Shoe G.A.M.E. (Part 1)



The First 10 Seconds

Comrade, it is a fact

That within the first -you hear me?- the first 10 seconds of meeting you, a damsel can tell whether or
not she can see herself:

(1.) dating you

(2.) sleeping with you, and/or

(3.) marrying you…

Usually she can judge these things by the quality and condition of the shoes you’re wearing.

I’m on my Soap Box:

I did a comedy show at a fashion expo last Saturday. After the festivities, I met a group of friendly damsels posted up on the wall outside the club. They puffed their cigarettes, and asked me if I could recommend any worthwhile clubs to go and dance. Cover charges are so ridiculous in California (even for women,) that you have to get it right the first time. I understood that. As I pointed out two or three spots that might be worth the $65 dollars apiece, I noticed one of the ladies in my peripheral, peering down at my shoes. The other started staring so hard, that it made me look down too, like I forgot which shoes I put on that day.

They weren’t listening to a word that was coming out of my mouth. My lips were moving aimlessly.

I said

I can take them off if you want to try them on.

Damsel #1 laughed, and said

I would if they were my size…I’m just impressed. They’re nice. Shoes are everything, you know.

I said “thank you” and immediately walked away as the cigarette smoke started to bother me.


This proves my theory: A woman will judge you in the first 10 seconds according to the shoes you have on your feet.

Teeth run a very close second
and Breath gets honorable mention

But trust me, shoes are at the top of the list. They are just THAT important.  If your Shoe G.A.M.E. is faulty, in most cases a damsel won’t even get close enough to participate in your oral hygience, or lack thereof.



I follow a little code when it comes to footwear:

It’s not how much you spend on the shoes
It’s how less you bend the shoes~

You should place quality and design in high priority, but condition is everything at the first glance.


Comrade, I don’t care if you’re sporting a handsome 3~piece tailor made suit that was cut specifically for your body. If your shoes look like Forrest Gump’s when he ran cross country, you might as well be wearing overalls. You’ve just negated your whole outfit. Complete the package.

Shoes make the outfit
An outfit never makes the shoes!

This may seem superficial, but that’s just how a damsel sees it.

The mentality is, that if your physical state is polished from the bottom up

then you probably


your life together.

Good shoes intrigue women. They suddenly become interested in hearing what you have to say, if there’s more where that came from. Even if they can’t afford the time, they’ll find a little bit of time and/or open up the door to a future date when they can spare it.

Also, you have to remember, comrade. Women are looking for the same things in you that you seek in them. (See: “Man in the Mirror” at a later date).
It’s getting good, right? I know.

To be continued, or, pepetuated…


Honor Thy Mother


“Your mother’s the closest thing you’ll ever have next to God…”  ~Nas, God’s Son

…so treat her as such, comrade. There is no human being better qualified to lay down the foundation of your G.A.M.E. than the beautiful woman who birthed you.  Not myself. Not even James Earl Jones.  I shouldn’t even have to say this.

A mother develops a boy to adolescence, and then from adolescence to manhood. She teaches him how to treat a woman, and how to expect to be treated by a woman in return.

IF you’re a man, and you don’t respect your mother

THEN you will never fully love and appreciate another damsel. The same rules apply if you’re a lady. Just flip it: A man will never fully value and respect you if he does not value his own mother.  Stop lying to yourself if he doesn’t…please…for the community.

Ladies: notice the early warning signs and don’t ignore them.

Let’s say you’re on a first date with a young chap.  Go out of your way to ask him how his relationship with his mother is.  If he says something along the lines of…

“It’s alright ~ but we’re not gonna worry about her today”


“I can’t stand her, she owes me money”   … put your red flags up!  Until proven otherwise, they stay up.

Let’s say your date coincidentally gets a phone call while you two are courting.  He looks at his phone, sucks his teeth, and says “it’s my mother.”  He excuses himself from the table, but does not walk far.  He’s standing at the perfect eavesdrop disance.  You notice his side of the conversation gets louder and louder.  Yelling, even.  Obscenities exchanged. Long story short, he ends up cursing his mother out and hanging up in her face.  He comes back to the table and smiles at you like everything is copacetic.

This is what you do, ladies:

Tell your date that your foot hurts

(The foot is a renowned diversion mechanism that somehow works every time you’re trying to get out of an unwanted situation with a guy. ie. When being asked to dance by the marsupial stalker in the club. But we’ll get to that later.)

Excuse yourself for a restroom break. Exit the venue and hail a cab ride home. Head for the hills and delete his number.  It does not get any better from here.

I’m not joking.

True love starts at home so there is no wrongdoing done by a mother that cannot be forgiven. Even if you have never met her, there should still be at least a modicum of respect for the estranged lady who put you here, comrade. The bottom line is, if you don’t Honor Thy Mother, then this blog will be…just that, a blog.  A tool to help you get rid of corny pick-up lines and teach you how to dress. So if you still have some stitching that needs to be done with the Mother, sit the can of root beer down and go make amends.  Return to these pages when you two work it out.

Without the foundation of a Mother’s love, your G.A.M.E. will NEVER pass the proper inspection, comrade.  Whatever your situation may be~ this goes for Stepmother, Foster Mother, or even Grandmother. (After all, she is your mother’s mother.)  Trust my words.

The Gorgeous Mother of Mine, I used to call by her first name “Angie” because we were always close.

She is my best friend. My bone marrow. The unfathomable or the unmentionable, I’d do it for my Mother without it being a thought.  There’s nothing in this world that I despise more than broccoli.  Steamed, raw, in a can, or doused with cheese, broccoli is pure evil.  But guess what: I’d devour a plate full for my Mother. You get it? There is nothing I would not do, if you hadn’t already gathered that. My Mother is where my G.A.M.E. all started and I am forever grateful.

Angie and I were always very close.

Probably because we’re only a few years apart.

She had me at a very young age.

Which turned out to be pretty okay because we had all the same teachers.  My Mom had all the back tests from a few semesters prior so it worked out.  I never had a problem in school!

My Mother nurtured me. She taught me right from wrong without being too strict or harsh—although the occasional face-slapping was quite effective in the ‘calm down’ process, and now that I look back, much deserved. – I never felt the urge to go out and rebel, because Angie allowed me freedom. She trusted me to know positive from negative. She did everything that she needed to do for me and she did it so seamlessly.  My Gorgeous Mother was and still is my ideal damsel, my teacher, my sister, my confidante, the closest thing I’ll ever have in this world next to God.  For that, I honor her.

Comrade, establish a strong relationship with your Mother if you haven’t already. Just know that she is where the G.A.M.E. begins. From her, You’ll Get A Major Edge with the damsels without even trying.