Pick-up Lines for the Narcissistic-Chauvinist


-Do I come here often?

-If I was in charge of the alphabet, I’d put “U” in the kitchen and “I” on the couch watching sports

-I’m the guy your MILF warned you about

-That dress would look good in a heap on my bedroom floor…which could use a good vacuuming if you don’t mind

-Do you believe in love at first sight? Or are you blind as well as completely useless?

-If I said you had a beautiful body, would you promise not to turn into a  heifer once we start dating?

-Is that a mirror in your pocket? Because I need to check out my mutton chops

-Your daddy must have been a baker, because it’s obvious you have a weakness for carbs

-Is it hot in here or does your make-up always look that trashy?

-Are those space pants? Because your ass is the size of Uranus…you know, the “planet”

-Pleasure me if I’m wrong, but is your name “Vagina”?



  1. This reminds of the story of the narcissistic actor who says, after a 2 hour monologue about himself, ‘enough about me … what did you think about my last movies. (I find narcissists very tedious … all that talk about them, when they could could be talking about me!) :)

  2. I think all these lines (as well as the guy in the photo) appear in “Twilight.”

    Vampires would make the best narcissists if only it weren’t for that whole mirror thing.

    But anyway, I digress… let’s go see what’s happening here:


  3. Thought I’d offer up some replies……

    Do I come here often?

    Reply: Looks that way.

    If I was in charge of the alphabet, I’d put “U” in the kitchen and “I” on the couch watching sports

    Reply: My letters would be F U

    I’m the guy your MILF warned you about

    Reply: And I’m the girl your ego warned you about.

    That dress would look good in a heap on my bedroom floor…which could use a good vacuuming if you don’t mind

    Reply: That ass would look good walking out my front door.

    Do you believe in love at first sight? Or are you blind as well as completely useless?

    Reply: In this case, I pick the latter.

    If I said you had a beautiful body, would you promise not to turn into a heifer once we start dating?

    Reply: If I said you were hot, would you believe it?

    Is that a mirror in your pocket? Because I need to check out my mutton chops

    Reply: Please do, they’re making me sick.

    Your daddy must have been a baker, because it’s obvious you have a weakness for carbs.

    Reply: You daddy must have been a protologist.

    Is it hot in here or does your make-up always look that trashy?

    Reply: Yes, I feel like I’m about to vomit.

    Are those space pants? Because your ass is the size of Uranus…you know, the “planet”

    Reply: Go fly yourself there.

    Pleasure me if I’m wrong, but is your name “Vagina”?

    Reply: Only if you tell me yours is “Prick”.

    • Ha!! (x100)

      Those are beyond fantastic, Y&B!

      You definitely have a gift…which is why I think we should take your gift and start a business together.

      Think about it-with your witty comebacks and my penchant for riding on others coattails, there’s no telling where this could lead!

      Thanks for that stellar comment, Y&B,

      (ps. Although I couldn’t pick a favorite out of these brilliant comebacks even if I wanted to, I do love it whenever I hear the word “proctologist” being incorporated into everyday banter. I am truly impressed with your verbiage-skills)

    • Awesome YNB.

  4. Why do I giggle when I see that picture? I just want to go up to him and squeeze that dimpled chin…

    But then I throw up a little in my mouth and ruin the whole thing.

  5. P.S. That shirtless pic of John Denver on CLT’s blog ROCKED my world. John, you left us far to soon…

    ~your Lady

    • When you say “your Lady”…you’re still talking to John, right?

      • But of course, darling. Remember this song to his loving wife?

        “Lady, are you crying, do the tears belong to me
        Did you think our time together was all gone?
        Lady, you’ve been dreaming
        I’m as close as I can be
        And I swear to you our time has just begun”

        How that always got to me! Divorce be damned, I think he always loved me… er… I mean her.

        Definitely her..


        • I have to say that I’ve never known someone who was both funny and obsessed with JD.

          You are truly an anomoly April, and when you become a famous writer I will be the one waiting at the front of the line for your autograph. (I’ll be the one wearing the head visor because I’m sensitive to indoor light)

          Thank-you for your always stellar comments,


  6. If I frequently use 8 of those lines, do I have self esteem issues? Wait…who fu**ing cares what you think? Bow before my pursed lips and wicked awesome hair. (Uh oh…I just made babies in my pants thinking about me).

  7. An excellent post, Bschooled. Very well done.

    Back in my day a young narcissistic-chauvinist only had three opening lines to choose from when pitching woo:

    Your 17th birthday is coming and you’re running out of time and options. You need to land a husband now.

    I won first prize at the State Fair pie eating contest. Interested?

    And the very daring…

    That’s a fine Bonnet. It would look even in the backseat of my Roadster.

    All the best,


    • Don,

      You have no idea how much I covet your tales of yore.

      I only wish I was around in those days…even the narcissistic-chauvinists sounded more debonaire back then. In fact, have to be honest with you Don, I would have fallen for the second and third lines no questions (or names) asked.

      The first line makes me somewhat uncomfortable, only because that’s what my Aunt would say to me every time she called the house. But then again, maybe it just bothered me because she’s female (even though we weren’t actually blood-relations, I wasn’t yet into my experimentation phase).

      Regardless, Don, I want to thank you for your always insightful comments…it’s because of you, that I now bathe out of a bucket and wear pantaloons on casual Fridays.

      Singing your praises from here to eternity (uphill both ways),


  8. Can only say wow…your like my twisted older..I meant Younger sister…..I like the oldie but goodie…I PAID FOR AN HOUR…HAHAHAHA ZMAN Sends

  9. The best line?

    A girl is kissed by this chauvinist, she loves it and says: “Oh God!”

    and he replies: “Babe, I hate when people call me nicknames!”



    • Ha! Oh Ivan,

      I hope you aren’t as witty in your mother tongue as you are in English, because it just wouldn’t be fair to people like me.

      (when I speak Spanish, people mistake me for a Librarian who specializes in Engineering manuals)

      Always good to see you Ivan,


      ps. I’m looking forward to the day when I can actually translate your blog…I’ll bet there are some gems in there!

      • My upstairs neighbor is a chauvinist. Several nights during the week I have the displeasure of overhearing him jack-off and yelling “Carlos, Carlos, Carlos” as he cums.


        By the way, Carlos is HIS name.

  10. I have a fear that this post was all about me; I mean everything is always about me anyway, so this must be as well. But I don’t often resort to the kind of low brow pick up lines that men of lower class and less ‘curb appeal’ if you will; than I, so often do . All I usually have to do is give a look, sometimes maybe a nod of approval and the women flock to me like sad and lonely men to Russian brides. I just have a charm, a wit, a body, a other worldliness that women can just not resist.

    I apologize for my tardy response to this wonderful post. (Not that I ever need to apologize for anything mind you; I’m just so kind and loving that my perfect conscious tells me to.) Anyway, yesterday I found myself having hair issues so I couldn’t go out or be seen. Plus my internet has been down.

    I just realized that I tend to use ‘I’ quite a bit in my fabulous writings. If that is offensive I could switch it up to ‘ME??’

    • Scott, I don’t understand why this would be a fear of yours…if it wasn’t all about you then who else would it all be about?

      I appreciate the fact you aren’t into low brows, or unibrows for that matter (talk about a literal eyesore!), and I can already tell (by the way you walk the streets trolling for gypsies) that you definitely have more ‘curb appeal’ than you could shake a 3,548 stick pole at.

      With a worldliness like yours, Scott, I have no doubt in my mind that countless lonely men out there are just waiting for your nod of approval.

      ps. The next time your internet goes down, I’d appreciate an email letting me know. But then again, I guess it’s not like I deserve to appreciate anything…I mean, having a uterus and all. (your call)

  11. Dr. Rex (rhymes with sex) Morgan M.D. says:

    In celebration of your most wondrously hilarious post, I present…

    An Honest Pick Up


    A MAN approaches a WOMAN seated at a bar stool



    I saw you from across the bar, but despite my insecurities I decided to risk rejection and speak with you.

    Well, since you’re the only man who has all night, I’ll spend a couple of minutes talking to you before I decide if you’re a loser.

    You know, if I wasn’t half tanked, I wouldn’t even look at you.

    Fortunately it’s so dark in here I can’t see you.

    I’m pathetically lonely.

    So am I! Would I be here if I wasn’t?

    I can’t believe I’m trying to pick you up.

    I can’t believe I’m letting you.

    You know, it’s been so long since I’ve gotten laid, I think I’d say just about anything to get you into bed.

    Believe me, it won’t take much.

    I’d buy you a drink but I just can’t be sure it would pay off.

    One more drink and I’ll probably fuck you.

    I really wish we could just have sex in the alley, that way I don’t have to take you back to my place and deal with you in the morning.

    There’s no way you’re coming to my place. I want to have sex with you but I just don’t want you to know where I live.

    I just want to cum real fast, and then go home.

    I’m so bored…I wish I was a lesbian.

    I don’t really like women very much.

    I really hate men.

    I probably can’t even get it up.

    I wouldn’t feel you anyway, men are so insignificant.

    I’m married.

    I knew that five minutes ago, but I couldn’t care less.

    You probably want a relationship.

    You probably want me to tell you that you’re good in bed.

    God, I hate talking to you. I just want sex.

    You repulse me. I just want sex too.

    I don’t even know that I want, I just like knowing I can get it.

    I like knowing that men want me, it makes me feel important.

    I wish I had a life.

    I wish you did too, then maybe I’d be really interested in you.

    If I ever see you again, I’ll pretend I don’t know you.

    I’ll never see you again and if anyone better comes along, you’re history.

    They both laugh.

    So… Do you want to have sex?

    It’s not polite to ask…Just do it.

    They have sex on the barstool.

    Oh, yeah! Yes! Oh God, you sicken me.

    Oh, yeah! Yes! Oh God, You sicken me too.

    • Dr. Morgan,

      I have 3 things to say in response to your even more wonderfully hilarious comment:

      1. You had me at “Rhymes with Sex”

      2. Are you the guy I met at the Pig and Whistle pub

      3. If you are, don’t you agree that the part where we both laughed was pretty funny

      4. Your comic strip is the reason my Mother was finally self-diagnosed with “petit mal”. Thanks to you and your dedication to solving the medical and emotional issues suffered by patients from all simulated walks of life, she is now able to lead a relatively “normal” existence (depending on who you ask).

      (ok, four things–I tend to be an over-achiever)

      I am truly honored that you stopped by, Dr. Hex Dex Tex Rolex Rex. Say hi to the missus for me (or better yet, say it for my Mom because she doesn’t know me either).

      Hope to see you again,


      • Dr. Rex (rhymes with sex) Morgan M.D. says:

        I am indeed the man you met at the P&W.

        Speaking of which… I’m not only a respected doctor but I also starred in the CTV television series, “The Pig and Whistle.” I portrayed Drunk Irishman No. 6, who, when not vomiting, wandered about mumbling “I want a pint and a fight!” I’m told my Irish accent was very passable.

        But back to the Beddington Town Centre Pig and Whistle. We met during the Stampede. I was the charming fellow in the surgeon’s robe and mask who was covered in blood. We chatted. I handed you a note saying “Great meeting you, we should do that thing we talked about sometime.” And then, like a gap of “missing time” you were gone. Something about a can of Pringles, as I recall…

        And yes. That was pretty funny. Hah! Your “schnook of a chinook” jokes were really cutting edge. They certainly upset the Kiwanis. Those poor benighted peons.

        I am glad your mother has recovered. But please be warned that self diagnostication is not only a pompous sounding term, but can lead misdiagnosistication. Which isn’t even a word! Results can be pompously fatal. Check with your GP. Or call Mary Worth. She’ll tell you what to do – whether you like it or not.

        • O….M….G…

          It is you.

          Why didn’t you call? Or write? Or sext?

          Nevermind, none of that is important now. What is important is that you remembered that night in Beddington Town Centre. Because to be honest, although I’ve never suffered from “missing time” myself (thats my Mom’s shtick), I do suffer from a rare form of “missing exact location”. And let me tell you, it hasn’t been an easy ride for me…especially because I can never seem to remember how to get to wherever it is I am going.

          I mean sure, I’ve heard about things like GPS and OnStar, but I’m too technologically disadvanced (word?) to use the former, and the latter just seems inappropriate. I just wouldn’t feel right about pressing an emergency button and yelling “Help! I’m seven months pregnant!”, just to get an emergency vehicle dispatched over to the Liqour Barn. Besides, what would I say then? “Sorry, guys, I was taking in the parking-lot festivities and now I can’t seem to remember where it is I live…”

          I’m pretty sure that after a few times, it would get somewhat tiring for them.

          Anyway, where was I? Oh right…Kiwanis.

          Why didn’t you call? Or write? Or sext? Or show up in one of those little red Kiwani cars?

          This is all too much to take in, I need to lie down. I’ll take two aspirin and call you in the morning.

          • Dr. Rex (rhymes with sex) Morgan M.D. says:

            As a respected comic strip doctor, I can’t advice you to make the “I’m 7 months pregnant” phone call. But as an avid fan of good comedy, I do highly recommend it. We all have to do what we have to do to get from point A to point B.

            Using the 7 months pregnant line means you can also utilze your “pregnancy cravings” to your advantage and stop for pizza, or pastries, or ice cream, or Pringles, or, what the heck, more liquor.

            Also, and I know you’re having fun at the good doctor’s expense, but do remember, the little red cars belong to those drive-by-shooting bastards, the Shriners. And I think we both know what happens when someone upsets them. One minute you’re mocking them, the next you’re having an unfortunate folk dancing “accident.” They’re monsters.

            Regarding the aspirin. They now sell Aleve in Canada… We doctors call it the “Nectar of the Hangover Gods.” I like that line. I stole it from a young comedian. It’s what I do. It’s my bedside manner shtick.

            Rest well. I’ll send over a few creative prescriptions.

            As for me, I’m off to visit my bland friends, Hi and Lois.

          • You are a Doctor to be reckoned with…Doctor. And I must say that you know your Freemasons like I know the back of my hand…wait a minute, when did I get that unsightly freckle on my knuckle?

            Nevermind that, like I was saying, you are still a Doctor to be reckoned with. And when that day of reckoning finally comes, I’ll be right there with you…reckoning and whatnot.

            Looking forward to your Meds o’ Creativity, Doc. As for the nectar of the hangover Gods shtick, I am sure that whoever gave you that line would want you to have it. It’s probably the least he/she could do…after you helped saved him/her from a condition like “petit mal” and/or “missing focus”. Maybe he/she just didn’t have a firstborn to give…you know, like they did in those old-school medical programs from the 1800’s (before they had cash).

            ps. Say Hello to Lois for me. (and Hi, too)

          • Ah. Rex. Now I know where I remember you from. I caught some of your schtick over as the Beside Manor (along with a case of… something else). I recall shooting both goat’s milk and anti-masturbatorial corn flakes out of my nose during your Comedic Stylings of Young Master Rex and His Performing Dogs routine.

            Wonderful act, sir. You were light years behind your time. Who does a dog act over breakfast in this day and age? The Kiwanis and Shriners, maybe.

            By the way, tell Hi and Lois I have their idiot, behatted blond son. He was at the wrong place at the wrong time. A Jonas Brothers concert with me and my headful of PCP. He’ll be fine, but might need a cane for awhile.

            Apologies to bschooled. Feel free to jump on any commenters and/or comment threads over at my place.

          • You didn’t deflower any of the Jonas brothers, did you CLT? It is extremely important that their flowers remain firmly intact.

            Their careers depend on it.

          • Oh, the flowers are intact. Most of the rest of him is not.


          • Take 2: …over at the Bedside Manor…

          • Dr. Rex (rhymes with sex) Morgan M.D. says:

            Dr. Lion Tamer,

            Thank you for your prescription of fun.

            Yes, that was me at the Bedside Manor. Three shows a night. It was grueling. And they paid me in gruel. I was told I should appreciate the irony.

            So I did. And then I sued them. Oh, and when they weren’t looking, I gave them all lobotomies.

            Glad you enjoyed the show. Keep drinking the goat milk. It keeps the blood chunky. And chunky blood is the secret to alleviating a putrefying colon – that and a colonoscopy. But if you don’t require a colonoscopy, my medical advice is to pass. Messy business that. And do keep eating the corn flakes. They were invented by John Harvey Kellogg, who also gave us the electric blanket, peanut butter and 75 other gastrically correct foods. The man was a genius and a raving fanatic. He used to boast to me that his stools smelt like freshly baked bread.

            Moving on…

            As a comic strip doctor, all my advice must be taken with a grain of salt, a glass of water and much oxycodone. (I may be a doctor but I don’t play on one TV…I play an Irish drunk.) That said, I really think you missed an opportunity eradicating (as our friend bschool would say) that behatted blond son. The boy has all the charm of a tapeworm and a sinkhole of a mind… I know that Hi and Lois’ alcoholic neighbour “Thirsty” could have used his liver, and I would have been happy to perform the transplant operation in exchange for a skinny puppy. Or an ogre. Possibly a unicorn – as long as it was a flesh eater.

            Anyway, surgery calls. As the poet says “surgery sounds great when you’re dead.”

          • CLT,

            Dr. Rex is right. Chunky blood is the secret to alleviating a putrefying colon…well, one of the secrets, anyway.

            Thankfully there are 48 more, all listed in this limited edition manual: http://static.guim.co.uk/sys-images/Guardian/Pix/pictures/2009/2/19/1235046465965/Oddest-book-title-2009-Bo-004.jpg

            (I suggest you read it sitting down. On a curb)

            ps. Please, CLT, give Dr. Rex the behatted blonde bloke. We need to do whatever we can to keep Thirsty alive for a few more years. It would be tragic if he were to die before ever having his whistle fully whet…

          • Dr. Rex (rhymes with sex) Morgan M.D. says:

            Brooks D. Cash is actually the bastard son of Nick Cash lead singer and guitarist for 999, and drummer for Inspector Fad Gadget…

            Gadget can’t be here with us today because he is dead. So, in point of fact, he won’t be here with us for any other days. That is, unless we listen to his music. I suggest we start with Lemming Stomp. It has Lemmings and you can stomp to it. Go, go, Lemming Stomp.

            My point is… That’s my colon on that book cover!

            No, not the red, putrefying one in the centre, but the healthy glowing orange one to the right. I’d recognize it anywhere.

            And that schnook of a chinook, Brooks D. Cash stole it from me, photographed it, and placed it on the cover of his poorly spelt and horrendously ill informed little book. (Sorry for all the “ooks” but I just prescribed myself clozapine and I may have over medicated. Ooh look! Bats!)

            My point is, if you have any suggestions on “How Dr. Morgan Can Get His Colon Back” but I’d be greatly appreciative.

            On to matters of Thirsty… CLT, please do listen to bschooled. I can repair Thirsty’s liver but I need the organ of a dullard child… Oh, and the blood of a simpleton. On the blood front: Might I suggest Mr. Cussler’s boy? He’s not doing anything of worth these days, is he?

            Okay. Now I’m off to deal with Mary Worth. Apparently she not only found God but subjected him to a finger wagging treatise about the dangers of performing miracles in public. According to Mary, it makes you go blind and grow hair on your palms. I gather God didn’t take her rant well and he removed her frontal lobe. I can’t replace it, but maybe I can steal her colon while she isn’t thinking.

            Wish me luck.

          • Are you kidding me? Colon #34 was yours? I could have sworn that was Gwyneth Paltrow’s colon…especially after what she said during an interview with Detox Weekly:

            “I feel pure and happy and I don’t look like such a fatty anymore. I dropped all of the extra (2.13) pounds that I’d gained during a majorly gluttonous “I’m pregnant” phase, where I ate everything I could get my hands on….from book-ends to q-tips, you name it. Truth be told, I even gorged on the occassional cotton ball every so often! Can you believe it? It got so bad that I couldn’t even look at myself in the mirror, and my husband started spending more and more time “on the road”. But now, not only am I back to fighting weight (although hopefully I won’t ever have to fight a 12 year old), my colon is so clean that I can actually eat off of it! And I have!”.

            So you can see why I thought colon #34 belonged to Gwyneth.

            Anyway, my point is that I now realize Kiwanis don’t drive little red cars.

            Anyway, my point is that if anyone can tell Dr. Morgan How to Get his Colon Back, Stella (McCartney) can. She’s the one who designed the outfit Gwyneth wore after shedding all that poundage, and Gwyneth confided in her.

            Oh, and unfortunately, Dr. Rex, Mary Worth is right about the hairy palms….just ask George Michael.

          • I answered your latest comments in my inimitable fashion, which today includes placing it way the hell up above you in the thread.

            Touche and whatnot!

  12. If it wasn’t about me, then it couldn’t really be about anybody could it? Lowbrow is beneath me and unibrows are just gross to look at. Neither one of us should ever be subjected to such disgusting things.

    As for the lovely men, they are lovely but unfortunately I don’t happen to play baseball. Because really, pitching or catching, it’s all baseball. Not that there is anything wrong with that mind you.

    Don’t worry the next time that my internet goes down I will notify you telepathically via the special ‘better than other people’ bond that we share. And of course you are entitalled to an opinion; your uterus alone demands that you have one on just about everything. lol.

  13. Man: Would you like to dance?
    Woman: No
    Man: You misunderstood me. I said you look fat in those pants.
    Me: It happened.

    Wonderful post yet again. Had me doing a donkey-type thing at work. You know, the whole inhaling while laughing thing? Nevermind.

  14. Rex,

    My sincere apologies on the organ mixup. I was only looking for a kidney and an undamaged soul. Anyway, there was an accident down at the organ harvester and this was all I could recover. It all yours.


    Now I realize it’s not a complete colon, but since your practice has been pretty half-assed, I think it should do nicely.

    Take all the blood you want from Dirk. He cheerily said to me today as I was extracting a couple of pints and most of the frontal lobe: “I can always make more!” He’s a good kid. Always eager to please. Needs nothing but a brainstem to operate. And doesn’t mind being crushed by the 248-pt allcaps of his dad, “CLIVE FUCKING CUSSLER.”

    And bschooled, a colon you can eat off of? I’ve never heard of such a thing other than that one time in a Chuck Palahniuk novel.


  15. Those arent very nice lines to use on the ladies. Trust an old Ladies Man such as myself! LOSTL!

    Oh B!


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