Archive for November, 2010

The Wingman Cometh

Hello world. BHC here. First of all, let me say, thanks for taking a moment to read my blog, means a lot. As we are getting better acquainted it’s come to my attention that my fan base, awesome as it is, seems a little female stacked. So you might assume that I have some skills far and away from the Dungeons and Dragons character sheet, not really true. I’m basically as clueless about the female species as any other dude. But I have figured out how each of you can use me as an awesome wingman. 

I hear the gasps. “BHC,” you’re asking “How is it possible that you could be a wingman to all of us, simultaneously, it bends the laws of the space-time continuum.” Relax, my amigo, time itself is not constant, so it’s not relevant to our conversation. I have devised a plan? method? scheme? call it what you will. Using my simple system you will find yourself chatting with the woman of your dreams in no time.

“BHC,” you continue “how is this possible? Please tell me more.” Here’s how it’s gonna go down. Say you find yourself at a local establishment of drink and ale. After you’ve had a couple of cocktails and are starting to feel the need for conversation you spy a spectacular lady at the other end of the bar. Now you are stuck in a moment of awkward stares that end in quick look aways. But eventually it’s time to break that iceberg. What are you gonna say?

Walk over to the glorious vision and say “Pardon me.” Don’t ever start with “Sorry to bother/interrupt you”. You’re not trying to bother her and you had better not have interrupted someone, that’s just rude. “Pardon me” allows for a follow-up and makes you sound like you have a touch of class. At this point introduce yourself to her. “My name is ….” and offer to shake her hand. Now this test came to me while watching A Bronx Tale. If you’re not familiar with the film there is a scene where Chazz tells the kid that if a girl doesn’t reach across the car to unlock your door you gotta dump her. She’s selfish. Good rule. Most cars have auto lock now, so the handshake test works. If she doesn’t shake your hand and offer her name you gotta move on. Don’t waste time with pleasantries, just lift your head up and walk away.

For the sake of continuing let’s say she responds with her name and shakes your hand. Here’s where I come in. Ask the lass “Have you heard of Bobblehead Clay, yet?” Don’t forget the “yet”. That’s the word that grabs her attention. If she hasn’t heard of me she feels unhip. No one wants to be unhip. If she has heard of me; bring up any off your favorite topics from my questions and you’re off and running. If she hasn’t you just explain that I am a Facebook phenomenon. A bobblehead that talks about all kinds of weird topics, flirts like a Hefner, and actually does charity work. After you’ve told her that it might dawn on you that at that moment you are actually talking to a wonderful woman who only moments ago was a total stranger.

Where you go from there and how you do is up to you, I can only provide the icebreaker. The only advice I can give you is just be you. No matter what or who you are. Just be that person and you will find what you’re looking for. Or not, the world is a messed up place.

Ladies, you can do it too, just flip the script, but still just be you.

Love all.



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I wanna be a Millionaire so F*%@ing bad.

Bruno Mars is not my regular cup of Sleepy Time, but this stupid, silly song sticks out for one reason and one reason only, I understand what he’s talking about.  I understand the desire to be rich as heck.  I would never be on the cover of Forbes Magazine with Oprah and the Queen, but I could be on the cover of Tiger Beat.  Maybe there could be a love triangle between Lindsay Lohan, Britney Spears, and me, BHC.  That would be something for TMZ to talk about, wouldn’t it?  Imagine the face of Harvey Levin, standing in front of the dry erase board with a smug look on his face as Max, the long haired blonde kid holds up a photo of yours truly.  “I’ve got a bobblehead that’s such a pimp, Lindsay and Britney are fighting over him.”  Harvey’s head would explode.  And that would be good television. 

How on Earth can a bobblehead, even one with the charisma +6, get to be a millionaire?  Well that’s the question.  The answer? Beats the crap out of me.  Right now, I’m certainly happy to continue with the good vibes.  I am happy to flirt, to chat, to ask a question or two.  I am stoked that I’m getting more popular just by being the best bobblehead that I can be.  It’s a crazy world that we live in and there seemed to be a void in basic human kindness.  I’m trying to fill that emptiness with a good word, a quick compliment, a birthday wish. 

I wanna be a millionaire, that’s no lie.  But what I want more than that is to close the lid on my Patron box each night knowing that I made at least one person smile everyday.  That’s the gold in the stone.  The smiles, the love, the way that the BHC Nation is making people that would never know each other friends.  I’m loving you all, and that’s worth a million bucks. 

But if any of you happen to have a million bucks that you wanna toss at my feet, imagine the fun I would have with it.  So many motorboats to be done in so many lands.  It’s a great dream.  Until it comes true, keep on nodding, Nation.

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