How to be a “Tiger”: Pretending to be Rich

Did you miss me? Don’t deny it! I’ve seen all the emails wondering when I would write again, begging for my phone number, suggesting they give me a daily column or rename the site “Tales of the Tiger”. But I’m a magnanimous fellow. I don’t want my colleagues to suffer in my shadows…

Anyways, this time I thought I would talk about something that girls love even more than a man with a college education: A man with money. “But Tiger, I didn’t even go to college; how am I supposed to get money??” I know, I know, relax! I’ve got you covered. Today we’re going to learn how to convince a girl that you’re loaded even if you’re in debt to your grandmother.

So let’s imagine you’re working at a gas station. A hot chick pulls up and asks you to fill her tank up, what do you say? “Regular or premium?” NO! You tell her: Hi, my name is Chester B. Exxon Mobil IV, I came here today to speak with beautiful customers like you and make sure that you were satisfied with our service.

So a couple days later after asking her out (you did remember to get her number, right?), you swing by to pick her up in your “good as new” 1997 Dodge Neon. Don’t worry! Explain to your lady friend that you swapped cars with your butler so that he could drive his daughter to her wedding in your Lamborghini Diablo.

Now here comes the tricky part, you are going to have to take her out to dinner. Breathe! Pick a fancy and exotic restaurant and let her order whatever she wants. When you’re done eating, start frantically searching under the table. Tell her that you lost your lucky secret decoder ring. Beg her to look in your car while you pay the bill. Wait about two minutes before sprinting out of there yourself.

As you are getting close to her place, clutch your stomach and cry out in pain. Explain that it’s your thyroid; it always acts up this time of night. With a tear in her eye, she’ll grab your hand and let you inside to “nurse you back to health”. It’s going to be a good night, my friend!

- Mike “the Tiger” MacNamara

How to be a “Tiger”: The Value of a College Education

So this week’s tip for getting lucky with the ladies is about: The college education. Or to be more precise: How to fake a college education! Because who has $200,000 to throw around? I certainly don’t, but I still graduated from Harvard. What’s the matter? You don’t think “the Tiger” is smart enough for Harvard? I bet you have a lot more respect for me now, huh? You probably are even starting to feel a bit attracted to me.

Wait, how did I just do that? I lied. It is the easiest thing in the world. Come on, give it a try!  The next time you meet a girl just drop the name of a famous institution of higher learning. She’ll never know the difference. It’s not as though she is going to ask to see your diploma. Just memorize some Latin or French lines to recite when she asks what you studied. Girls love that sort of thing. Nothing better than a refined gentleman who has read books written by dead people in foreign languages.

All you need to do now is make up a couple facts and you are good to go. “Did you know that 4^th century Mesopotamian farmers revolutionized agricultural yield production with bifurcated piece-meal carbon footprints?” “This reminds me of something the Molocration general Xzu Mala Fassa Lacka once said, ‘Beauty may be in the eye of the beholder but victory is something to be taken with a clenched iron fist!’”

Then of course there is the delivery. You can’t speak like Joe Blow who serviced your car last week. Remember you are a college graduate! You need to sound intelligent, cultured, and condescending. So do yourself a favor and rent every Hugh Grant movie that you can find. Nobody epitomizes all of those traits better than the British.

And just like that you’re a verifiable college graduate with a major in Sophisticology and a minor in Allure. No woman will be able to resist. But don’t thank me, thank the ivy-covered halls I’ve never laid eyes on.

- Mike “the Tiger” MacNamara

The Subtle Manly Art of Making a Sandwich

I want to apologize for taking so long to write this article but I’ve been preoccupied lately with saving the world. I’m kind of a big deal. The Navy SEALS say they’ve never seen someone so adept in the arts of Kung Fu, Jiu Jitsu, and Capy Bara. Anyways, I can’t go into detail but let’s just say a certain famous Pakistani dude (or was he Assyrian?) won’t be making anymore homemade videos. I should be getting the Congressional Medal of Honor any day now. Boo Rah!*

This week, instead of giving tips about getting the ladies, I thought I would talk about my other great passion: cooking. Now, I know what you’re thinking: “the Tiger” cooks? Can’t he just get a lay-day friend to do it for him? Yes, I can! But there are certain dishes that only a man has that certain je ne sais quoi to make. Top of the list is the sandwich.

Now some may tell you that making a sandwich is easy, but they are wrong, my friend, they are dead wrong. Sandwichry, as I like to call it, is a long intensive process that requires skill, practice and patience. It is the craft of real men. You can’t just slap any old piece of meat together with some processed cheese and call it a sandwich, you have to be conscientious of just how all those different juicy morsels of pure unadulterated goodness are going to melt in your mouth. So choose wisely. But the true mark of the man’s sandwich, a “manwich” if you will, is measured with a yard stick. If your sandwich is stacked so high with assorted meats, cheeses, sauces and vegetables that you can’t pick it up without something falling out, if it’s so massive that you can’t bite into all of it at once, that’s when you know you’ve made a proper sandwich.  Congratulations, compadre! Just remember, no knives or forks allowed!

- Mike “the Tiger” MacNamara

*Ed. TES does not know why Mr. MacNamara disappeared for so long (perhaps gambling debts got too high or an ex- tracked him down?) but we can promise our readers that he had nothing to do with the recent death of terrorist mastermind Osama bin Laden. Fortunately, that task was left to actual professionals.

How to be a “Tiger”: Mike’s Guide to Picking up Women

So, I’ve been asking myself lately, Mike, what pearls of wisdom should you impart upon the masses this week? Boy, people just don’t appreciate how hard it is to be a smart talented handsome twenty-something guy.  They’re just too many things I know about the world that you don’t.  Because let’s face it, being the “Tiger” means being awesome.  But after reading some of the ridiculous questions that the Master of the Extraordinary receives, I suddenly realized my calling: I should teach you guys how to pick up chicks.  How to prove to the ladies that you’re the champ. Cause that’s what it’s all about after all, showing them you’re the champ!

 You’ve got to be the boss.  You know what’s going on.  You’re the greatest thing that ever happened to them.  But just when they start to get attached to you, WHOOSH!  You disappear into thin air like you were never there, like a brief but wonderful dream, the best dream they ever had or ever will have in their whole life.

Anyways, today I wanted to focus on picking a name.  A sexy, mysterious magical name.  After all, you can’t just go up to a girl and say, hi, my name is Mike. No, no, no!  Do you want to spend the rest of your life looking at porn in your mother’s basement? So come on, think of something good.  “Tiger” for example is a great name.  It’s a powerful, dangerous, beautiful animal.  Hey, baby, would you like to go for a ride in the jungle with the “Tiger”?  See, much better!  She is already dreaming about you picking her up with your big strong arms and throwing her into bed.  You’re just too sexy for life.  You’re an animal.  You’re.. AMAZING!!!!

…..Well, that’s awkward.  You don’t happen to have a towel do you?

-Mike “the Tiger” MacNamara

Help! A Hot Chick was Abducted by Aliens

That’s right, I’m back! Mike is on the job once again. I knew they would come crawling back. They always do. I’m just that awesome. They should sell cans with my face on them and call them “Awesome n’ a Can.” They could make a million bucks off that shit. Honestly, I don’t understand why I don’t see my face in more places. I’m a damn good looking man, if I do say so myself. Moreover, after telling our editor about the alien abduction, he practically begged me to come back.* I mean it’s literary gold.

It all began last Saturday evening after I started making out with this really hot girl I met at a bar (What can I say? The ladies love me). Anyways, our tongues were getting quite the workout, when I decided that it was time to move onto the main course. So I drove her back to my pad in my yellow Maserati.

We get right into the thick of things and it’s going great – I’m a machine! Anyhow, about 70 minutes later, she asks me for an aspirin. So I go to the bathroom to look for one but when I get back, she’s vanished. Now I know she was enjoying herself because I saw her texting a friend, saying how amazing I was. Therefore the only logical conclusion is that she must have been abducted by aliens. Why else would somebody miss out on round two? I’m the Mo*#&r-F#&^##ng Tiger!

So this article is a warning for all you ladies. Watch out for little green men!

-Mike “the Tiger” MacNamara

*Ed. Please, this idiot came to me in tears, whining about how unfair life is and how it wasn’t his fault that he had bitched out our entire staff. I only let him write this article because I felt bad for the guy.

Break-in at TES

So I’m sure by now you all have heard about the raid on our offices by the FBI, CIA, IRS and PETA.  A small squad of ATF agents, wearing bullet-proof vests and carrying M72 LAWs entered our central offices around 5:38 this morning.  They did not accept our offer to sit and chat over a nice cup of hot coffee. Instead they immediately began ransacking our file cabinets and rummaging through stacks of empty bottles, gum wrappers, back issues of MAD Magazine, Carlos’ “XXXtra Fun with Animals” DVDs, Simone’s inflatable Zena Warrior Princess doll, Mike’s letter of “resignation” and the Master of the Extraordinary’s tawashi collection.  We don’t know what they were looking for and we can’t be sure of what they took.

However, we want to assure all of our readers here at Tales of Extraordinary Sanity that we have nothing to hide and are entirely innocent of all wrongdoing.  Furthermore, we have already contacted our lawyers about pressing charges for unlawful search and seizure.  Finally, we want all of our beloved fans to know that in spite of this overt attempt at political persecution, we will not back down and will continue to bring you the truth as long as blood still flows through our battered calloused fingers.

Happy April First!

- Carlos de la Gringa, Mike “the Tiger” MacNamara,

Simone la Cuercha, The Master of the Extraordinary

An Article about Something

It’s 4:30 in the morning and I have nothing interesting to say. I’m screwed! If I don’t have something ready by the time my editor wakes up, he is going to fire me. ME!? Can you imagine that? He is already mad at me for “showing up late for work” (clearly, his watch is fast), “wasting time on the computer” (checking facebook, downloading music and watching porn are all productive uses of my time, since you never when you’ll get your next inspiration), and “possessing a general lackadaisical attitude” (Should I bother looking that word up in the dictionary?).

He even said that a “pair of armless blind baboons” could do a better job than me and would cost less too (Talent costs money!!!). Besides, who knows more about “extraordinary sanity” than me? Somebody, who never does any work unless he absolutely has to, never goes to a party unless he already knows who he is going home with and never cooks unless his maid, his sister and his mother are all sick at the same time. Moreover, somebody, who generally finds a way to cheat, lie or steal his way out of any problem that he has ever faced.

You are never going to find anybody else like me! You should be begging me to stay. You should plaster my face on every Goddamn page of your stupid fucking site. Hell, you should build a temple dedicated to my awesomeness, that dwarfs the temples for Zeus, Buddha, Maradona and Charlie Sheen.

How is that for extraordinary sanity, asshole?

- Mike “the Tiger” MacNamara

-Ed. Nice piece but you’re still fired.