Nathan’s back, our resident womanizing snarkster, with some solid advice for the singletons this month. Check out this Rule of Nathan #48 and don’t miss his column next month for more of his musings.

Are we still doing this, ladies? Santa Clause and the Easter Bunny aren’t real. You quit putting teeth under your pillow for dollars. Now can we please knock it off with the Valentine’s Day?

Guys too. Can we quit playing along? Being romantic the one day a year, those greedy bastards who print messages on candy (I use this term loosely) hearts is not fooling anyone. We all know you are a thoughtless asshole the rest of the year. »READ MORE

Nathan’s back, our resident womanizing snarkster, with some solid advice for the singletons this month. Check out this Rule of Nathan #48 and don’t miss his column next month for more of his musings.

Rule of Nathan #48: Never date or try to date a stripper. By never, I mean almost never, and by stripper I mean stripper you meet at the strip club. Strippers aren’t strippers outside of work any more than Hugh Laurie is a doctor, Nathan Fillion is a space cowboy, Nickelback are musicians or Lou Diamond Phillips is Richie Valens. OK, scratch that last one. LDP is totally La Bamba. So, you know, if you meet her because she sits next to you in your law school class, go for it.

In that vein, coffee shops are the new strip clubs and baristas are the new strippers. Bear with me on this one. When your barista smiled at you and she “was totally flirting, man,” remember she has a tip jar. Her job is to be nice to you and make you coffee. I get it. My dream woman would be nice to me and make me coffee too, but remember that’s the baristas job. »READ MORE

A holiday greeting from our favorite button-pusher Nathan Simpson. Catch his monthly musings on Wednesdays as he documents the trials and tribulations of dating in the world’s most unhip suburb.

Happy Holidays to you and yours. I forgot to send out my Christmas cards again this year, so consider this as a last minute but well-intentioned substitute. If you don’t read my column you make my naughty list (not the good one I keep in my night stand) and are therefore, undeserving of my Yuletide greetings.

I’d like to share with you a holiday tradition my family has adopted for the last several years. It’s a sweet and wonderful tradition that involves reflection and reminiscing on old memories. Each year, my family gathers together in my grandma’s living room, stuffed with turkey, ham and trimmings but nibbling on Christmas sweets anyhow and they turn the discussion toward my singledom. »READ MORE

Welcome back the The Arts of the Bachelor. (You know, like Bachelor of the Arts?) Plucked from Twitter, the great equalizer, Nathan Simpson is snarky, womanizing and a bit of a button-pusher. In other words, he’s the perfect person to document the trials and tribulations of his love affair with the world’s most (un)hip suburb. Check back the second Wednesday of every month for his musings…

One week from the posting of this column, I will be turning 30. I know that this is a big deal because of that episode of Friends where Rachel turns 30 and the whole gang tries to make her feel better by recanting stories of their own 30^th birthdays. I can usually count on my Friends: Ross, Rachel, Monica, Chandler, Joey and Phoebe to make me feel better about my life. They went through everything I go through (only with more money and better hair), yet they always made it through in an amusing and that 90s kind of way. They failed me this time, but it’s not their fault. I’m probably just inconsolable. I mean, I cried when I turned 20. It really doesn’t help that KOOL 94.5 is playing the biggest songs of 1980 (the year before I was born) right now. Yeah, ON THE OLDIES STATION.

I’m not exactly where I thought I’d be at 30. Hey mom, if you’re reading this, maybe when you asked what I wanted to be when I grew up and I said “rich” you could have mentioned that usually involves a lot of work. Just a thought.

»READ MORE

Welcome back the The Arts of the Bachelor. (You know, like Bachelor of the Arts?) Plucked from Twitter, the great equalizer, Nathan Simpson is snarky, womanizing and a bit of a button-pusher. In other words, he’s the perfect person to document the trials and tribulations of his love affair with the world’s most (un)hip suburb. Check back the second Wednesday of every month for his musings…

Hey kids! Halloween is just around the corner and what kind of snarky, button-pusher would I be if I didn’t write a little something about slutty Halloween costumes? I know what you’re thinking: “Oh no, Nathan! The last thing we need is another story on the interwebz about slutty Halloween costumes!” Well don’t you worry your pretty little heads, readers. This is different. For one, unlike most writing on the topic, I fully support all the slutty fill-in-the-blanks crowding the streets on All Hallows Eve. I personally plan to go as a slutty columnist. Secondly, I have some suggestions for the one day a year trollops out there. Slutty maids, nurses, angels, devils and Rainbow Brites are overdone. Here are some fresh ideas to show some skin and trick your treats.

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As chosen by you, here are the most popular stories OF ALL TIME (aka last week). Just in case you missed it.

Introducing our latest column, The Arts of the Bachelor. (You know, like Bachelor of the Arts?) Plucked from Twitter, the great equalizer, Nathan Simpson is snarky, womanizing and a bit of a button-pusher. In other words, he’s the perfect person to document the trials and tribulations of  his love affair with the world’s most (un)hip suburb. Check back the second Wednesday of every month for his musings…

In Phoenix, the best place to start a good day drink is Switch. We call it brunch, but the menu is hit or miss, so I generally advise newcomers to eat beforehand or simply soak in the nourishment of a $3 carafe of Bloody Mary, and the 14 garnishes involved. I invited the lady I had been dating for just over a month to join myself and a few friends. Let’s call her “Scarlet A.”

Ladies, a word of advice in case we should ever date: If we are dating and I invite you to meet my friends, it’s either because I like you or I want to show you off. I can say with a high degree of certainty that it will never be because I’m trying to set you up with one of them.

»READ MORE

Introducing our latest column, The Arts of the Bachelor. (You know, like Bachelor of the Arts?) Plucked from Twitter, the great equalizer, Nathan Simpson is snarky, womanizing and a bit of a button-pusher. In other words, he’s the perfect person to document the trials and tribulations of  his love affair with the world’s most (un)hip suburb. Check back the second Wednesday of every month for his musings, but first up, his general feelings on Phoenix…

I’ve often been told that Phoenix is a city that you either love or hate. Love it, and you slowly move farther and farther to the Northwest, until you find yourself driving a golf cart through the streets of Sun City to run errands to places like The Oxygen Tank Store, or the The One Stop Mobility Scooter Repair Shop, to pass time until your kids feel guilty enough about your impending demise to bring the grandkids out for a visit. The haters generally move to San Diego, where they join in the discussions about the horrible driving habits of “Zonies” and complain about the cost of living, all the while hoping no one ever discovers that they are immigrants from the land of the dry heat.

I’ve lived in Phoenix nearly my entire life and for me, Phoenix is like the Meg Ryan to my Andy Garcia in When a Man Loves a Woman. I lover her. I love her passionately; but sometimes she isn’t so good to me and sometimes she isn’t so good to herself and that’s hard to watch.  »READ MORE