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December 18, 2011

The second installment of the popular "Skinface Talks Game"

As a child of the social media generation, it’s easy to see that we have access to some very different means of communication than our parents, and possibly even older siblings that came before us. Not is this in any way a knock against waiting around 7-11 and round dial telephones, nor is it a salutation to godforsaken means of communication such as the postal system. This is a nod of acceptance to Facebook and Twitter, our nation’s new vices, seated alongside nicotine and vanity in an auditorium of self indulgence. In celebration of these temples of falsity, manufactured self-imagery, and hedonism, I’ve decided to do another installment of the popular “SKINFACE TALKS GAME.”


That Mac's seen it's fair share of secret sauce!

Twitter and Facebook are great places to vent, relieve stress, and convey emotion, right?

Wrong. Men like me will devour every ounce of information available to us and use this information to program you like a desktop computer. Since the average female attention span/mental capacity is approximately seventy-six words of text, I’ve already loaded the front-end of this article enough that the knowledge I’m about to deliver will be read by a strictly male audience.


If you ever actually manage to enter a relationship with a girl, she’s going to decide what you like for you anyways, so it’s probably best to get a head start on it now— as to increase your chances of said relationship being with a more attractive woman. Most girls think that when they post song lyrics, music, and movie clips they like online, they’re expressing some sort of personal conviction, or deep-rooted personal preference. This has almost nothing to do with what a great band she thinks Coldplay is, and her frigid and animalistic subconscious mind seeing if you’re prime to bend over and submit to her like a bitch if things get serious. If you’re really into this principle, change your tastes to like things that she’s predisposed to like in accordance with her current interests; this way you can be new and exciting without actually having to do anything new and exciting. Try and think of this as broadening your cultural horizons. By narrowing towards hers.


The police haven’t done shit to control stalking women; it’s just a lot easier now. Things that, years ago, you would have learned five or six dates in, are now but a cursor click away. My Mother (bless her heart) sure as fuck didn’t graduate from Yale, but if I know one of your parents did, then maybe I’m going to get my degree in telling lies, and graduate summa cum laude, with a minor in bullshit. It’s a lethal mixture, knowing about someone excessively, but still not caring whether you ever see them again or whether you hurt their feelings.If a girl is an animal person, a vegetarian, a vegan, etc. I dare you NOT to find evidence of it online (word of advice— if her profile picture is a horse, her on a horse, or her performing fellatio on a horse, she probably likes horses. Defer to step one; now you fucking love horses too). The best thing an internet Casanova can find when doing his online homework is some major point of emotional trauma regarding a family member, this way you can ask loaded, and leading questions that will eventually lead to her opening up to you, which, in turn will lead to her opening up her Levi’s. The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, but the fastest way to some sweet tender loving with a lady is to kick down the door on her fragile, damaged heart.


Okay, now that we’re suitably armed for flirting, why not do it all the time? The ability to communicate through social media is practically an open-book exam when it comes to making a “mark” swoon. Girls love attention, so it’s important that you go beyond being readily available, to complete omniscience over her entire state of being. What girl wouldn’t want to go on a date with God? Go through her photos to make sure you’re the only person she’s had physical contact with in the last two years, because she’s undoubtedly saving herself for someone to come along that has all the same interests, the same family values, and never EVER leaves her alone. Girls love coming home to a Facebook message demanding to know where she was the night before, questioning why she’s not answering your texts, constant Twitter mentions, and the sixty voicemails you left her over the course of the evening. If she gets overwhelmed by her rapidly developing emotions, she may hold herself back from responding to your advances for a small time. Give her some personal space (probably at least five-hundred feet, and eight or nine hours), but then , if she still hasn’t raced back in to your open arms, start getting in touch with all her friends. You can spin this to make it look like you care about her and you’re worried something bad has happened, but in reality we’re just making sure she hasn’t been snatched up by some handsome internet-game-savant that’s been using tricks we don’t even know about yet. If her friends don’t yield any information it’s time to start monitoring her. If you know the right people you can get phone taps, but you have to break in to her house to install them, and no one uses home phones anymore anyways. The best thing to do is bribe Telus workers until you can get her pone records, and if you find incriminating evidence, bribe them further to ensure her plan gets cancelled immediately. Perfect, now we’re back to the original game plan, just you, a computer, and a helpless damsel.


Okay now you’ve found on the phone records that she’s been talking to your buddy Joe a whole lot since you started pursuing her. You did mention to Joe a couple weeks ago you had an interest in her, but that was before you were devoting all your time to researching every single facet of her personality online and getting her phone cut off. It’s usually best you isolate yourself during the process anyways, it’ll help you focus, and you don’t really want advice from your friends anyways, those stupid bastards all have square wheels. Now is a good time to stand and pace rapidly, foaming at the mouth out of pure anger and hatred. No wonder she’s declining your advances, Joe’s already got his filthy mitts inside her cookie jar, I can’t fucking believe we thought he was our friend. Go downstairs, and get out your Dad’s Mossberg, it hasn’t been used in a while, but the shells are the biggest ones you can find on the shelf. Drive to Joe’s house when we know he’ll be there alone and confront him. He says she’s scared, she asked him if he could get you to stop; he says he’s scared too and everybody’s worried about you.


More selfish tricks. He’s good but we’re better, he probably doesn’t even use negs, or have a set list of openers for when he talks to women, what an amateur.

All of a sudden we hear sirens. Panic. This wasn’t supposed to happen, Joe tries to look reassuring and calm us down, but we’re anything but calm. How can we keep wooing the mark if we’re locked up in prison, where they probably don’t even have Facebook. We try to run, out the back, but there’s cops out there too! A hail of gunfire hits the ground behind us, but we barely notice we’re running so fast, until one standard issue round hits us in the calf and we hit the ground like a toddler flung from a catapult.

At least they have tumblr in Jail!

Skinface out.

@ShutupSkinface on TWITTER