Ehren Writes A Romance Column

Ah, the internet: supplier of porn, haven of child-molesters, and purveyor of useless information. Clearly, the fact that I work for an internet company has done little to improve my opinion of the online world.

Among the more worthless features provided by my company is a “Romantic Tip of the Day” section. Said tip isn’t actually written by anyone in company. In fact, no one seems to know WHO wrote this mind-numbing schlock, because it’s set on a constant, year-long loop that first appeared 6 years ago. That’s right. It’s only a “daily tip” if you’re permanently living in the year 1974.

Some of you might wonder why I said 1974 instead of 2001. All my entries were actually penned in the ‘70s and have been repeated ever since. Hey, like Travolta, I know my career will never die.

Anyway, a sample of this daily load of shit is:

My boyfriend and I have been going out for 2 years now and sometimes it is hard to find a new fun ways to surprise each other. So, I decided that instead of waiting for the next holiday to spoil him, I would create my own holiday--in his honor. I called it Appreciation Day. The entire day was filled with fun surprises to let him know that I truly appreciate his love and friendship! Needless to say, by the end of the day, I think I eventually got my point across!

I hope God strikes their genitals with warts the size of basketball.

At any rate, there was recently a panic because the feature wasn’t updating. And some of my co-workers joked that I should take up the mantle of supplying romance to fat people in Ohio. Hey, that’s what they make duct-tape and blindfolds for. Here’s a taste of what an “Ehren’s Romance Tip” column would look like:

• Take a day to finally fulfill her rape-fantasy! Or better yet, hire a friend, co-worker, or felon and make it a day she’ll never forget!
• Nothing says “I love you” like a swarm of locusts. In his car.
• Above all, women value commitment from the men in their lives. Make a statement by getting closer to her family. Have sex with her sister. Her 6th grade classmates will think she’s “sophisticated.”
• Some men find prostate-stimulation arousing. Surprise your lover tonight with chloroform and a 12 inch black rubber dildo!
• Spice things up in the bedroom tonight with a little adventure and competition: last one to orgasm has to fuck that crazy, knife-wielding hobo that lives under the over-pass.

I really missed my true calling in life. Of course, maybe it’s for the best. People who get romantic tips online should never breed anyway.

The Other Other White Meat

I was thinking today that should my current employers wise-up and fire me, I have the perfect fallback career. In the event of my inevitable termination I’ll pack up my things, move to New Guinea, and start a Human Ranch.

Now, if you’re a member of the local cannibalistic tribes, why settle for the same old fair of lost tourists when you can have Handsome Ehren’s Corn-fed Free Range Human? Nothing toughens up a cut of meat like stress and there are few things in the world more stressful than wandering through Cannibal-infested jungle.

Of course, I imagine that competition would eventually be inevitable once people see the kind of dough I’m raking in. Fortunately, I have an idea to keep me one step ahead of the competition: Human Veal.

Yes, nothing warms the heart like the thought of 10,000 babies being force-fed through little, tiny cages.

Your Girlfriend Has AIDS...Metaphorically

People like to say that there’s a distinction between women and bitches. There is, but it lies only in the probing mind of the beholder. Much in the same way they can give you AIDS without you realizing it was them, those girls you consider to be non-bitches are really just women careful enough to cover their open sores with make-up.

That’s right, I just compared bitchiness to full blown AIDS. Both are non-treatable. The only difference is that I didn’t give bitchiness to your mom. She was a bitch even before the unprotected anal play.

Over the years, I’ve gotten used to the general pettiness of women. Not that men can’t be petty…but women seem to have the innate ability to transform a mild incompatibility into a full-blown Israel - Palestine level of hostilities in a way that is just stupefying to me. For example, Jane cuts in front of Darla in the line at the office cafeteria. So Darla, having no other possible recourse, spreads the rumor around the office Jane is an unreliable drunk. Jane, acting in accordance with female etiquette, has Darla’s children crippled by hiring a deranged hobo to jump them in the parking lot at school with a hubcap. So Darla neuters Jane’s husband with a bolt-cutter and injects radiator fluid into Jane’s spine with a syringe in the elevator.

I know, I know. It’s the oldest story in the book.

The thing is that I have this weird tendency to forget that this viciousness continues to exist, lurking just below that thin layer of mascara, blush, and lace.

I was at a bar last weekend, when two of the girls in my group began discussing a girl at the bar.

“What’s going on now?” I asked in my typical on-the-ball manner. “You hate who because of what?”

“That cow in the pink shirt over there.” One of them hissed. “She’s such a cunt.”

I don’t know a lot about women. I do know, however, that when they use the word “cunt” to describe someone, it’s not because they want to dyke out with them. Believe me: I’ve tried to push the issue.

No, if there were two men involved in an altercation who happened to run into each other in a bar, there would have been one of two courses of action:

1 ) They would head out to the parking lot and beat each other senseless like decent human beings.

Or

2) They would actively ignore each other and nothing would happen.

Neither of these options were acceptable for the females. Instead, they launched themselves over to the offending woman, and struck up a lively conversation. They chatted for about 20 minutes, before inviting her over to join our table.

The evening marched onward with the casual banter and mirth of a knife fight.

“So Martha, I heard your husband was recently laid off. Don’t feel bad, we’re all amazed he lasted this long. He isn’t drinking again, is he?”

“Nancy, I just love that shirt on you. I didn’t know that JC Penny carried plus-plus sizes.”

But in case, if there was really any question about who is more evil men or women, the final point was driven home by the rounds of drinks and cigarettes that the ladies kept forcing on their foe from the bar. Cocktail after cocktail followed countless blazing butts down her throat. One of the girls even got up to buy a new pack of cigarettes.

“And why is that evil?” you ask. To be honest, I didn’t understand it either…until the girl started discussing baby names with the group.

Evil.