Super Bowl Party Pooper, Part 2

” Keep smiling; resist the effort to tell her anything! That’s what she wants, conversation….”

Now, what you whistle is very important. Remember, females are primary auditory creatures, while men are more visual. Ever wonder why Seal, Lyle Lovett, and Shaba Ranks can sell so many CDs? Because women aren’t looking at ‘em, they’re listening to them, see? But a female singer? I don’t care how well she can hum, she better look good while she’s humming, or her CD stays on the shelf. Don’t believe me? Ask Tracy Chapman.

One of the differences between men and women is that men don’t throw their underwear @ female singers.

Women?

At a hot male singer?

Ha!

Anyway, this is what you whistle when you leave your old lady for your Super Bowl bash: It’s Too Late by Carole King. Females weep when they hear ol’ Carole; they have to, it’s in their DNA. Here, take a listen:

Carole King–The Queen of Estrogen

See? Them’s some powerful lyrics, guaranteed to turn your wife’s deliberate ruination of your Super Bowl Party into a Chick Weep-Fest, with you as the star!

Imagine it:

“He left me, just standing here! And—and he was whistling!

“Girl, what was he whistling?”

“It—It-It’s Too Late! Boo hoo hoooo…!”

“Ohh, that’s cold! Group hug, everybody!”

Ah, yes, revenge is a dish best served cold, with a few briny tears sprinkled in to season it.

But how do I get back in the house, you may ask?

The same way you left out, dummy!

Whistling!

Just change your song! It’s Elton John time now, m’boy. Take a listen:

 

Chicks DIG ol’ Elton, trust me!

Not only do you get back in the house, but she’ll fix you a ham sandwich and a glass of sweet iced tea!

AND…

You NEVER have to worry about a ruined super Bowl party again!

 

Hmmmm…

I forgot something! Where did you go during the Super Bowl???

Why, Hooters, of course! Or, any local pub where the waitresses have big ‘uns! Snap a few selfies, place ’em where the old ball-and-chain can get a glom at ’em! Remember, the thing is, it’s all HER fault!

 

And that, my good man, is how you control the female that infests your house.

 

Ha!

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