Tuesday, November 29, 2005


This past weekend, my über lame friend Ted, against all odds, managed to acquire a real, live woman the same evening he met her, further bolstering one of my long-standing maxims - Barney say he with game can bed a dame.

Question: If even Ted can bag a goldfish just a few hours after initial contact, why can't anyone?

Answer: Excellent question. While any gentleman with a heartbeat, a pulse, and a finely-tailored three-button pinstripe with color-matched neckwear can strike up a conversation with an acceptably hot donut in a bar, it takes something extra to close the deal - You've got to show her your big diction. That's right, words.

I ask you this, dear reader: Do you have what it takes to sac up, close the deal, and secure a date, preferably that same evening, and preferably at your favorite restaurant: Chez Your Pants? The following questions are designed to see if you do. If you pass, Godspeed: I'll see you out on the hot farm. If you fail, you have two options:
1) Invest in a buttocks donut and devote a solid 4-5 hours to my blog - a veritable guide to women.
2) Donate your genitalia to science - you clearly have no need for them.

Are You A Closer, or a Loser?

1. You're 3 minutes into a conversation with some long-legged Sally when you realize you've already forgotten her name. Oh no. You decide to:

(A) Politely offer, "I'm so sorry. Your name went in and out of my ears, probably because I was rendered deaf and dumb by your Helenic beauty and warming smile. Rendered so deaf and dumb, in fact, that I legally classify as a moron."

(B) Pull over your wingman and say you'd like to introduce her to him. Then, doing your best to ignore her laughter and the slow advances of your wingman's hand down her back, withdraw from the conversation and attempt to isolate only her name. Did you get it? You did? That's great!

(C) Devilishly inquire what her full name is, then suggest that you would've guessed her middle name. You might make an optional Rumplestiltskin joke here, or, alternatively, strangle yourself.

(D) Nothing, you pansy! Shakespeare said it himself: A name is like a rose, difficult to care for and thorny as crap. Besides, you've got more important things to do… like SECURE YOUR ACTION!

2. You offer to buy her a drink, and she responds, "No thanks." In response, you...

(A) Suggest that it's a good call. Irresponsible alcohol abuse can quickly lead to impulsive decisions one might immediately regret… Like letting her get away without a drink, dummy!

(B) Playfully respond: "Fine. How about I buy two drinks, and if one happens to find its way into your hand, so be it. So, what drinks should I get?"

(C) Buy her a Cosmopolitan/Daiquiri/Midori Sour, and correctly inform her that it doesn't count as a "drink," but it would be irresponsible of her to waste it, given global hunger and whatnot.

(D) Quickly answer: "Yeah, good call. Let's adjourn to my nearby hotel suite for a creme de menthe and backrub conference… Keynote speaker? You!"

3) After inquiring about her plans for later in the evening, she says, "I'm hanging out with my friends tonight." You respond:

(A) "Great! Have a nice evening. It was nice to meet you! Wait! Don't forget to take my manhood... You left it on your chair."

(B) "Okay. Well, maybe we can communicate at some point in the future, perhaps over a meal that I'll wind up paying for, and discover our common interests and endearing personality quirks, possibly over a drawn-out series of sexless, time-consuming dates."

(C) "Yeah, I should probably get back to my friends, since I'm not going to see them until I'm back from my tour of duty... If I make it back, that is... From my tour of duty... Because I'm going to war at a recognized, contemporary global conflict, ergo, I'm a brave man and most likely appeal to some nested desire for protection deep within you."

(D) Off a wistful look to the ceiling: "Each day we're given on this, our protective and motherly orb, is so special and yet, our de riguer patterns and rodentine marathon of repeated behaviors prevent us from really tasting all of life's passionate flavors. (You clench her hands) I'm sure your friends are enjoying yet another average evening, but you, fair and fortunate maiden, have the opportunity to EXPERIENCE... to live... to breathe. Come, adjourn with me to my nearby hotel suite for a creme de menthe and backrub conference… Keynote speaker? You!"

4) It's last call. The lights come on. Suddenly your long-legged Sally looks a lot more like the long-legged John "Spider" Salley, former Detroit Pistons forward. Decision?

(A) You know what? You've had a great discussion in the dark, and you're attracted to what's on the inside, not the particular set of elements that compose her exterior. It's time to gentlemannnishly ask for her number, so that you may compose yourself for a life with an amazing woman who looks like her face picked a fight with an iron… and lost.

(B) Bid farewell. You've had a nice conversation over the last hour or so, but it's time to rejoin your friends. After all, you're entering combat soon, but not without your virginity - that's safely intact.

(C) Squint. Hard.

(D) Mathematical Formula: Number of drinks she's had PLUS the number of drinks you've had PLUS the numerical equivalent of her cup size MINUS the number of your friends who have seen her in the light. Her drinks + Your drinks + Cup size (hers) - Friend witnesses = ?? If the answer is a positive number, invite her to your hotel suite. If it's negative, you run. You run fast, and you run far. Zero? Order another drink and invite her to your hotel.

5) Relative success. You've got her phone number, but she's trying to avoid your generous offer of aperitifs and shiatsu, foolishly believing you will call her very soon. If you're gonna close tonight, you need to act fast. You've got the ball, Maverick...

(A) Suggest she share a cab with you and your friends. You never know, she might enjoy the company of your loud and drunk friends, who in the confined space of a cab can delight her with colorful language, embarrassing stories, and the various odors they've accumulated throughout the evening… no doubt a natural pheromone.

(B) You offer to treat her to a late night coffee or meal, during which she can either sober up or fall asleep while you dig through your pockets in search of change to pay for the basket of fries she made you order then devoured in front of you.

(C) Forget change of venue. You offer another drink at the bar on speculation of an amazing story you have to tell her. It's a story of an embattled soul and a cold city, a story of desperation and unrequited love... and guess what? You're the main character!

(D) Ask her if she wants to see your boat/yacht. The best way to catch the moon and the glowing stars is on the Hudson, away from the light pollution of a confusing city.

A, B, C answers are worth 0 points
D is worth 1 point.

5 or more points - Congrats! You're a Barney-approved closer!
4 or less points - Congrats! You're a Barney-approved LOSER!

Tuesday, November 22, 2005


The holidays are a special time -- a special time to drink. The only successful way to combat the endless barrage of holiday traffic, painful family gatherings, and super-saccharine television programming, is to responsibly enshroud yourself in an alcoholic stupor from the fourth Thursday of November through New Year's Eve. This festive bender need not reach after-school-special-like proportions, particularly if you have designs on sharing a libation or three with a snowflake-dazed sally, or three. That's right, chicks dig the holiday-themed beverage, and your mastery of the lost art of mixology will have you roasting your chestnuts and stuffing stockings throughout this season. I've posted a few holiday-themed selections from my upcoming book, "The Gentleman's Guide to Foofy Drinks," an essential addition to any gentleman's valise.

Legal disclaimer: These drinks are the children of my own visionary brain and some of them are still in experimental/noxious stages. Neither I, nor any of my numerous affiliates, can be held responsible for any illness, fire, property damage, pregnancy, financial wagers, infidelities, or other non-disclosed malady associated with the re-creation of these delicious drinks. Remember, I'm a professional. And don't drink and drive. That's why you have a driver.

1 part Vodka
2 parts Cranberry juice
1 Boullion Cube (chicken)

A real centerpiece for your T-day spread, the Thankstini will parade down your esophagus like turkeys to the slaughter.

1 bottle Rye Whiskey
1 bottle Children's Formula Cough Syrup

Liberally spike the bottle of whiskey with the cough syrup and count your visiting relatives like sheep as you drift into a holiday hibernation of contentment.

1 part Gin
1 Tree-Shaped Car Freshener

Salute our tall, wooden friends on the last April Friday with a classy tumbler filled to the brim with dry gin and stirred with your choice of car fresheners. I recommend grabbing an assortment at your local car-wash and trying out several "shades," though I find the vanillaroma and new-car the most tree-licious.

1 part Bourbon
1 Tbsp. Brown Sugar
1 jar Bacon Bits

Garnish this drink with a pineapple ring and enjoy all the flavor of a Christmas ham, with half the calories, and 1/20th the preparation time, allowing you more time to unwrap any tasty presents dear Santa has left you under the tree.

1 part Rum
2 parts Cola (or "Pop," if you're retarded)

Celebrate the third pillar of Islam and practice self-control with a delicious R and C. Mix conservatively as daytime fasting, while providing more bang for your alcoholic buck, might have you praying towards Mecca sooner than you know it.

1 part Cinnamon Schnapps
1 part Milk
1 part Curacao
1 package Sparklers

Shoot this spangled shot and avoid talking shop at your next 4th of July barbecue. NOTE: Place sparklers outside rim of shotglass.

Tuesday, November 15, 2005


Dear Barney,
You are an awesome example to lovelorn men of all ages. Sadly, I am not awesome like you, and thus need your advice.

I like a co-worker, and get along really well with her socially. However, I lack romantic experience, and thus have qualms about asking her out on a date. I am worried that if I do so and she says no, then it will be really awkward around the office. How does a bad-ass stud like yourself deal with situations such as this?

Worried in the Workplace

P.S. I already have a suit.

Dear Worried:
Thank God you wrote me because you were definitely about to screw this one up something royal. Everything about your email (with the possible exception of suit ownership) suggests your entire approach to chicks is nothing short of disastrous, condemning you to a love-life full of dry-action spooning beneath the flickering lights of Notting Hill or some other such crap. Given your "I am not awesome" mindset, it's easy to see why you "lack romantic experience" -- anyone as consistently wrong as yourself has a better shot at getting laid by accident* than through his own laborious, Ted-headed designs. Fear not, Worried, there is an answer, but enlightenment requires a long and dangerous journey deep within your nested incorrectitude. One of us may die.

The problem is you're not thinking like a man. You're concerned if you ask out your co-worker and she says no, it will be awkward around the office. Correct. But if you ask her out and she says yes, after which you nail her and never call her again, will that not be equally or even more awkward? I take it by your silence that you had not even considered this scenario, proving you were erroneously anticipating a pedestrian office romance rather than an evening of lustful play atop the copier or other appropriate office equipment (Varsity challenge? Try the water cooler.). This is flawed thinking, my friend, for an office romance that lasts longer than a rousing game of squash, while fraught with peril for all, is most likely lethal for a man of your limited "romantic experience."

Advice? Go forth and score no fewer than six hundred biscuits without looking back. Can one of the biscuits be this co-worker of yours? Of course, but first you must either A) get her fired or B) quit your job. Then the only awkwardness you'll face will be listing "PLAYER" under "Reason for leaving" on your resume. Godspeed.

* Please email stories of accidental layage to barneystinson@yahoo.com


Check it. New thing. The Lemon Law. On a blind date and realize whoever set you up with this uggo is truly not your friend? You're free to go. Walk into a coffee shop and spot a muffin top spilling all over the hottie you've been chatting with online? Walk away, my friend. Eject. Abort. Do not pass Go. The Lemon Law allows you to bail on any date in the first five minutes, no questions asked. Consider it a hall pass for dating.

I've uploaded some cards below. Print them out, fold them over, and simply hand one to your next flailing date before he or she gets their hopes all up in your grill. You're welcome.

Click here for printable "Lemon Law" cards.

Monday, November 7, 2005


I get emails like the following time and time again. This is for all you single girls, so pay attention:
Dear Barney:

I’ve done the bar thing. I’ve done the fix-ups. I get plenty of guys but I can’t find the guy worth having. You meet tons of girls...where do guys like you go to find them?

Ripe for the Picking

Dearest Ripe:

Obviously you already have my email address, barneystinson@yahoo.com, but perhaps you are too intimidated by my masculinity and/or celebrity blogger status to just come out and ask for what you truly want. No matter. I actually prefer not to date my readers – I just can't stand being put on a pedestal – but I am willing to set you up with a good friend of mine, Jack Package.

Jack, like you, is looking for love... the big lug is such a romantic that I actually caught him filling out an application for that matchmaking service, Love Solutions. I talked him out of it, explaining to him that matchmakers are shameless snake-oil saleswitches who prey upon the vulnerable. But I think his application is a real window into his soul.

If Jack speaks to something deep within you, please email pictures (front and profile) to barneystinson@yahoo.com, and I’ll pass them along. Oh, and know that Jack is frequently and suddenly called out of the country by the Peace Corps, UNICEF, Doctors Without Borders, et cetera, all of which rely on his tireless efforts, so don’t take it personally if he doesn’t return calls or mysteriously vanishes. Take heart: Love will find a way.

Barney out.