Archive for February 2009
11 Steps To Becoming A Domesticated Bachelor: #4. Learn To Cook
by Jonathan B. Perry
Women seem to like it when a man can cook. It takes some of the cooking responsibility off of her, if you ever get a woman who is willing to cook for you besides your mom, but it can also be useful if you’re preparing a romantic dinner for two (not for your mom). It can really be as easy as learning to cook a few favorite main dishes, some side dishes, and vegetables. Pick a few of your favorites and learn how to cook them from your mom, a cookbook, or from Martha Stewart’s evil website.
You might do well to familiarize yourself with difficult cooking terms, which are usually in a gibberish known as French, as well as measuring items, which often use the metric system you never learned. Learn to sauté, braise, or broil. Know your measuring spoons, cups, and pinches. If you’re feeling cocky, write your own recipes by making variations of other normal dishes with your own special ingredients after having experimented and deciding they‘re not poisonous. Other bachelor friends are good as tasters largely because they have nothing else to do (they‘re also expendable competition, so if they die, there is an upside). I keep reading in men’s magazines that one should know how to make an omelet (and perhaps spell it omelette) and this makes sense because if you have the basics down, you can add whichever ingredients you like (tomatoes, onions, peppers) and adjust for a guest (goat cheese, valium). Keep a fire extinguisher handy.
Not only will these cooking skills be good for romantic meals (again, not your mother), but they’ll come in handy in your bachelor life where you have no one else to cook for you, because you‘re actually a psycho-hermit. I somehow managed to burn my spaghetti noodles this week, so it’s not really looking good. Also, knowing how to cook will be useful if you ever throw a party or host a dinner for a group of friends. Chyeah. As if this would ever happen.
The secret word is metric.
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Men Without Cats
by Jonathan B. Perry
I take umbrage at the idea that there’s something ‘funny’ about single men with cats. That’s utterly preposterous. If you consider that cats are more like women and dogs are more like men, it would only make sense that dog-men cope a little too well with other ‘men’ when they should be learning to cope with women by way of cats. How is a cat like a woman? Evil. No, just kidding! Haha! You know how you reach out to pet a cat when you’re sitting at a slight distance? At some point the cat will get comfortable and maneuver to just be out of reach, though seemingly still interested in the petting ceremony. You can tell that the cat still wants to be petted or at least looks anxious to be petted, but then you think to yourself, “Does the cat really want me to work harder to come to her?” “Does she not want me to come to her?” or “Is she mocking me?” or “Should I buy her jewelry?”
When my cat was alive, I’d find myself superimposing feelings of frustration for women onto her, which was pretty useful. I could have an imaginary argument with my mom or sister-in-law and manifest it live through interaction with Callie the calico kitty. For instance, in the absence of proper mental therapy, I might perceive a rough cat meow as the nagging beseeching of my mother, whereupon I’d presume to tell the cat where she could stuff her guilt trip (just an example, mom).
This could in itself be a fantastic therapeutic device, because I’d feel the freedom to talk back without the normal consequences of human retribution (silent treatment). Not only would this make the cat a woman, but a therapist as well. Maybe a female therapist. How exciting.
(Wow. That’s a lot of cat art. I’ll totally have to write some now about sports or testicles or something masculine because the site has been suddenly overrun with cats & glamorous ladies.)
(Thanks to my brother, Jay Perry, for the ‘No Cats’ art. And for doing ‘The Safety Dance’. Do it now!)
Related Reading:
Will Your Siblings Use Up The Good Names?
Celebrity Crushes: The Girl Next Door
Celebrity Crushes: Elegant Women
Changing Your Relationship Status (On A Social-Networking Site)
Couples vs Singles: Socialization
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11 Steps to Becoming A Domesticated Bachelor: #3. Shape Up, Fatty
by Jonathan B. Perry
My dear chubby bachelor friend, imagine yourself for a moment as a thin man, perhaps even muscular, and you are jogging lithely across verdant meadows with your special womanly someone as bluebirds sing Led Zeppelin around you. Now, envision comfortably going shirtless at the pool in front of friends and strangers, unfazed by your body because of its glorious physique, except for maybe that bad yin and yang tattoo you got one smashed evening. Wouldn’t life be better?
Growing flabby and fat isn’t much of an esteem builder and the huffing and puffing can be blamed on asthma for only so long, which is a shame. I’d show before and after pictures, but of course they’d just be backwards. Being in good shape is finding that sweet spot of healthiness. You’ll be better able to engage in more physical activities in cool places with pretty girls without passing out (like that time in the Rocky Mountains), have the ability to wear select clothing that doesn‘t look hideously stretched or tent-like, gain that ever evasive self-confidence, and be more attractive to the opposite sex (perhaps at the top of the bachelor list). Oh, and you may live longer, too, which comes in handy when it‘s time to use up your retirement money.
If you avoid over-indulging in tasty friedchocolatehamburgermilkshakedogs, enjoin in some moderate exercise a few times a week, possibly doing physical activities with your invisible friends, then you may be able to cut down on the enlargement that most of us succumb to as we age, except of course for those freaks who are always rail-like and/or wraith-like and are hated by everyone else.

Dutch Gymnasts
You might consider joining a sports league or a gym. You can certainly meet women at the gym. So I hear. Though, come to think of it, that might be like meeting women when you’re having the tarter scraped off your teeth. Maybe not your best moment. I suppose that’s why there are women-only gyms.
The secret word is burrito.
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Celebrating 25 Thousand with Benny Lava!
Sometime this last weekend the Domesticated Bachelor saw his 25,000th hit/visit! In just 2 weeks this site and its proto site have been lucky enough to have tricked my 10 friends…I mean, a bunch of you turkeys into visiting a lot. Thank-you! You rock! One day, I’ll figure out the stats counter on the page to help prove it. Mucho thanks to alphainventions.com for the incredible and unexpected exposure! Instead of virtual pizza, which would be completely tasteless, though calorie-free, we’d like to celebrate with a completely random and unrelated video that’s pretty awesome. Behold the vast glory of Buffalax’s “Benny Lava”!
Presidents’ Day Special! The Bachelor President
by Jonathan B Perry
It seems, historically, that marriage has been an unspoken requirement for American presidents, except, of course, for President #15, James Buchanan (1791-1868), whose raw bachelor sex appeal helped lay the groundwork for the Civil War (maybe not bachelor-induced, but his inability to stop southern succession wasn’t helpful). Buchanan was the Democrat president right before Lincoln and is often considered by historians to be one of the worst. And of all the presidents, he was the only one who never married.
It’s not that he didn’t try to debachelorize. At about age 28 he actually fell in love with and even proposed to Ann Coleman, daughter of a wealthy iron-mill owner. Sadly, Ann’s folks didn’t think old JB was up to snuff. Shortly after Buchanan’s proposal was denied, the poor girl died under mysterious circumstances, a rumored suicide, and it seems that JB never tried again, swearing off marriage. He was even barred from the funeral. Keeping her letters always, he requested they be burned at his death. Even so, it was suspected by many, including Andrew Jackson, that Buchanan may have maintained a homosexual relationship with Alabama Senator William Rufus King, with whom he lived for 15 years. Aaron V Brown referred to the two as “Buchanan and his wife”. It’s hard to know. Times were different then, though it is interesting to note that the nieces of both men later burned the men’s letters of correspondence. Lots of letter burning. How will they burn our blogs or emails when we’re gone? Didn’t hear this stuff much in history class.
Anyway, Happy Presidents’ Day!
Related Reading:
Bachelor Profiles: Mad King Ludwig
Bachelor Profiles: Sherlock Holmes
Famous Historical Bachelors-A List
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Valentine’s Day Shame
by Jonathan B Perry
Not to go all girly on you, or anything, but I thought I’d talk for a moment about V Day in a reminiscent musing sort of way.

Shannon, Mrs. Abbott, and me at the Cinderella Ball
Wednesday, I hit a few stores (shopped, not robbed) and took a gander at the Valentine’s chocolate, as per my gluttony (chocolate, not V Day). Swarming the holiday aisles, hoards of parents with children in tow picked out Powerpuff Girls and Hanna Montana Valentines for the kids to pass out to their little friends and classmates. Of course, we all remember taking part in this ritual of elementary school, though we probably had more Batman, Transformers, GI Joe, and Smurf stuff. I also remember that we each had to give Valentines to everyone in the class if we gave them to anyone, as part of the communist gifting system that starts early in the schools, even if one of the kids was a little snot. Despite the gift equality edict, there was still a little wiggle room to show favor. You could always buy crappier cards for the kids you cared less about, then give the cooler cards to your friends, perhaps adding chocolate. If there was a special little someone you wanted to impress, you could even make your own homemade cards using construction paper, paper doilies, and glitter. This was an area in which my mother excelled in training her sons.
In her pursuit of making us properly domesticated humans, much attention was paid to teaching us certain arts and crafts that might eventually become useful in tricking future mates into liking us. Also, mom didn’t have any girls, so we’d have to do. We’d make those cards, but we’d also do weird, almost shameful things. Making sugar cookies and frosting them wasn’t bad because we’d get to eat several of them, and the Prince Charming costume for the Cinderella Ball was fine
because it looked pretty cool and the girls dug it, but the mop doll thing was very different. And this was perhaps in high school, so it was extra weird. From some evil women’s magazine, she took the idea to make dolls out of mop heads for Valentine’s Day. Ribbons, bows, paint, and a hot glue gun were required in the multi-hour contruction. I believe we each made 2 or 3 and gave them to our closer female friends and interests. Apparently the girls liked them, but I think we always felt this essence of shame in having made them and publicly owning up to having made them. Now, if we’d made model rockets together and given those to the girls, there would have been more pride involved. Of course, there might have been some Freudian subtext to it. And the therapy sessions would be different.
Oh, happy Valentine’s Day.
Related Reading:
Celebrity Crushes: The Girl Next Door
Celebrity Crushes: Is Elegance Elitist?
Sound Of Music Death Match!! Liesl v Maria
Which Is Your Type? A Pseudo-Cosmo Quiz
Family Advice: A Reversal (S0rt Of)
Changing Your Relationship Status On A Social-Networking Site
Subscribe to the Domesticated Bachelor through RSS or link to one of the buttons below! Do it!
Valentine’s Day Poll

For Valentine's Day, I'd rather:
- Have dinner at a nice restaurant (23%, 6 Votes)
- Gently gorge myself into a chocolate stupor (23%, 6 Votes)
- Have a quiet dinner at home (19%, 5 Votes)
- Whatever. Take me now, Lord. (15%, 4 Votes)
- Take a Day Trip (12%, 3 Votes)
- Pick ticks off my cat (8%, 2 Votes)
Total Voters: 26
Check back several times daily for the results!
New Domain
Welcome to the Domesticated Bachelor’s new address and domain! Glad you’re here. Have a look around. Please note the new address: www.thedomesticatedbachelor.com


















by Jonathan B. Perry






When I visit them, they’re glued to their computer screens, completely engrossed while their characters run amok, wielding their axes across verdant countrysides full of well-dressed buxom female ogres and giant mushrooms.

