I can understand not wanting to go to your 10 year reunion. Andrea Wachner took that feeling of dread before a high school reunion and turned it into an epic caper. She hired a stripper to attend her ten-year high school reunion in her place. Equipped with a camera crew and a hidden microphone, the fake-Andrea tore it up. She schmoozed. She reminisced. She stripped on the dance floor. She had an incredible night.

Now, I think this is completely crazy. 100% certifiably nuts. If you hated high school, then it’s best to just avoid any reunions that pop up on the horizon. But only a woman would scheme in such a grandiose manner. Only a woman would go to such great lengths to show her disdain for her graduating class, even ten years after she was liberated from the prison of high school.

I’ll be the first to admit that it’s hilarious, but in so are tabloids. That doesn’t mean I have to read them. Here’s a taste of the reunion:

I’m all for improved vision, but at what point does it become necessary to change your eye color in the process? I know a few dozen women who find it necessary to mask their beautiful browns with some gnarly, unnatural contact lenses.

I guess it follows the same logic behind getting fake tits?

The thought process goes something like, “These will make me feel better and more self confident.” I think this proves that, if there is an improvement in vanity products that will make other girls jealous, females will buy three and then use the ole’ self confident excuse to justify their purchase. That way everybody wins.

Women Be Trippin everywhere and all the time. Here’s the next chapter in our list of 101 Ways Women Be Trippin.

This is one that I’ve never understood. A girl meets a weird-looking dude on the street. She doesn’t think twice about it. But give that guy a bass guitar and a six-inch stage and he suddenly becomes irresistible.

1) Starfucking.

Starfuckers are attracted to anybody who’s got a stage under their feet and more than three people screaming their name. In fact, a Star’s attractiveness is directly proportional to the size of his fanbase. If he’s the keyboardist for the opening band at a coffeehouse, then he’s mildly attractive. But if he’s the biggest rock star in the whole world (even if that does make him 65 years old), then he’s fucking gorgeous.

What’s amazing is that this doesn’t just hold true for rock stars. Even angry, bitter, unattractive stand-up comics can be the recipients of a good starfucking. I guess all that matters is a stage and a spotlight.

2) Jersey Chasing

Like starfuckers, jersey chasers are only attracted to athletes. It doesn’t matter if he’s Wayne Gretzky or Jack Haley. All she wants is to be able to watch him play on game day and tell all her friends, “That’s the guy.”

The old cliche is that it’s not about the name on the back of the jersey, but the name on the front. Well, for jersey chasers, it’s all about the name on the back of the jersey. They could care less what team he plays for or if he’s any good.

3) “I Just Love a Man in Uniform.”

I’m not disqualifying the sacrifices that men in uniforms have to make, but why does it earn them an automatic fan club? Where does it end? Astronauts? The Coast Guard? Chief Wiggum?

As far as I can tell, there’s no male equivalent for starfuckers. No guy looks at Courtney Love and thinks she’s any hotter just because she was the lead singer of Hole. Nobody finds the Williams sisters more attractive because of their mammoth thighs and seventeen Grand Slams. And girl-firefighters might be some guys’ fantasies, but that fantasy includes hot women, not normal-looking goobers like “Goose” from Top Gun.

From before they enter Kindergarten, girls have a constant need to let the world know how cool they are. It’s what we like to call “Public Exclusivity.” Some do this by being mean and condescending to their sisters. As in, “Omigod, Sarah. You still play with dolls? You are such… a baby.” Some do this by starting secret clubs. (See the Babysitters Club, Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants or Suicide Girls gangs.) Some older girls will date guys for status. Examples include Anne Nicole Smith, Holly Madison and, for those of you who went to high school with me, Kelly Dubrow.

But in this age of technology and second-by-second status updates, there are new ways to exhibit public exclusivity. Recent showcases of condescending coolness that have shown up on my newsfeed in the last 24 hours include: “Just got home from finishing in the top 10 in the 5k race”, “Spotted Lauren Conrad at Barneys”, and “Just looked at pictures of myself from Coachella…Epic.”

Another convention of this is the well-known Facebook relationship. OMG, you girls are sooooooo cute. You’re best friends, but you’re married to each other on facebook! A-dorable. And as if that wasn’t enough, why don’t you go ahead and post on each other’s wall about how much you love each other. BFFAEAE. But if you wanted to take it even farther, just start a facebook group about how you’re obsessed with each other.

The point is, nobody wants to hear how cool you are. In fact, the older we all get, the less we want to hear about it. The more you talk about how cool and exclusive you are, the less I believe it. Face it, girls. You can be cool and have a million BFFs, but the world doesn’t need to know.

Women Be Trippin everywhere and all the time. Here’s the next chapter in our list of 101 Ways Women Be Trippin.

It is common practice for anyone traveling to bring an extra pair of underwear, socks or even a jacket or sweatshirt. Most people would call these items “just-in-case” clothes because, well, just in case.

So if you’ve ever been traveling with your girlfriend, mom, sister, or maybe you yourself are a compulsive suitcase stuffer, you know how ridiculous women can be when it comes to overpacking. It usually works like this: an overnight bag has clothes to last the average girl an entire holiday weekend. Packing for a weekend trip involves at least one moderate sized rolling suitcase, a purse and maybe a carry-on. One to two week trips, no matter where, no matter how much extra luggage charges are and no matter how readily available laundry machines are (god forbid you should have to do laundry away from home), we’re talking two or more large suitcases that could not have been zipped without some major squeezing and stuffing.

This goes beyond “just in case.” At this point, we’re talking an entire wardrobe folded up in your Samsonite. This is an “I can’t go anywhere without my 4 different conditioners, hairdryer, that dress I never wear but you never know… and I need a different pair of shoes every day” kind of trip. These trips are guaranteed to be headaches from the start because these girls are packing suitcases that weigh more than them. There’s no chance that a girl who packs two enormous suitcases weighing over 200 lbs is carrying that herself.

Which means some annoyed boyfriend, brother or even worse yet a stranger is now hauling your life in two rolling Louis Vittons while you just point and hold your purse. Point is, nobody likes to get a hernia from lifting other people’s stuff, and nobody likes the high maintenance overpackers who can’t carry their own shit. Keep it simple, ladies.

If I were an artist, sitting in my studio, deciding what to create next - I would never, in a hundred million years, think to create a six-foot tall monkey, with scale-accurate genitals.

Seattle artist Monica Lindman disagrees. She created an “anatomically correct” sock monkey out of recycled goods. Well, I guess a giant monkey penis is one way to save the planet. The monkey, appropriately named “Mr. Johnson,” stands six feet tall.

I don’t… I’m really… I’m speechless.

Congratulations are in order for Monica Lindman, I suppose, for trippin so hard that I’ve got absolutely no way to respond to this.

(Thanks, Laura Mappin, for the tip. Got a tip? Let us know.)

If I bought my girlfriend something practical for her birthday, I’d be tarred and feathered, put on some FBI list, and relegated to the spiteful stares of my girlfriend’s friends. Women don’t want practical gifts. They want something superficial. I don’t necessarily mean that they want something expensive, but they want something that will make them the envy of their friends.

The biggest difference is that I want something I can use: She wants something she can show off.

Here’s what women want in a gift:

1. Something to hang on their wall.
2. Something shiny.
3. Something to wear.

I’ve finally figured out the perfect gift. It satisfies all three requirements: Suit of armor. Displayable on the wall? Totally. Shiny? Very. Fashionable? Oh yeah.

Women Be Trippin everywhere and all the time. Here’s the next chapter in our list of 101 Ways Women Be Trippin.

It’s no secret that guys want it and girls got it, but using sex as a reward (or withholding it as a punishment) is plain old bad sportsmanship.

Using sex as a reward sets a dangerous precedent. It places sex on the currency exchange system. Sure, it might be fun to reward a guy with sex after he does a few tedious chores around the house or after he accompanies his lady to a party that she’s not thrilled about attending. But with an agreement like that, sex has suddenly taken on a price tag. It’s pawnable. It’s tradable. It goes by the stock symbol SEX on Wall Street. By assigning it a monetary value, sex has stopped being fun, and it’s started being endurable.

Withholding sex as a punishment makes even less sense to me. It’s like running out the clock in sports. Sure, it wins the game, but no one pays to see QB kneels. Get in there. Mix it up. If you’re gonna fight, then fight. Don’t play passive-aggressive bedroom games.

Dr. Mark Schwartz, director of the Masters & Johnson Institute, offers the following commandment: “Never ’service’ your partner out of a sense of duty or guilt.” This dude’s been studying sexuality since the mid-70s. I’d say he’s a pretty reasonable authority on the subject.

Sex is not a reward or anniversary gift. You can’t schedule it or postpone it. You can’t trade it or sell it. It’s sex, for Christ’s sake. Bone already!

I’ve got a friend who is certain that she’ll meet her future husband - the man of her dreams - in a bar. She hopes to be swept off her feet by a knight in shining armor in some sleazy bar with $2 margaritas, bottomless chips and salsa, and trivia every other Saturday night.

Let’s take a step back here, just for some perspective. I go to McDonald’s with some delicious regularity. I go there expecting a nice cheeseburger, salty and quick-to-stale french fries, and a thirst-quenching soda, but I do not - under any circumstances - go to McDonald’s expecting fine dining and world-class cuisine. Similarly, if I were a woman at a bar, I wouldn’t be on the hunt for an engagement ring, I’d be on the hunt for a decent-looking dude who wanted to bone.

I think that instead of looking for husbands in bars, women should set up search parties in more reasonable locales, like rehab facilities, county jails, and chain gangs. Or maybe women would be better off cruising through pirate camps in Somalia or mule dens in Tijuana.

The bottom line is that for women who are as starved for an engagement ring as the Octomom is starved for a reality show, they should get out of seedy bars, where they’re more likely to get a roofie than a white gown and veil.

Tips for guys: Wear matching tuxedoes next time you go out to a dive bar with your boys. If anyone asks what your deal is, say you’re looking for Miss Right.

This new trend of girls throwing mustache parties, or taking pictures of themselves trying to be “funny” has gone too far. We get it. There’s so much pressure on girls these days to be pretty and keep a girly image, that it feels good to be ugly once in a while among other girls. Or maybe you’re just trying to be ironic: because we all know girls can’t grow mustaches.

Wanna know why? Because facial hair on women is not attractive. In fact, it’s gross and creepy… even though MetroMix and so many others disagree with me. So even though you’re trying to be funny, or actively defy social standards of beautiful, you’re not really doing yourself a favor by wearing a mustache. Either there’s a perfectly logical explanation to why hipster girls LOVE facial hair, or I’m just crazy because I don’t want to make out with anyone that looks like Tom Selleck with boobs.