Sunday, March 6, 2011


QUESTION: Will taking Susan Sanders out for a fancy dinner cause her to finally have sex with me?

HYPOTHESIS: I predict that a pair of steaks and some crème brulee from Ruth’s Chris Steakhouse will be the classy catalyst I need for Susan to finally do it with me.

BACKGROUND INFORMATION: Donald Mills took Madison Crenshaw to Ruth’s Chris before homecoming and they boned in his car right afterward, so according to him this plan is “a sure thing.”

CONTROL GROUP: At no point during my and Susan’s previous twenty-eight dates have we gotten it on, and during those dates we also did not dine in nice restaurants.


(1) Chevrolet Malibu

(1) Polo shirt

(1) Fried calamari appetizer

(2) 16 oz. Cowboy Ribeyes (medium for the lady, medium rare for the gentleman)

(2) Sides of mashed potatoes

(2) Glasses of water

(1) Diet Pepsi for the lady

(1) Crème Brulee with

(2) Spoons

(1) Durex Pleasure Curve Condom


  1. Drive to Susan’s house and perspire while talking to her dad about football game I didn’t watch.
  2. Open car door for Susan, drive carefully to ensure not destroying penis before the big show.
  3. Point out my name on the reservations list to hostess, take table by window.
  4. Enjoy tasty fried calamari appetizer.
  5. Enjoy juicy Cowboy Ribeyes and buttery mashed potatoes.
  6. Spoon-feed Susan the crème brulee.
  7. Pay the big tab with summer job money.
  8. Drive to empty elementary school parking lot.
  9. Bang.

OBSERVATIONS: Susan’s beef consumption is inversely proportional to her libido. Susan does not want to screw when she is stuffed with meats and feels “greasy.” Susan does not get in the mood for love after smelling my “briny” “meat-breath.” She was apprehensive to me lifting up her shirt because she said she felt “bloated and ready to vom.” She said that kissing me after the meal was like “making out with a box of fish sticks” and that “our mouths are so buttery we’d just slip off each other.” Susan said she needed a shower to erase the oily feeling that coated her body. When I pulled out the Durex condom, she looked disturbed and said, “I can’t. I just can’t. It’s not that I’m against it; I actually want to. It’s just that right now I feel like a greased whale.” She spent the evening watching A Walk to Remember while I spent the evening sitting next to her, lamenting the loss of $64.

CONCLUSION: My hypothesis was not proven correct. Donald Mills doesn’t know what he’s talking about and I think he lied about everything. I’m pretty sure he just masturbated in the car.

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