HOW TO WIN WITH WOMEN (2)

So I had the new Morso Cleanheat Multifuel stove installed. I reckon I can heat my house for a whole winter with the pizza fliers that come through my door.

I tried recycling the pizza fliers, but they kept coming back as more pizza fliers, on top of the pizza fliers that would have come anyway. This is why you must destroy the pizza fliers with fire.

How many women have I had since I had the stove installed? None, believe it or not. I am sure a lot of chicks would give their right arm to go out with a guy with a top-of-the-range stove, but it is hard to drop it into the conversation without seeming like some nouveau riche Russian.

I took out my Morso Multifuel owners’ manual in Starbucks today, and leafed through it while winking at the girl opposite me. She got up and left. She could hardy finish her coffee fast enough.

I don’t understand women.

But we were talking about pizza fliers. I have no grievance against the suffering fellow creatures who put the things through my door. They are only doing their job. And they are doing it very well, since if I go away for a few days, the pizza fliers are ankle-deep by the time I get back. If only the rest of the economy were this efficient we wouldn’t be in this hole.

I guess what I’m saying is... (more later.)

When I was a teenager, DJs would devote an inordinate amount of time to the question of who was, and who was not, in the house. Did anyone ever get to the bottom of that?

The Campaign for Uncommunicative Navigation and Transit

Just bought a pair of polarizing sunglasses. They make me violently disagree with whoever I look at.

Needed some shades for my flight next week. This time I’m going to show up at the airport wearing dark glasses, a pair of earmuffs and a t-shirt that says, “I am not listening to your announcements.”

I’m flying with Delta, or “Swine Air” as they are known. They are the absolute worst for abusing the intercom system, especially the pilots. Bus drivers don’t spend twenty minutes hectoring one. They let one read one’s Vogue magazine in peace.

And if you politely request that he stops interrupting and shuts his goddamned cake hole for five minutes, they wrestle you to the ground, put plasticuffs on your wrists and have you charged with air rage when you land. I know this from personal experience.

And I can’t block them out with my iPod, because they claim it is an “electronic device” which interferes with their beastly avionics.

In fact, an iPod is not capable of bringing down a 300-tonne jet. If it were, 747s would be dropping from the sky like pheasants. But if you point this out, they will wrestle you to the ground, put plasticuffs on your wrists, taser you and have you charged with air rage when you land. The slightest show of defiance elicits this reaction.

I’m going to get the fucking boat next time. I really hate these people.