous with creepy, anonymous hookups, right?

At least, that was my impression until a recent Monday morning when one of my girlfriends sent me a link to a missed connection saying, "Lora, this is totally about YOU!" I clicked the link and sure enough, there was the sweetest little note:

LORA with an "O" I met you briefly outside of Tattooed Mom's on Saturday night when you were locking up your bike. I've never posted a missed connection before but thought you were adorable. Hopefully you remember me. Do you want to get drinks sometime?

Wow. That's kinda cute. My mind is raced; do I reply to this?? I remember this dude and he was pretty cute. I'd even go so far to say charming. And that was a normal enough sounding post. Totally un-creepy, right? And he remembered how to spell my name. My grandmother doesn't even spell my name right! After two days deliberation with my girlfriends, I decided to reply. This was huge for me. I've never done any sort of online dating. Heck, I was too shy to participate in our own incredibly awesome mix tape speed dating parties! And here I was, ready to write to some stranger that I talked to for about 90 seconds.

I proofed my reply more times than my college thesis. Hey! I've never replied to one of these before, but yes I remember you! Drinks would be fun!

And then I left my number. I waited. And waited. And he never called. Ever. Was it the trio of explanation points? Did he think I was yelling at him? Or did I sound creepy? Was he testing to see if I would respond, thereby labeling me desperate if I did? Somebody tell me WTF is the point of posting a missed connection if you have no intention of ever reconnecting? Oh well. At least the whole experience has me laughing even harder at other people's unfortunate missed connections every time I read them. Hmmph!

Quick Rant: Missed Missed Connections

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Things I'm Terrible At: Telling A Guy That I Don't Like His Underwear

My new dude is hilarious and handsome. But there's one thing I just can't get past: he wears tightie whities. Only Calvin Klein models from the '90s and David Beckham look halfway decent in these cottony nut huggers. Otherwise, tightie whities make me think of what little boys wear when they are just out of diapers but still wet the bed, or old men with skidmarks, or Borat in that hotel scene of his movie. I hate to break it to you, but tighty whities are not sexy on the majority of human males.

No matter how charming he is, I start acting weird as soon as I see that little bit of white elastic fabric peeking out from the top of his jeans. It's there mocking me everytime he bends over to grab a beer out of the fridge or locks up his bike. It actually makes my hands clammy and I get nervous and try to stand behind him so no one else can see it.

But I don't know how to tell him that it's a total turnoff because he's such a sweetheart. I prefer briefs but boxers are fine. I'd even be able to handle the tight little boy underwear if it was in another color, say Midnight Black or Superhero Red. Anything but white. I've tried the subtle gift-giving of briefs, only to be told that his white underwear is the only kind that fits. Really? The ONLY kind? There are like 200 underwear brands out there, I guarantee one of them will fit and not make him look like the man with the old balls from Big Daddy. My friend poked fun at him as he bent over his bar stool last weekend, saying "Awww, how cute! Tightie whities! Ha!" I was secretly cheering her on, but now he just thinks she's a total bitch. *Sigh*

Things I'm Terrible At: Telling A Guy That I Don't Like His Underwear

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Quick Rant: Why Can't More Guys Be "Nice?"

I had a guy tell me after seven months of "dating" that he never actually liked me, he was "just being nice" the whole time. I thought surely he must have liked me a little bit. "What about the vacation we just took together?" I asked him. "And the countless homecooked dinner dates and flowers?"

"Uhhh. I dunno," he stammered. "I was just being nice. I'm a nice person."

WTF? Now that I know he was apparently never into me, it got me thinking how if that's the case, then why aren't more guys just nice?! I could certainly use some free dinners and affection from people that don't care for me whatsoever but just want to be "nice." In fact, if his behavior was typical of what a nice person does, then every guy I've ever met has been downright mean. Next time someone introduces me to a "nice" friend, I'll be pissed if they don't bring flowers and pay for my drinks and shower me with attention and tell me how cute I am, because apparently that's what people do when they don't like you but are just trying to be nice.

It would go like this: "Hello there Mr. Nice guy! What do you mean you don't want to take me out for movies and dinner and lavish me with presents and help me stumble home drunk and take me to concerts and parties and call me pretty and take me on vacation? What an asshole! I thought you were supposed to be nice!" (So-called "nice" person retracts from handshake and backs away slowly, twittering to his followers about my insane behavior.)

Quick Rant: Why Can't More Guys Be "Nice?"

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Bonerkiller: Guys That Don't Follow the News--At All.

I don't pretend to know everything, but I'd like to think I have a decent grasp of what's going on in the news on a local/national/international level.

So when I talk to guys that are clueless about world events, it is by far the biggest bonerkiller in the world. This one guy that I met recently didn't know squat. I mean he had ABSOLUTELY no idea about anything or anyone that influenced the world stage. Sarkozy, Madoff, Neda, Ahmadinejad, Fumo; the list goes on. You don't even have to read anything beyond the headlines to know that these people are in the news.

Was he recently dug up from a high school kid's backyard and thawed out from a block of ice? Does he shield his eyes every time he walks by a newspaper stand? I think the illiterate homeless guy in my park that wipes his ass with yesterday's newspaper might know more about current events than him. I'm not expecting a guy to have the knowledge base of an expert guest on the NewsHour With Jim Lehrer or anything, but if he glanced at the BBC News homepage headings every once in a while and could at least nod his head in a basic discussion, it would do a lot for me.

Bonerkiller: Guys That Don't Follow the News--At All.

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Unscientific Poll: Shoulda Woulda Coulda

Let's go down the list:

• I shoulda known it wasn't gonna work out when he returned my texts hours later, even though he's glued to his freakin iPhone.

• I shoulda known when we went out with his friends and he spent more time drinking and talking with them than with me.

• I shoulda known when he spent entire "dates" on that stupid phone, even during mini-golf! I didn't know it was possible to talk and putt at the same time!

• I definitely shoulda known when he introduced me to his grandparents as "a friend."

• And I 100% definitely shoulda known when I had dinner with his family and I ended up eating on the backyard patio--alone--since there were no seats left inside at his family's table. WTF?

Do you guys have any red flag moments you look back on and realize that you shoulda known a long time ago that this was going nowhere? Kinda like in The Wedding Singer when Julia realizes she shoulda known it wouldn't work out because Glen never gave up his window seat. Somebody make me feel better by sharing your "shoulda known" moments with the rest of us. Because I shoulda woulda coulda but didn't.

Unscientific Poll: Shoulda Woulda Coulda

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Bonerkiller: Philly Sports Phanatic

Remember when the Phillies won the World Series? Of course you do! It will likely go down as one of the most thrilling moments in the lives of all Philadelphians. But there comes a point when you have to realize that a dream has been fulfilled and life goes back to normal. It's okay to move on, well at least until the next season (and this season is great, btdubs).

I was at Bishops Collar the other weekend and they had a rerun of Game 5 on the television. It was fun to watch and everyone cheered at their favorite moments. It was almost like watching your favorite movie for the trillionth time. Except for one group of guys. They were SOOOO into it that you would have thought they had lived under a rock for the past year and were watching the game for the first time. I mean, they were pounding their beer on the tables and kicking stuff and screaming expletives at one moment, and then going rip-roaring crazy with excitement at the next. Um, you do know the outcome, right guys? Spoiler alert: THEY WIN.

After getting an entire beer doused on me from these dudes' frantic celebration at the final pitch--complete with chest bumps and fist pumps and jumping and howling like rabid wolves--I realized that no matter how much I love the Phils, I would never want to date a die-hard fan because that takes some serious guts. And I'm not just talking about stomaching warm beers and dollar hot dogs on your "dates."

When quality time is equated with tailgating by the romantic warmth of a collapsible bbq grill and his idea of a great birthday present for you is a Chase Utley bobble head, it's time to call it quits. This is the type of guy that knows all the RBI stats since 1980, but can never remember your birthday (or your anniversary if you last long enough to have one.) He can also rattle off rosters from the past three decades, but can't remember your sister's name. Becky? Beth? Beatrice?

Oh, and your sex life? It only exists after the game...if they win...only after celebrating the win...only after he sobers up from celebrating the win. If they lose, forget about it. Besides, it's kind of hard to put the moves on a grown man who is pouting about a sports team's loss.

Don't get me wrong: I looove the Phillies. But love and batshit crazy obsession are entirely different things. On the plus side, these dudes are really easy to shop for (tickets/jerseys=love.) They have excellent commitment skills, even through the tough times and dry spells. One thing's for sure though: stick with this dude and there's a 99% chance you'll get proposed to on the Jumbotron at the ballpark. Here he is, drawn in all of his glory:

Bonerkiller: Philly Sports Phanatic

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Tip Our Hats: Hot Foreigners And Their Adorable Emails in Broken English

We at Shmitten Kitten have zero tolerance for poor grammar, especially in "ur" text messages. However, you get a free pass if you are a hot foreigner trying to stay in touch with us from thousands of miles away and across a language barrier. Here's an email I just received from a particularly dashing Czech student I met while teaching English in Prague. I've kept all of his typos and misspellings in tact for full effect.

Hallo Sweet Lora!

Is is a long time, when I have not written you. I have to apologize for it. How are you recent time? I have not had time for my hobbies since the sex months. I am too busy and tired. I am going to participate again conversation course of englich. I hope you will teach us one more. I am looking forward to you like teacher.

Have good day.

With kind regrads,
you pupil
Vaclav Kubelka

Damn, I wish Philly had "sex months." Maybe as a city we should look into it. But, see what we mean? How cute is this email? So, hot foreigners who send us adorable emails in broken English, we tip our hats to you. We just wanna pinch your cheeks through our computer monitors.

Tip Our Hats: Hot Foreigners And Their Adorable Emails in Broken English

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This Week: Wedding Wincing

Spring is here and you know what that means: weirdos coming out of the woodwork to converge at Rittenhouse Square Park, long lines for Rita's Water Ice, and weddings galore. Here at Shmitten Kitten HQ, this is an uncomfortable season. We're still trying to land first dates while our fellow gal pals have somehow landed soulmates and they are forcing us to participate in all of their over-the-top, mushy festivities. For the single girl, weddings represent everything we loathe--except free food and alcohol. Honestly, we kinda love that part.

To help get you through wedding season, we've compiled a few tips as well as some of our own horror stories of worst dates, slurred toasts, sloppy dancing, one night stands, wardrobe malfunctions, crazy crying brides, and "always a bridesmaid never a bride" moments.

This past wedding weekend for me and my friends included three fist fights, one arrest, two break-ups, three hook-ups, one girl cursing off the bride and an alcoholic aunt puking in the bathroom before dinner was even served; it was a blast! During the middle of one ceremony, my best guy friend texted me: "Wow, this is an incredible trainwreck" as the bride's brother started yelling/falling off the altar drunk when the couple were making their vows. That doesn't even include the bachelorette weekend antics! You get the gist.

Do you have any wedding horror stories? Get at us at hi@shmittenkitten.com. We'll say "I do" to publishing the funniest ones.

This Week: Wedding Wincing

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Wedding Wincing: Flyin' Solo

For the first time in six years, I went dateless to a wedding and was a little nervous at being so obviously single. One of the groomsmen at the wedding was an older, popular guy I had a mega crush on in high school. We had made out once before but I hadn't seen him in years. I caught his eye as he was walking down the aisle and his face lit up. He was obviously stoked to see me, as he didn't know I was going to be there. This will be a great night! Or, so I thought.

After about two dozen moments of bashful eye contact during the ceremony, he finally swaggered over to chat me up. Or should I say, he stumbled over: My dream dude of the evening was WASTED. This normally would have been okay with me, 'cause that's the whole point of weddings, right? But this was about 30 seconds after the ceremony ended, before the reception even started. I'd say he had about five solid hours of drinking under his belt by the time the "I do's" were said.

He slumped his sweaty arm around my shoulder, nearly knocking me over (he'd also gained a solid 60 lbs since I last saw him.) After slurring his speech in a 5-minute attempt at whiskey-breathed conversation, he loudly announced to the couple next to me that he had hooked up with me before and that he would do so again tonight, then burst out laughing and attempted to kiss me, but instead just licked my cheek. So much for a fun flirtatious evening with this dude!

I quickly excused myself to the safety of my other single girlfriends. I couldn't help but muse to myself how funny it was that I ever found this dude attractive. I watched him slosh around the dance floor, spilling wine as he electric-slided from girl to girl, all equally repulsed by him as he vigorously pumped his fist to Journey. I decided then that I would rather go dateless to any wedding then ever chance bringing a date as "classy" as he was. Cheers to flying solo!

Wedding Wincing: Flyin' Solo

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Surprisingly Not a Bonerkiller: Beer Bellies

While having a fit body definitely earns you brownie points, we would rather eat brownies with a beer-bellied boy. Whenever we see a guy with a beer belly we wonder if he'd be down to snack on quesadillas and knock back a beer with us. I mean, how could he not? A beer belly is like a boy scout badge awarded to those with excellent beer-drinking skills. It's out there for all the world to see.

The rad thing about beer bellies is that the rest of the body is generally in good shape; that's why it's called a beer belly, not a beer body. There's something about that magical, bowling ball-shaped bump that we find endearing. Perhaps if we rub his belly like a magic lamp, a genie will pop out. Hey, it's worth a shot.

Additionally, his belly is like a comfy, built-in pillow filled with delicious food and alcohol. You can share an ice cream sundae with him and then take a nap on his stomach without getting up from the couch. Maybe we just never got over our childhood fascination with Santa Claus, but either way, a beer belly ain't killin' this boner.

Surprisingly Not a Bonerkiller: Beer Bellies

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Raise Our Glasses: We Pound One Back With Fergal!

Tip your favorite small-batch, locally-made Porter; Beer Week is over. I know, sniff sniff. But, before we shut the spouts off, we wanted to blow Beer Week out with a bang. We got the chance to sit down with Fergal "Freakin' Beer God" Murray. Don't know who he is? Pull up a chair.

Hailing from Dublin, Ireland, Fergal Murray is the Brewmaster of Guinness beer. He's been brewing Guinness for more than 25 years. That's like 100 times longer than any relationship I've held down. And, he's got an Irish accent. Swooooon. Over a pint, Fergal talked with us about his supercool career as a brewer for Guinness and even gave us some insight into dating. This silver fox is a dude that Philly boys can learn a thing or two from.

For instance, Fergal explained that if a guy walks into a bar and sees three girls with different drinks, he could surmise the following: The wine drinker would be great to take out to dinner, but it ultimately wouldn't last. The vodka drinker would be great for one night only (we don't need to elaborate on the details of that), but a girl sippin' a pint of beer commands the room. According to him, she has "power" over men and can bring any guy to his knees. I don't know about that--I've ordered a stout many times and the boys were all still standin'and making goo-goo eyes at the nearby vodka drinker--but he does have a point about pints being sexy.

So once you've recovered from the aftermath of Philly Beer Week, be sure to raise a glass once more to your favorite brewer. *Gulp*

Raise Our Glasses: We Pound One Back With Fergal!

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Beer Week Bonerkiller: Boys That Drink Crappy Beer

Nothing kills a she-boner like boys that drink crappy watery beer and have Budweiser/Miller paraphernalia all over their apartment like a freshman dorm room. We get it: you drink beer. But, this is the same stuff I used to drink in high school with friends after scoring a six-pack from my older brother, huddled in my parents' basement thinking we were badasses.

As people mature, their taste in beer should too. I recently took a guy to Monk's who commented on what a lame-o bar it was because they didn't serve Miller. "Well, what kind of beer do you like?" I asked. "You know, BEER," was his response. Groan.

He perused the menu grimacing, unsure of what to order. It was like watching a dyslexic eighth grader looking at an LSAT exam. Don't get me wrong, I have no issues with downing a PBR every once in a while at Bob and Barbara's. I can't afford to always drink beer that has more than 3.6% ABV, but when he ordered the "Chimney" beer after I suggested Chimay, any boner I may have had for this dude vanished quicker than a Milwaukee's Best in a fraternity chug line. Bottoms up.

Beer Week Bonerkiller: Boys That Drink Crappy Beer

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Raise Our Glasses: Philly Craft Brewers

As Philly Beer Week approaches, we can't help but raise our glasses to all the craft brewers who are descending upon Philadelphia. With so much going on, one might forget that some of the finest breweries are in our own backyards: Yards, SlyFox, Flying Fish, Victory, Philadelphia Brewing Co., as well as a slew of fantastic brew pubs. Craft brewers are the reason we don't have to down nine Coors Lites before we feel like shakin' our booties on the dance floor. Give me a Troegenator Double Bock and I'm good to go.

These beer chemists can work up to twelve hours a day perfecting a brew that tickles our tummies and gives us enough confidence to do just about anything; whether it's belting out our favorite song at karaoke or finally talking to that dude we've been crushing on (just try not to burp while whispering your phone number into his ear.) And, while we're nursing our hangovers well into the afternoon, these brewers are up at the crack of dawn, mixing and mashing their magical beer potions so that we can re-live the delicious experience all over again the next night.

We're more impressed with your encyclopedic knowledge about stouts and barley than stocks and bonds. So grab your drinking shoes and head out to any of the dozens of "Meet the Brewer" nights for Philly Beer Week. Pop a few Tylenol the next morning; you'll thank us.

Raise Our Glasses: Philly Craft Brewers

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