Rule Number 4: If yer heart’s achin’ over some jackass who knocked you up, Budweiser is a universal cure-all. It’ll leave you one Bud wiser and get you in the right mood to find yer kid a new daddy.
Rule Number 9: There’s nothin’ wrong with the Bible and sure as hell ain’t nothin’ wrong with a sinner who finally believes. Especially if he’s still up for sinnin’ with you, hell yeah! God might be politically uncorrect these days, but a man who don’t believe ain’t worth his Silverado.
Rule Number 17: Men like a chick who drinks beer all night, plain and simple. Besides, who can swig that sweet champagne?
Rule Number 27: Wear yer jeans just a li’l tight, if you know what I mean. Boys come undone when they see a seam ridin’ up yer ass. Hell yeah!
Rule Number 35: Keep in mind, I’m an eightball-shootin’, double-fisted drinkin’ sonofagun, but I find guys like it real nice when you get a little crazy just because you can. Mud-boggin’ topless always does the trick for me. Hell yeah!
This article appears in Apr 26 – May 2, 2006.