The dining hall. A classic pick-up spot. Nothing’s sexier than sweatpants and laxative-laced food. The problem is, it’s a prime location for misinterpretations. And sexual innuendo. But most of all, the best spot for a blossoming romance. The only problem is: guys are incapable of using their brains when speaking to a female. Observe:

Aw yeah, check out those tomatoes.


And by tomatoes, I mean boobs.


Eye contact. Boom.



Oh my god, she’s staring right at you!


Oh yeah, that worked. Ok, do something
sexy. Quick, grab that hot dog! Wait. No. That’s not right”¦


Attention: hand! Drop the weiner! I repeat:
drop! The! Weiner! Heh heh. Weiner. Penis. Ok, move past this, get over







Attention: mouth! Do NOT say anything about
tossing a salad. Sure, the joke is there. But you don’t know her. You cannot
make such a joke now. Save it. Tell Brian about it later. He’ll laugh. But
not now.


“Nice. Tossin’ some salad, huh?”




Oooh, nice tomatoes!


This is gonna be a great salad. Oh god, is
he staring at me?


Oh lord. It’s ok, just pretend you were
looking at something else near him.


Shit. I don’t think that worked.


What in God’s name is he doing to that hot
dog? Maybe he’s gay! Thank god, thank you thank you thank””


Oh, no, no, no. How did he get over here so
quickly? Is he a ninja? That’d be kinda hot, I guess”¦



Did he just say “Sup’? SO not a ninja”¦


“Um. Hi. Nothing, just making a salad.”