Yo Vinnie,
Let me set the scenario: two hot bitches, both were dumped by husband/boyfriend on Friday, three days later I am out with them both. The evening seems to be cruising along comfortably to some sort of Summer Lovers shit. I go to move the car. Four minutes later when I return? They're both crying. Not sobbing but talking about counseling and shit like that. If four martinis and two bottles of wine is not enough to get two 115 sluts in bed, what the fuck am I missing? -- Blew Getting Boned (by email)

UH OH. THE ONE ON THE LEFT, NATURALLY THE BETTER LOOKING ONE, WITHOUT TIMELY INTERVENTION IS GOING FOR AN EARLY EXIT MINUS YOUR LOAD. THE SKULLGAME PRO PLAYERS HANDBOOK...TO THE GODDAMNED RESCUE.

Dear GOD HATES U: Dealing with drunk women is a whole nuther chapter in and of itself and the science of titration, the technology of tippling, especially as it connects to loadology is pure Pro Players Handbook shit. Witness: Duke University Lacross players. College boys are forever trying to drink their way to The Pussy when it's well known that giving a broad a next day excuse to say she didn't want a pipe up her pole hole paves the road to the pen.

Here's a footnote [write it on the back of your hand]: after the third drink she has no intention of fucking you. Well, at least.

Unless she's a total slut.

And even that's not guarantee. Nope. You see, after the third drink she's drinking to get drunk and then we move off of The Pussy Playbook and move into The Dealing with Drunks directional manual, which states: when a drunk starts TALKING instead of going WOOO HOOOO, tears can't be far behind and as JUDGE ROY BEAN said these broads had this on their day planner from the MOMENT their husbands/boyfriends unburdened them onto your fucking unfucked lap.

What did you do wrong? Easy: DON'T DRINK IN PUBLIC with broads you want to bone. Drink where you want to bone them and move to boning at the first clarion cry of WOOO HOOOO and not after the sobbing's started. You save on money, parking, and if you go down in flames you throw them out, jerk off and go to sleep. OR if you're me: jerk off on their skirts while they cry and fall asleep while they let themselves the fuck out of your plush penthouse digs.

Yeah. That's the fucking ticket.