Photo courtesy of Jon Pitts-Wiley

Today is Monday, March 22nd. Outside of being my brother's birthday—waddup Ric!—it is the second day of my marriage. If you're reading this right now, you are perusing the writing of a man who has a wife. Being the writer and man of genius that I am however, rather than look toward the future, I'm going to take you hurtling back in time, a time. (OK, I can't actually promise that I'll be taking you back in time. In fact, the reason you'll be time traveling is because my editors at BOO run a tight ship. I'm sorry I destroyed the dream. I hope you'll find it in my heart to suspend disbelief for a bit and ride with me.)

This is my final Book of Odds submission as a man about town turned fiancé and dad-to-be. As I turn this in, there are still 2123819203819203819203 things left to do before 'I do' and yet I feel calm enough to chuckle fondly at the life I leave behind for the other buckaroos. It is one that I no longer ask because I don't scrimmage, but as I look back on what is increasingly becoming another life, I couldn't leave without droppin' a few jewels. And frankly, the topic amuses me.

So, below is a musing on the game from a retiree. Wrap it up and prosper.

Can I Holler?

Hollering. For my money, it is the single greatest American pastime as the days get longer and the skirts do not. What is it about a honey dip with her toes properly out? While the summer months are not known for respectful nobility—that's what winter's for—merely chalking the desire to holler up to the desire to bump uglies misses the larger point. Dudes holler in the various ways they do—from the charming to the outlandish—because a successful hollering expedition is a testament to their G. In fact, hollering is fairly masturbatory in nature: When a dude pulls his slab up on the curb in front of a young woman, he's doing it for his own satisfaction. It's a game of attainment. Hollering is what fellas do when baseball cards lose their interest.

Hollering is a full-contact sport which requires courage and creativity—the latter of which is somewhat ironic considering, in this aspect of life, most guys are entirely derivative and lack a good deal of creativity.

Ladies, you know how you'll be in the streets and see, or worse, be the recipient of some outlandish holler attempt? I imagine you ask yourselves "Why in the hell did this fool think that would work?" There are three explanations for this. Firstly, all Hollerers and Hollerers-in-Training know that the wear-down is a tried and true method for success. With the right amount of pressure and time, a man feels he has a good enough chance to come up with a diamond. Many of us owe our very existence to the wear-down. Secondly, the "can I holler" tack is taken by some, particularly the young scraps in game, who just don't know better and are like the raptors in Jurassic Park. They're testing the electrified fence to see what will work. Brace yourselves because I'm about to reveal the third reason—which is closely linked to the first—that you will get "Can I hollered" all the way down the block. Some of your sisters-in-arms respond to that. This is an incontrovertible fact. How do I know this? Because, being male, I'm well-acquainted with the fact that most guys are entirely derivative and lack a good deal of creativity when it comes to hollering. Want further proof? I'll break down the Four Points of Holleration that guys subscribe to based on degree of difficulty and chances of success. Of course, every hollerer who thinks they've earned their stripes have their own techniques which they swear by (and fail with more than they're willing to admit). These four are merely a sampler for research purposes.

THE DIGITAL HOLLER

Before Twitter, or texting or Facebook, there was AIM Instant Messenger. From there, holleration can occur with near-impunity. Unlike a face-to-face or a phone call that might get interrupted by someone's parent picking up the line, AIM allowed for the Hollerer's G to be thought out and edited if necessary. If things go smoothly, the Hollerer can use that momentum to propel them to greatness. If the Holleree is less-than-responsive, the Hollerer can dismiss the conversation as just playing around or, should the situation look entirely bleak, claim a friend was messing around under their screen name.

THE CASH REGISTER

The Hollerer is ostensibly shopping and can easily create an interaction with the female in question. Though the table is pretty well set, this approach, unlike the Digital Holler, does require that the Hollerer have decent face-to-face verbal game. Also, The busier the place of business, the higher the degree of difficulty. A perfectly good holler can be ruined if the Holleree only views the Hollerer as a knucklehead keeping her from her job. The time one is afforded in a low-key Foot Locker is far greater than that found in a popular Starbucks and holleration must be planned accordingly. I find it's best to leave your number because it smacks of confidence without looking like a creeper (and to prove my above point again, I lifted this move from Office Space).

HOSTING HOLLER

My personal favorite. Rather than fight through the ring of death (read: woman dancing in a circle at a club) level the playing field and throw the party. The dynamic can be controlled much more and, in my experience, women are less apt to be stank to the hosts of the party. It's important to note that being a host does not give a hollerer license to be a creeper (not even if you have a decorative cane that you deftly twirl about). In fact, if you or your buddies think that, you're likely to get many side eyes and few Hollerees.

THE 'AY, GIRL, AY!' HOLLER

This is the Iron Lotus [http://bit.ly/mkIhL] of hollering. The Hollerer has assumed all risk and is truly smelling his piss that day. A bold initiative; the 'Ay, Girl, Ay!' is only employed by the thoroughly experienced or the criminally insane. The failure rate? Exceptional. The feeling of triumph when the near-impossible happens? That is a glory only the likes of Sir Edmund Hillary and Indiana Jones understand.

To the Hollerers in search of honey dips with their toe game proper: I salute you. To the Hollerees preparing to navigate the quagmire of dudes licking their lips in hungry pursuit: Sorry?

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