How to Spot a Stud

V day is only days away. For some this means a night out on the town complete with roses and fine wine, for others it is a night at the movie with girlfriends and a few angry cocktails with extra olives. For others, it is a mad dash to grab a date in time for the big day.

So here are some scientifically proven signs that a fellow is interested:

a. smiling with eye contact--eye contact that lasts almost three seconds, but no more, then it is just creepy.
b. showing off pecks, puffing out chest, just like the birds on animal planet do.
c. "accidental" touching of potential partner...ooh no, you have some lint on your boob, let me get that for you!
d. genuine compliments.

A male with not totally initiate, they do need some indication from a female, so don't be afraid to give it a go.

For those looking for a lady, the tell-tale signs are as follows:
a. darting glances, averting eyes.
b. "accidental" touching...oh you spilled a little soup on your pants, let me clean that up for you!
c. touching face, giggling.
d. genuine compliments.

Now, hopefully you can have everything you want this v-day, and if not, you can at least have some laughs with your friends watching the rest of the bar crowd play the games of courtship.

An Intimate Affair

I find myself sitting here at nearly 2:00 am watching back episodes of Burn Notice, and rather than thinking about Bruce Campbell's unfortunate beer gut and Miami Beach lounge wear, my mind is consumed with pubic hair. Dear reader, I warn you now, this post may seem crass or dirty or just plain gross, but when Bobbi's got a problem, Bobbi's gotta vent.

I have decided female pubic hair should be illegal. I'll extrapolate. Last night I enjoyed an entire trough of hot and sour soup at my favorite Chinese joint, and of course found my bladder in need of relief. As I enter the public restroom the restaurant shares with the parking garage next door, not one, not two, but all six toilets in the stalls presented me with a gift in the form of pube covered seats.

Now I am not sure that a similar occurrence could happen in the men's room--I don't exactly frequent men's rooms, but I am sure men would be equally disgusted. Yes I know we must work harder, actually pulling down our pants and sitting down to relieve ourselves, but because of that must we be so lazy to not properly dispose of any stray hairs? And after a little flush is it really too much to as to just do a little seat wipe down? You can't think it is gross if it is your own hair. And if you do think it is gross, maybe you shouldn't have any anyway.

So maybe it doesn't need to be outlawed, but I'm thinking a serious campaign for proper pubic grooming, maintenance and cleanup needs to be considered. You wouldn't pee on the seat and just leave it there like a drunk frat brother. You wouldn't clip your toenails and leave the little buggers on the kitchen counter, so why not just properly dispose of your curly q's.

Now. Was that really so much to ask?

Fork Etiquette

At an unromantic three-way dinner date last night, I was stricken with momentary panic when my chicken salad arrived and two forks lay beside my left hand. The outer fork was weak, like the stumpy hand of an infant. The inner fork, however, was strong--one Poseidon would call his own.

Instantly I looked up. "Which fork do I use?"
Four deadpan eyes retorted, "The small one!" as if I were an utter dinner table imbecile.

Scanning my salad plate, I analyzed my very large chunks of breaded chicken and cucumber slices longer than my ring finger. Again, I glanced as the measly outer fork, the "salad fork," which now, after perusing my very hearty salad seemed to have grown even smaller.

Now who, I wondered would be conniving and cruel enough to create a fork the would insufficiently transfer nourishment from my plate to my tummy. I realized it was my moment to say "Fork You" to the establishment and the inventor of the salad fork. I took a deep breath, inhaling the spice of the jalapeno ranch dressing, and picked up the big fork--the dinner fork.

While Martha my cringe at my fork etiquette faux pas, I say if the fork fits, use it.