Tag Archives: Best Friends

How To Get A Dollar

Dudes and Dudettes, let’s give it up for our guest blogger, our founder and the big idea man. . . It’s Barry!

And he’s got something to say.

Recently, my oldest daughter had to get braces on her teeth. Now, this is a girl who doesn’t enjoy pain at the best of times and for her to have to “ruin” her smile with braces and put up with that new-braces pain in her teeth. . . Well, it wasn’t pretty.

To make matters worse, she and my youngest daughter were out in the store with their babysitter. The three had gone out to purchase a mop, which my youngest daughter gleefully decided to carry throughout the store. Anyone who couldn’t guess where this was headed definitely hasn’t seen enough vintage Three Stooges episodes.

Yes, my oldest daughter got hit in the mouth with a broom handle. On the very same day she had her braces installed.

Now, the hitter was horrified over what she’d done and, perhaps, a little terrified over what her older sister would do in return, so she decided to write a nice note of apology. Which I present to you here.


For those of you who don’t have super-vision, I’ll give you the rundown.

My youngest started off as if it were a fairy tale, then moved quickly into describing the actual incident. She would never “frigv” herself. That last was forgive, for those of you who read English, rather than toddler.

However, she did ask her big sister to “frigv” her for what happened because, my youngest said, the two were best friends and needed to stay that way forever.

To this appealing apology, written with such marvelously emotive passion, my oldest daughter replied: “I will but can I have $1.00”

Yes, that’s right. She said she’d forgive her sister and then asked for a dollar.

Now that, dudes, is a young dudette who knows how to use guilt.

Cute as it all was, I’m getting a bit concerned for what’s going to happen when she grows up.

Barry, dudes and dudettes! Let’s give it up for the dude and hope he comes back more often!

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Maybe If You Hum A Few Bars? Now Hum Lower. . . Lower. . .

by Richard

It turns out that music in the bedroom can actually lead some to feel more amorous, more inclined to actually get a little dirty, dancing there in the sheets.

You see what I did there? That was a little neurolinguistic programming there, getting you dudes set up for the bad news.

Brace yourselves. Ready? You’re sure? Okay, here it is.

According to a survey commissioned by the online music service Spotify, the most arousing music to play in the bedroom is the soundtrack to the 80’s movie Dirty Dancing.

Yeah. I know. I’m having a real hard time getting over that knowledge myself.


“Dirty Dancing” was the top pick for both men and women, although the study’s author, music psychologist Daniel Mullensiefen, also pointed out that men are more willing to adjust their tastes in music in order to ensure “greater success in the bedroom.”

Good on you, dudes. Rather than show a little spine, you’ll wimp out and let the lady play the music she wants to hear all so you can do a little sheet romp. Okay, yeah. I understand that’s important, but the question I’ve got is. . . What are you doing with anyone who thinks Dirty Dancing is a good movie?

Another surprise finding? Respondents said music playing in the background is 40% more likely to turn them on than the touch or feel of their partner.

Rather not listen to “Will You Love Me Tomorrow” during sex? Marvin Gaye’s “Sexual Healing” placed second on the list, with Ravel’s “Bolero” finishing third.

So, yes, we like music. Some of us like it a lot. But this? Music that’s better than sex? No. Sorry. Maybe an entire concert with your best friends, with your favorite band playing the best songs ever, might, maybe, possibly approach within shouting distance. But better? No. Especially not these songs.

One in three participants identified Queen’s “Bohemian Rhapsody” as a song that is “better than sex.” Next on the list was “Sex on Fire” by Kings of Leon and “Angels” by Robbie Williams. Mullensiefen describes these as songs that take unexpected turns that we respond to in highly emotional, but positive, ways.

The study interviewed 2,000 people in the United Kingdom between the ages of 18 and 91, with an almost equal gender split.

Those folks need to really rethink their priorities.

Meanwhile, I’m going to do a little changing around on my “special” playlist, you know, the one I play when I’m with She Who Must Be Seeing Dirty Dancing At Least Once A Year.

Not my fault. I didn’t find out about this horrible thing until much later into the marriage. By then it was too late.

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Changing Faces

by Richard

This will definitely require more than a little time to readjust.

I sat down to write this light-hearted bit of fluff, you know, the same sort of hard-hitting, life-changing, priority-reevaluating (adjectively-enhanced) nuggets of information that you’re used to receiving here at the Dude’s Guide, but it came out as dreary, death-obsessed and gave the feeling of being tired beyond words and weighed down by Mom’s death.

Which is, of course, why I scrapped the whole thing and then started smacking myself about the head and shoulders with the frozen tuna I keep in the icebox for just such such an emergency. It’s also why I keep my feathers numbered, but that’s another story for another time.

As I say, finding a way to come back to normal life is going to take a bit.

At the same time, I keep getting flashes that I’m being more than a little stupid. I mean, I’m old (well, what I used to think of as old. Now, of course, I’m not old, only a bit less young than once I was.) and I should have expected something like this so be used to it.

I think the problem comes from the fact that she wasn’t just my mom, she was one of my best friends. Call me a cellar-dwelling reprobate if you must, but I like to think of myself as being lucky. I managed to grow up and enter (alleged) adulthood and discover that my parents weren’t all about disciplining wayward childish behavior, but actually had non-parental lives of their own that were pretty interesting.

Mom and I had a lof of long, rambling conversations where we talked about, well, most anything. I never knew where the conversations were going to lead and that, dudes, is friendship. And I miss it.

I also know, however, that if Mom were able to do anything about it, she’d be whacking me upside the head with her crutch for not getting on with life, not laughing as much as I used to, not seeing the wonder of a well-built brick wall. (No, seriously. I clearly remember one time in which we were driving by a couple of guys building a brick wall and Mom stopped the car, insisted we get out, introduced herself and me to the guys and then asked if we could watch and ask a couple of questions. I thought she was nuts, but — oddly — it turned out she was brilliant. It was an amazing half hour and I’ve never looked at brickwork the same way since.)

So, time to adjust, adapt and other positive-meaning words that begin with the letter a.

I mean, I’m sure Mom’s ghost has other things to do than hang around and disapprovingly shake her spectral head over a whiny son.

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