Trick of the Trade with Trip McNeely

Sorry for the long wait McNeelbros and McNeelettes. Just got back from a 3 month motorbike excursion in the Alps. Note: Switzerland - call me.

I got off the boat yesterday and finally made my way home to a much needed shower. When I looked in the mirror, I realized something amazing: I have a beard. Consumed in a world of gasoline, whiskey, and women for a quarter of a year, I must have failed to bring a razor. Whether it was a seasons-worth of not shaving or the aforementioned elements of badassery it doesn’t matter - I am now a loose cannon in the most excellent way. This may explain the exponential increase in vag-smashing that rained down upon me as the months went on. After traveling through pre-America (the only way that I recognize the continent of Europe), I’ve seen “beards” of every type. I say “beard” because the Tripster only recognizes 2 variations of full-faced awesomeness: The Brian Wilson, and the No-tee.

The no-tee is a full beard with the goatee removed. Think Civil War-era, hard, badass American America-ness. No other explanation needed. If “America” can be used twice in describing it, then it is the right beard for you.

Now, let’s look at the world’s finest icon of manly facial hair: World Champion closer Brian Wilson. A few seasons ago, Wilson was a very good pitcher. But how many World Series rings did he have? 0. After one mere season of letting his jaw-someness rage? He’s blazing rockets on the world’s biggest stage all the way to immortal glory.

Let this be a lesson to all of you entertaining grandiose dreams of follicle greatness. Chin straps are for douchenozzles, Abe Lincolns are for Menonites, and a meticulous, intricate pattern will do nothing more than block your own cock. Be a man and let your jaw guide you to awesomeness.

Trust me. I AM Trip McNeely, and I used to be a god in this place.

There are two universal truths to summer: 1) hot girls work at pools, and 2) hot girls go to the pool. Pump your brakes brochacho - don’t head out to the pool just yet and expect to take your pick from an oiled up harem. There’s a third, lesser-known universal truth: Those girls are only interested in lifeguards. Not the best looking?  Not in the best shape? Doesn’t matter - you’re a lifeguard, GD it, and therefore you are the only guy there who stands a chance with both tanline-clad employees and patrons alike. Somewhere in the annals of history, a wise man discovered that, even though incredibly good looking and attractive, the water goddesses wouldn’t give him the time of day. So he and his bros decided to try to patrol the water in an effort to simply watch the ancient babes and, by a power bestowed upon them by an unknown god, the women came (sometimes multiple times). This secret power was passed down from generation to generation and evolved into what is known today as a lifeguard. You really think Pam Anderson would even talk to Knight Rider if he was just some dude with a talking car?

Tip Trips: Shawn Hunter Edition

So you want to be awesome, right?  If you look back to a distant time called the 90s, you can find inspiration from a 15 year old, regardless of your age.  You know why?  Because youth doesn’t have a monopoly on looking like a bad ass.  So what does this picture tell us?  1) The “Middle Part” (hereafter referred to as simply “The Shawn Hunter”) is guaranteed cool if you have any amount of flow longer than your ears.  If you try it with less than adequate flow, you’ll come off looking straight like a Minkus. 2) Leather jackets are ALWAYS cool.  I mean honestly - when was the last time anybody got laid without a leather jacket?  Exactly.  3) Brood like a mother fucker.  All of history’s greatest bad asses brood.  James Dean?  Loner.  Marlon Brando?  Outsider.  They guy who played Ryan on The OC?  Broodius Maximus.  My point?  Don’t be a dick, but don’t shy away from being rough around the edges.  Chicks dig it.

HOW TO DOMINATE THE WORKPLACE by Trip McNeely

This graph shows the Dot-com bubble of the mid-late 90s, but it might as well be a direct guide to bringing awesome to the workplace.  Many people think the dot-com boom was only good for a short time, but I’m here today to show you that it should be your handbook to sweet ass employment.  Sure, the bubble may have burst, and all of those frosted-tip Gen X’ers ended up working at your local target - but think about everything they had right.  Instead of “rules” they opted for copious amounts of coffee, Airwalks, bowling shirts, and websites that really weren’t that great.  Yup - they found a way to look cool as shit, not work that hard, and make ridinky-donkey amounts of cash (which, I can assure you, led to a lot of alternative riot grrl poohsay).  So next time you’re thinking that your job has to be some boring-ass prison with code of conduct policies, reach for some puka shells and a ska-punk CD, shotgun a redbull, and get to work at being awesome.

Jerry.  Lee.  Lewis.  Before this post gets started, I’m going to ask you all to forget for like 9 seconds that he married his 13 year old cousin.  OK, moving on.  Jerry.  Lee.  Lewis.  What a GD bro king.  You want to be like this guy if you want to be cool in any way.  Am I saying that you should pop uppers before every show for over 60 years?  No, but it sure as hell helps.  Look at this picture.  He’s playing a piano.  I know you’re thinking to yourself, “Tripster, my 7 year old sister can play that?  How is that cool?”  Well, maybe you should think about lighting it on fire and wearing cowboy boots and asking her for lessons, because it’s a scientific fact that no matter what you play, if you are in a band, you’re cool.

“You just gotta keep livin’, man.  L-I-V-I-N.”

-McConaughey.  Or Wooderson.  Whatever.

Once upon a dreary Wednesday, I sat with my main chiller Storm Durorky, waxing about life.  Upon our 29th brewski, he looked at me and said, “You know who got it right?  Cee Lo.”  Thanks to my slowed thought process, I wasn’t able to spit out, “No shit!”  My lack of basic communication skills made way for reflection: Before Cee Lo was the platinum recording artist with an unmistakable voice, he was a fat kid playing with Star Wars figurines on the eve of his 19th birthday (Source: None).  In between your shock videos and adorable kitten binges, you stumbled upon this page.  As traverse the cyberscape, perhaps you’ll put down your (certified authentic) Sterfleet phaser long enough to soak in these words: don’t be cool.  And this isn’t the after-school special “celebrate-being-different-because-you-are-unique-and-your-mom-loves-you” kind of thing either.  The .45 Tripster shoots straight: Being uncool is a long, rocky road (I know; I admit, there’s been some Lord of the Rings marathons in McNeelpad), and the harsh waves of female scorn will leave you bruised and battered.  However, eventually, the rocky shore erodes in the shape of a giant middle finger.  That middle finger is praised, purchased, and awarded supermodel bubble-baths.

The moral of the story?  If you’re going to be weird, be dedicated.

OK here’s the sitch:  You’re at a party (obviously super smashed, brother).  It’s dark.  There’s biddies everywhere.  Tip O’ the Trip is lookin’ for a little play.  Right when you lock your sights on that MiG - BOOM - you’re intercepted by some sorostitute that may or may not be hot.  The clock is ticking, and you need to make the call to make a move or not.  The truth is, The Tripster doesn’t have a formula for you.  Either leave with her and hope she’s at least a 6, or shotgun a Four Loko and wake up to find that you went home with a shape shifter like Fergie.  The simple rule is: Friends don’t let friends get Fergied.  Urging you to always travel with a wingbro, this message is brought to you by Trip McNeely.

Steve Stifler.  The Stifmeister.  Don’t think he’s a role model?  Try again.  True, the guy may have drank a protein beer, been peed on, and walked in on his mom taking his friend’s virginity, but think about it.  Does he have tons of friends?  Check.  Does he pull hot tail?  Obvi.  Kick ass parties?  You know it, bro.  Perhaps his greatest attribute, however, is his ability to provide glue to a situation.  Stifler is the mortar that holds together our second favorite teen sex comedy (behind Can’t Hardly Wait) with background noise.  Story preparedness is crucial to overcoming our obnoxious features (like, for instance, if you have the personality of Steven Stifler).  Take the locker room scene in the first American Pie: Oz is center screen singing, but the hidden gem of this scene is not Chris Klein’s vocals - it’s Stifler’s story in the background.

“So this girl - she calls me up, asks me for my number - she wants me baby - OH YEAH!”

Diamonds in the rough like this are anything but - take a cue from the Stifmeister and have a story or two on tap to prevent awkwardness.  While it may appear nonchalant, Steve knew exactly what he was doing.

Remember:  Awkwardness is the older brother of loneliness.  Don’t let second-wave virginity happen to you.

Guest post by Storm “The Tempest” Durorky