Tag Archive for: Andrew Munge

Is there a holiday more fraught with emotional baggage than Valentine’s Day? Sure, it’s supposed to be a celebration of love in all its forms, but it also unnecessarily triggers anxiety for those who are unhappily romantically unattached. “Andrew Munge” speaks to these folks, particularly those, like him, who are unhappily romantically unattached for good reason — in that they have no game and/or are awful people.

Getting the Girl is a guide to, well, getting the girl, so to speak, and Mr. Munge speaks from experience as being one of the biggest and most entertaining losers the world has ever known. Enjoy these excerpts from his masterpiece of a manifesto, in stores now, just in time for Valentine’s Day.

(Please note: Andrew Munge is a fictional character, a persona devised by two very funny writers whose names we aren’t readily revealing at the moment. Getting the Girl is an extraordinarily tongue-in-cheek work of satire — Munge isn’t in on the joke, but all the rest of us are. Join us.)

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Pickup Artists have somewhat of a bad name. Much like the humble shark, we’re called “predatory,” “vicious,” and “pathetic.” Yet deep down, we’re misunderstood, driven, and instances of us being involved in violence are over-reported. You’ll get a lot of backlash for associating with this dangerous book so stay your course! Pickup Artists are looked down upon, often literally, as statistics show many of us are under five foot six. Some people say we dehumanize females. This is horse bullshit. A female has to be identifiably a Homo sapien before I’ll go anywhere near her. In my book that’s a moral win, and this is my book so that is a moral win.

 

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Let me make something clear to you. The Friend Zone does exist. It is not a myth. It is not something shitty guys invented to make themselves feel like their romantic shortcomings are the woman’s fault. It does not imply a woman chooses what to feel. If women want to think it’s my way of shirking the emotional responsibility for how others see me, then they’re just haters. That being said, if a ball is thrown at you, you can dodge it or catch it and throw it back. That’s just Football. Similarly, if a female tries to lure you into the Friend Zone, hit on one of her friends. This will make her reassess your relationship. She’ll think, does she want to be jealous? Does she want to be angry at her friend for potentially being hotter than her? These are things women actually think. She’ll welcome your attention when you flirt with her again.

 

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Clean up, but not too much. You don’t want her thinking you’re some obsessive compulsive who always needs his floors polished and toilets flushed. You need to appear as if you have a real life and there are many ways to fake this. Have your mail laying around. Display your Richard Dawkins books prominently, making sure to leaf through the pages a couple times so it looks like you’ve read them. Have coffee because of the line about inviting her up for coffee. If you don’t have any coffee, she’ll know it’s a trick. There’s no need to store any food as females don’t want to eat until after you bang, and by that time who cares? Music is important. Prepare a specific playlist of sex tunes. Classical creates a romantic atmosphere and demonstrates your worldliness. I recommend Nocturne Op. 9, number two in E-flat major by Frédéric Chopin. It’s shit but it gets the girls wetter than a duck’s dick.

 

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If you want sex to last longer there are lots of ways to distract yourself at the crucial moment. You could:

– Count sheep

– Play The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air theme over and over in your head

– Think about a time you were betrayed

– Give human names to every object in the room

– Imagine what you would do if all your family was dead

I distract myself by trying to list all the numbers in alphabetical order. Other times I’ll make plans for my funeral. For instance, I would like some kind of military procession, not that I trust the military or even believe it exists, but I’ve paid enough taxes. I’ll be brought through the streets in a glass coffin like some combination of dead Soviet leader and living Pope, preferably during rush hour so as many people as possible see. I’ll be buried in a public park (again, taxes) to a reading of my favourite poem, the lyrics from “Snuff” by Slipknot. Once buried, the twenty cubic feet of surrounding dirt will be exhumed and cremated. The ashes are then to be taken and compressed into a diamond, which will be launched via firework into space. If the diamond compression space launch plan is unfeasible, I would like my ashes to be scattered inside the British Library.

Getting the Girl is available wherever you get your books.