Tag Archives: advice

Advice from My Father

7 Mar

My father is a smart man.

He was raised in a time before cell phones, the internet, mp3’s, and fire. He doesn’t have a facebook and doesn’t text. His cell phone has a rotary dial.

It was a simpler philosophy that ruled my father’s generation–a philosophy that had so much less gray area–so much less relativism. It’s this fact that so often leads me to seek his advice.

I’ve been having a bit of an existential crisis since I graduated. For some reason, employers just cannot find a way to give one tiny rat shit about how much Fitzgerald I’ve read. Working your ass off for four years to receive a certificate that carries the same worth as roughly six months of work experience at McDonald’s is pretty defeating.

But we pull ourselves up by our bootstraps, don’t we? We lower our shoulders and keep going–at least that’s what dad tells me.

I walk into the kitchen. It’s roughly 6:30pm. My father is doing the dishes.

“Hey dad.”

“Hey, son,” my dad responds, sliding back the bottom rack of the dishwasher and setting them to wash. “What can I do for ya?”

“Dad, I’m having problems.”

My dad grimaces a little bit and begins to call for my mother.

“Dad, come on.”

He sighs a bit and turns to me. “All right. What’s the problem?”

“I think I’m in a rut,” I say. “I just feel kind of lost.” In spite of my melancholy, I have to almost physically force myself to not make a LOST joke here.

“Lost? In what way?” He asks.

In a mysterious island kind of way, I think to myself. “I mean, What am I doing? I just feel like I’m counting down the days until–”

“–Until you die?” My dad interjects.

“What?! No!”

“That’s what I do.”

“Really?!”

My dad shrugs.

“Well, have you ever felt like this? Like you don’t have any direction?” I ask.

“Son, when I was a young man, I owned a 1978 Camaro. Beautiful car. Electric blue with a big white racing stripe going up the hood. Well, one day, I was driving home from work in it, and as I pulled up to the intersection of Brown and 43rd, I looked to the car on my left, and in an old Lincoln, I saw your mother.

“She was the prettiest girl I’d ever seen. So, I revved my engine, tore off the line, and smoked her ass.”

“Wait, what?”

“Lincoln never had a chance.”

I stare at my dad for a few seconds. A clock can be heard ticking in the background. My dad just smiles wistfully and gazes into the distance, glassy-eyed.

“What does that have to do with a lack of direction?” I ask. My question seems to startle my dad a bit.

“Direction? Oh, oh yes. Well, when I was telling a friend about it later, describing your mom and the car she drove, he told me he knew who this ‘mystery girl’ was. I told him I thought she was pretty good lookin’ and he agreed to set us up.”

“So your friend gave you direction?”

“No, no. See, how could I have ever predicted that not only would I run into that beautiful woman at that intersection, but that my friend would know her, and that this random incident would lead me to my wife and kids? I had no idea. So when you start to feel stressed because you don’t know what’s going to happen five years from now, relax–because you’ll never really know. All you can do is make estimates. Just keep doing. You’ll be all right.”

I reach for a high five, but my dad just looks at my hand and walks away. “Unload the dishwasher,” he says.

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He MIGHT be That Into You. I Really Can’t Tell.

13 Feb

Hello and welcome to romance. Welcome to love. It’s almost Valentine’s Day and most likely, if you don’t already have a special someone to buy things for or eat food with, you’re desperately clamoring for one–searching through your phone’s address book, trying to find a contact that would be easy enough to go out with you at a moment’s notice, but not so easy that, after you make reservations with your restaurant, you’d have to make reservations with your doctor.

In the spirit of love and all that, I decided to write my own self-help book on relationships. Here’s the pitch for the cover:

I thought I would take out a few notable passages in order to not only help you with your relationship woes, but to also plug the shit out of my book.

Kyle,

So the other day me and my boyfriend were on the couch and we were watching Extreme Makeover: Home Edition. It was a really emotional episode, so we were both starting to get a case of the sniffles. It was the first time I’d ever seen my boyfriend cry. He told me that I was the only person he felt safe crying in front of.

Here’s my question: Is my boyfriend gay?

Thanks for your help,

Anna

Anna,

You’re a horrible person. Be single forever.

Happy to help,

Kyle.

Boom. Problem solved. See? Sometimes, certain people need to be single forever so as to not sully our gene pool. This woman is painfully intolerant. Do you want your child to go to school with the child of someone as ethically short-sighted as this? No. This woman is unfit for breeding. Once she comes to grips with this, she’ll never have to worry about dating again. You could be one of those people that don’t have to worry anymore! You! Right there! So take refuge in the fact that your solitude and your heart-breaking loneliness are harbingers of great joy and progress to the rest of us. Don’t try to call us about it, though. We’re all busy having sex.

This book isn’t just for women, though. There are a few chapters directed toward men.

Men are simple creatures. Women, you’ll find that all it takes to get into a man’s heart is to care for him, stand by him–love him. Men love love and most men love loving women. Some men love loving other men. There are also some men who love God’s more romantic animals–like horses, goats, and dogs in people-clothes.

No matter what men love, though, understanding that love is a constant source of confusion. You want to know why your boyfriend forgot your anniversary? Because he has spent the previous 364 days trying to figure out a mathematical quantity for how much he loves you (it’s in the bazillions of gallounces).

In light of this confusion, I’ve created a number of sports analogues to help your man make sense of the love he has for you.

When to know how to ask a girl out. When to know when to give a girl some space. All of these are tricky, tricky issues. I’m here for you, though.

When trying to figure when it’s right to move in or back off of a girl, imagine Peyton Manning.

Imagine him.

All you need is poise. Don’t rush the throw. I know you’re going to feel the defense moving in on you, rushers crowding in. You want to get the ball out of your hands–you feel like you need to make a play–but beware, brave warrior. If you let go of the ball too fast, you could throw an interception or an incompletion. If you wait too long, afraid to make a move, you could get sacked.

So, don’t throw it too fast or too slow. Read the defense, take your time, but don’t be afraid to act when the time comes–like when you both bump into each other in line for beer or when she glances at you after you sneeze.

When you’re in a relationship, resist all temptation to tell your partner he/she/it is “the one.” Doing this before you’re actually married (or absolutely positive you’re going to get married) is like predicting a no-hitter at the bottom of the fifth. It’s bad luck, it’s not necessary, and it just makes it so when/if the relationship/pitcher fails, everybody’s a hell of a lot madder at you.

Too much celebration after sex, much like after a touch down, is at times off-putting and, in the least, ill-advised. Get past the goal line, hand the ball to the ref, and walk back to the side-line like scoring touchdowns (and hot chicks) is just another day in the office for you.

Oh, and one more thing: it’s always safe to steal second. Just go ahead and do it.

With that, I bring my brief tutorial on love to an end–any more, and I’ve have to ask you to pay me. I hope your Valentine’s Day, whether spent in romance or with friends or in bitter self-loathing, is fun, safe, and fortuitous.

Good luck, space man.

Happy Valentine’s Day.

Lessons on Love

2 Feb

Love is a tricky, fickle, vaporous bitch. It’s also one of the most fantastic and wondrous pieces the human experience has to offer; for this reason, people spend copious amounts of time and money in search of it.

I’ve been in love a few times, and I’ve been loved a few times. I’ve even loved myself a few times (Court case pending). I have experience. I have the knowledge. I have the advice. I’m going to break down some of the things I think about love and relationships for you in hopes that you can learn and grow as a human thing through use of my brain words. Heeding or ignoring the following can be the difference-maker in whether you spend Valentine’s Day lovingly running your hand through your lovers’ vagina or sitting in your room watching re-runs of LOST, occasionally looking into the mirror to see if you can furrow your brow like Sawyer.

You can't.

1. You cannot love someone into loving you.

How many of us have, after spending a butt-ton of dollars on a gift, or singing a song (most likely not very well), or writing a beautiful letter to someone we care about, have had to stand baffled and dismayed as our love was once again dismissed? Probably most of us. If you’re reading this blog (MAXIM’S #1 Blog for the Widowed and Alone!), you’ve probably fruitlessly poured your heart out to someone at some point in your life.

Think about it this way. If a one-eyed Rosie O’ Donnell with twice the abrasiveness, half the humor, and three times the weight attempted to win your love, was there anything she could do to make you love her? No. No. Don’t even try to be funny. There’s nothing she could do. You want to know why? Because kind deeds and beautiful words are meaningless unless they come from someone we have mutual sentiments for. Without those sentiments they’re just deeds.

That is to say, unless you make an all Pearl Jam and Andrea Bocelli mix CD and deliver it in a puppy’s collar on the third anniversary of your first date. Then you better damn get a kiss on the cheek or a gentle tug or something. If you don’t get that, the person’s a loon. Get out of there.

2. Don’t confuse physical attraction for emotional attraction.

This happens all the time–a couple starts dating, there’s all this excitement and newness, and they jump right into the physical stuff–just to make it all oh-so-perfect. Well, the problem with that is that when you get down to business so soon, the physical attraction can act as a temporary (keyword: temporary) space-filler for the emotional gaps that may exist between you and your significant other. Here’s an anecdote from my life:

I hadn’t been seeing this girl for very long, probably about twenty or so minutes. It was fantastic. Our conversation was electric. The passion between us was almost palpable. Every moment was to be a memory.

“Hey,” I whispered into her ear, my hand gently stroking her own. Fire was in the air when we touched.

“Hey,” she whispered back. I really wished she had something more original instead of just taking what I said, but her ass was fantastic, so I forgave her immediately.

“Would you like to,” I lift my hand to her cheek and gently run my knuckles against its soft surface, “Would you like to bang?”

We banged.

After coitus, she lay in my arms, like a fallen angel with a now kind of ugly hair-do and nasally voice that I can’t handle for more than a few sentences at a time. Because I care so much for her, I feign going to sleep so that she doesn’t have to hear me grind my teeth as her weedeater-like voice tells me for the third time how visionary and life-changing Lady Gaga’s music is.

I wake up early that morning, look at her, and she looks at me.

“Hey, I gotta go,” she says. “My dog needs a ride to work.”

“Wait, what?” I ask as she gets to her feet.

“My friend. I have to take my friend to the groomer,” she says, getting dressed and gathering her things.

“You’re not making any sense,” I say. “What’s happening here? Are you breaking up with me?”

In the next moment, my world was turned upside down–upside down for roughly three or four minutes–however long it took me to turn on Today and laugh at Al Roker’s amusing weather-related puns.

“Listen, you’re really great, but I have to go. This has been really nice–but I don’t think it can’t go any further. Goodbye”

I didn’t hear the last part. I had found a plastic indian in my sheets and was making him run along the headboard of my bed. “All right,” I say absently. “Take care.” I make the sound of a tiny battle cry and the indian jumps to my pillow.

She leaves, the door shuts and I never see her again

So there you have it. This blog–this blog is your ticket to romantic bliss. Congratulations. Now go make me some grand-babies.

Breaking Up is Hard to Do

28 Sep

Breaking up sucks. This is no lie. I’ve broken up with a few people and I’ve been broken up with by a few people. Before I continue, though, I need to do something real fast.

Honey, this isn’t working out. I think it’s best for us to see other people.

When can I come by and get my copy of “Cool Runnings”? I do want that back.

See? I just broke up with somebody just now. It happens all the time. Somewhere, right now, someone is being broken up with. Somewhere else, maybe even in the next room, two people are falling in love. [Kyle’s Note: Editor, mark that last line for my Pulitzer.][Editor’s Note: You’ve been out of contention for a Pulitzer for roughly six or seven months now. Something about “use of pervasively offensive and insensitive language.” Sorry.][Kyle’s Note: That’s ridiculous. I didn’t want that stupid Pulshitzer anyway.][Editor’s Note: I rest my case.]

Actually doing the breaking up has sucked most times (“Most” because there was that one time I broke up with a girl by showing her an interpretive dance piece of me making out with her best friend. That was kind of cool.). Being broken up with has sucked every time. As unfortunate as it may be, breaking up is a necessary part of the “dating” scene. It’s an intrinsic risk of the experience. It’s just like how drinking an entire jug of wine in a night, while tons of fun at first,  also has the potential to end with you curled up on the bathroom floor, practically covered in magenta vomit that may or may not even be your own.

Good things are fun. We love good things. I feel like the relative “goodness” of things is why we like them, or we like them because they are good. It boggles the mind.

This holds little to no signifigance to the actual subject matter. I aplogize if you wasted any brain power trying to find a connection.

This holds little to no significance to the actual subject matter. Don't try to find a connection--there isn't one.

One Harvard University psychologist, L. Lee, has posited that there are actually five steps to breaking up. I’ve added supplementary notes where appropriate:

  1. Discovery of dissatisfaction — when either or both partners become dissatisfied with the relationship
  2. Exposure — when both partners become aware of the problem/s in the relationship
  3. Negotiation — when both parties try to negotiate a solution to their problem/s (usually involves a lot of screaming)
  4. Resolution and transformation — when the parties apply the agreed solution (and/or turns into a car)
  5. Termination — if the agreed solution does not work and no further solutions are agreed or tried (one/all of those involved are killed)

I would like to add two more steps:

6. Intoxicated Electronic Supplication — Via text or facebook message, one party will either beg for the return of the departing partner, or ask for the forgiveness of the party that has been broken up with while absolutely shit faced. Watch for key clues such as “So ufckin soirry” and a heavy use of the term “baby,” which is prevalent whether or not the term-of-endearment was ever used in the relationship.

7. Disdainful Renaming — One party whispers “What a dick” or “What a bitch” every time the ex approaches/speaks/is visible. This stage is almost a guarantee no matter what end of the breakup you are on.

Did you know that even celebrities get broken up with? Yea, it’s true. Now, their rebounds are way, way, hotter than yours, but the general motive is the same. Last week Avril Lavigne and Deryck Whibley decided that marriage just kind of sucks and filed for divorce. This proves another point: not only do celebrities get broken up with, so do married people. Marriages–supposedly the most secure and well-based forms of romantic relationships–also can end.

This sucks, doesn’t it? I’m sorry. I’m bringing the room down. Maybe these will help:

fun

cute-kitten

kittybeachkyle

Jeez. Such a successful idea. I do feel better!

Here’s something from me. I don’t think you should take a break up personally–whether you’re giving it or taking it. The best thing any of us can hope for is to fall in love with and spend our lives with someone we love.

Someone I love.

Someone I love.

A break up is more an opportunity to find the right person rather than wasting your time trying to make a relationship work with the wrong person. If you get dumped it isn’t necessarily because you’re a bad person (although you very well may be), it’s because with that specific person you just don’t fit. Get it? I hope so. Now go find someone you fit with–or just let them find you.

Kyle On: Blind Dating

3 Aug

People find love through a number of methods: online dating, blind dating, bar hopping, duct tape. There are a myriad of ways to meet someone special. Today, though, I’d like to shed my knowledge light on blind dating.

Blind dating scared the living daylights out of me, mainly because I thought you had to be blind to do it. I like to see things. I still haven’t seen the new Harry Potter, and I really need to do that before I go blind. After a brief discussion with some loved ones, however, I was informed that my assumption about blind dating was wildly off-base.

I wanted to know what blind dating was all about so I could better educate others who are equally as confused as I was. I asked my friends if they could set me up. One of my old room mates knew a girl that he thought would be perfect for me.

**Flash back starts**

“Dude, this girl is perfect for you!” He said.

“Oh yea? What’s she like?” I asked.

“It’s my sister, Cassie.”

“She hot?”

“It’s my sister.”

“Your hot sister?”

“Just my sister.”

“She sounds ugly.”

**Flash back ends**

He never called his sister, so I had to set up my own blind date. This would seem quite difficult–nearly impossible. How could I set myself up with a girl that I had never met nor seen? Easy. I went to the Parks Mall in Arlington this past weekend, assuming that the weekend would draw the highest number of attractive women. I brought my best friend, Wesley, along to help me. I don’t want to see the woman beforehand, and I don’t want to walk around with a blind fold, so me and Wesley decided that the best way to do this would be me pretending to be blind. I would dress up as a real-life blind man, complete with a cane, a sunglasses, and a surly disposition that borders on violent. Wesley would be my seeing eye dog. I told Wesley to attain a believable dog costume. This is what he showed up in:

I didn't get to see the costume until we'd met in the parking lot.

I didn't get to see the costume until we met in the parking lot.

Wesley would guide me to a girl he thought was attractive and I would ask her out, no questions asked, all the while keeping my eyes closed. I would keep the conversation to a minimum, mainly just a little small talk and an exchange of contact information, in order to maintain enough anonymity as possible before the date. I put all of my trust in Wesley to find me an attractive young lady to take out. This is how my trust was rewarded:

2_FullWesley led me to this man. His name is Henry and he works part time at the Bass Pro Shop in Garland. I’m not going to tell you what our date was like because that’s what Wesley would want me to do and I don’t reward betrayal.

Just know that I’m not ever going out on a blind date ever again.

Ever.

Getting Girls to Like You

11 Jul

Hey, guys.

Getting girls to like you is stressful and incredibly difficult–not to mention dangerous and possibly bloody. Personally, being a successful musician-turned-writer, I’ve never had trouble meeting women. Here’s a promo shot of me from back in the day:

Man, do I miss that haircut.

*This might be John Stamos

The problem with women loving musicians and artists is that most of you aren’t those things. Most of you are normal. Most of you look like this:

Not so bad.

Not so bad?

Granted, that is a lovely pair of suspenders, but other than that, there’s not a whole lot here that you would call “striking.” So what am I getting at? There’s a lot more to getting a girl than good looks (unless you’re really good looking). I’m going to show you those things.

1. Don’t ignore your appearance entirely.

Your appearance is kind of important. Girls don’t like coveralls like they used to. They no longer get into acid wash jeans. And believe me, they are not impressed by your vast array of free blood donation t-shirts. Get ready for a metaphor: there could be a sweet ass ride parked on your driveway, but if it’s covered in pig vomit, you’re going to be a bit hesitant to get behind the wheel. Girls aren’t perfect (WHAT?!), they can guilty of judging a book by its cover just like us men can. Take pride in how you look. A nice pair of jeans or a button up shirt can easily take any guy from a four to a six.  So let this be a lesson to you–wear some clean clothes, comb your hair, and do not cover yourself in pig vomit.

2. Be genuine and honest.

Women are smart. They get stuff. They get stuff that us, as men, do not (Cooking, sewing, why Sex and the City has even a nominal shread of entertainment value). One thing women “get” is constructive criticism. Here, I’ll show you what I mean. The other day my girlfriend and I decided to go to the art museum in Fort Worth. While we were there I had the… you know what? Just read the transcription:

Katie: Kyle, look at this one! (Points to a portrait of St. Jude.)

Kyle: Uh oh, careful there.

Katie: What?

Kyle: (Incredulous, whispers) Katie, don’t play dumb. You know what I’m talking about.

Katie: Kyle, I’m not kidding. I have no idea what I need to be “careful” about.

Kyle: You’re pointing like a man.

Katie: (Stares back blankly)

Kyle: (Buys Katie a Sex and the City box set)

See how well she took that? Women see constructive criticism as an opportunity to better themselves, especially when it deals with their physical appearance. It would be completely appropriate to, upon seeing your female in an ugly blouse, say lovingly “Ew.” or “Fuck you for that blouse.” or “Those shorts might look better on a skinny person.” Women love and appreciate honesty. Be honest. Notice their appearance and you will be rewarded (with sexy time).

3. Listen and engage her in conversation (with your penis).

OK, not with your penis. That was a joke. Your penis can’t talk. Right?

Women love a good listener, but a person who only listens and never contributes is like a word thief or a Somalian conversation pirate (Remember a couple of months ago? The pirates?). So, always be ready with what you’re going to say about midway through her sentence. You want to fire back quickly so you appear intelligent. Here’s an example:

“Yea, so, I dyed my hair and decided that it was time to start my new life, to leave my alcoholism and drug abuse behind me.”

“Yea? What color did your hair used to be?”

Brilliant. That guy is a Don Juan, a cassanova, a George Clooney. He is, as literature would say, an “unblushing libertine.” I love those last couple of words. I do.

Conclusion

Three steps is enough for you to think I tried, right? I sure as hell hope so, because that’s all I’m doing. With these tips, you should be more than prepared to procure any beautiful lady who happens to tickle your fancy. Believe in yourself, believe in my tips, believe in miracles. You’re a superstar. You’re god’s most beautiful creation. You’re art.

Later.

Your friend,

Kyle.

Kyle Irion: Sexual Inspirationalist.

8 May

Oh, sex. Sex is so crazy. Sex is so sexy.

As a part of a speaking tour I’m doing, I stopped by a local Civic Center and offered, out of the kindness of my heart (and $30 a ticket),to give a sex seminar. Now I’m no expert, but I’m definitely a sexpert (What?) and I feel it’s my obligation to share my knowledge with the good people of [Insert Your Town Here!]. By the way, I saw your parents there. Gross.

The room is set up with amphitheater-style seating. The seats and flooring are all black, lights shine from above me. I’m wearing a headset. In keeping with all the public speakers I’ve seen on TV, I’m wearing a tight fitting black t shirt and slacks, with a large ring on my right hand and a look of undeserved superiority. “Look, everybody. Look how smart I am. Look how much you need me.” That’s what my appearance says. That’s also what my mouth says. The audience responds with absent-looking stares and questions about parking. They’re eating out of my hand.

Seats all filled, I turn on my microphone and breath deeply. “Kyle…prepare for glory…” I whisper to myself. I forgot that I turned my microphone on. No bother, they needed to hear that anyway.

“Ok, everyone. Welcome to the ‘Kyle Sex Seminar for People Who Like Sex.'” People look around happily. It seems many of them do in fact like sex. Good start.

“Who here has a penis?” I ask. Many of the men raise their hands; others abstain. I assume that the ones abstaining are just ugly women.

“Who here has a vagina, or ‘penis holder,’ as we’ll refer to them for the rest of the Seminar?” Several women raise their hands. Those who do not seem to be offended. I have no idea why. Perhaps they’re just beautiful men.

“OK, we’re going to do sex talk now. Please remove all children. They piss me the hell off.” Scattered chuckles as I stare stone-faced into the crowd. I clinch my fists.

Right now, I’m trying to assert myself as an authority figure– someone to be trusted.

“Let’s open up with a light Q&A session. Who’s got a question?” I open my hands as if I’m about to accept a hug. One audience member in the front row stands tentatively and inches toward me with his arms open. I maced him. I had to. MACE him. MACE him.

“Kyle, I have a question.” A young man in his upper 20’s stands up.

“Go ahead.” I say

“Me and my girlfriend,” he motions to a woman seated to his left, “We have chemistry problems. We…I can’t seem to…stay erect for long periods of time. I just lose it too early…you know?”

“No, I don’t. Go on.”

The man stiffens (no pun intended) and then seems to do something with his hands to signal that he has something to say.

“Well, that’s what I’m asking you,” he says. “I thought we were…I finish too early, that’s a fairly common pr–”

“No, it isn’t. Please take your seat. Okay, let me ask you a question. What do you think about while you’re making love?”

“Usually my girlfr–”

“That’s your first problem. You think I think I daydream about cruising down the California coast in a Honda Civic? No. I think about driving down the California Coast in a sterling silver Millennium Falcon. You should do the same.”

“I don’t want to go to California, though.”

“You’re not going to California, man. It’s a metaphor. Think about somebody interesting while you have sex– someone you can never, ever have sex with in real life– like John Stamos or Ron Howard. Think about bangin’ Uncle Jesse; that’ll get your rocks off.” I make a gun with my finger and *click* at him.

“Next question?” This time a woman stands politely and waves to me. I wave back. She waves at me again and laughs. I flip her the bird and tell her to get on with it.

“All right,” she says, “How can I turn my husband on? I’ve tried everything, but I just c–”

“Lose 20 pounds.” I should not of said this. Time to evade.

“What?” She asks.

“What?”

“Did you just tell me to lose 20 pounds?”

“No. I told you next question.”

“What?”

“Okay, next questiοn.” I survey the audience. “You sir, in the back, yes.”

“Kyle, what makes you an expert on sex anyway? I also feel that someone should ask how you got into our Homeowner’s Association meeting and why we had to pay you $30 for this crap.”

“Phil. May I call you Phil?”

“That’s not my name.”

“Okay, well, Phil. For your first question, as to how I’m an expert, I’ll put it to you this way: I’ve had sex with a lot of women, somewhere between two and a thousand– but closer to three. I’ve also watched porn–and one time I might of heard my room mates having sex.” I pause for a moment, “Not with each other, with women.” I stop to giggle. “Is that enough for you?”

“All right, but what about the rest of my questions?”

“You only get one question. Next question?”

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