My Momentary Friends

Despite how you perceive me here, I actually do have friends in the real world. Don’t laugh, I do. We all have many different kinds of friends though. We have friends from school, friends from work, and friends in our neighborhoods or apartment buildings. We also have what I like to think of as “momentary friends.” These are people who may enter our lives for only a moment every day or once a week, but in many ways are as important to us as are the friends for whom we profess love and longing. 

It could be the cashier at the supermarket you always go to because she has a nice smile and makes small talk about the weather. The security guard outside your office who holds open the door as you leave each day. Maybe it's even a Facebook friend who was never more than an acquaintance years ago, but who always clicks "Like" to your status updates. The girl at Supercuts who cuts your hair and asks about your plans for the weekend. The guy who says hello as he passes you on his nightly walk down your street. Or perhaps the blogger who updates almost daily with a heartwarming story or amusing anecdote. We all have about a hundred of these people in our lives and for me I enjoy their momentary friendship immensely. I think we all do. As much as family or friends whom we know by name, these people also provide us with a sense of security. Often, more than “real” family or friends our “momentary friends” are dependable. They’re always there for us with that smile and hello, or perhaps only a knowing nod.  Day in and day out, sometimes for years these nameless people are part of our lives and I miss them and worry about what happened to them when they don't show up in my daily routine.

The fun for me is providing them with names and stories. I like to imagine who they are outside of that moment in time when our paths cross. How and why did they come to be part of my life every day? The best part though is naming them. 

Some of the names we give these people are flattering and some are not. No matter where any of you live, I think you’ve all met my friend, “Man with bad toupee.” Then of course in every neighborhood we all know “Woman with enormous ass who’s always bending over doing yard work.”  “Girl walking dog” always seems so nice. You have no idea where she lives, but she appears around the corner every evening at the same time. One person I hate, but would somehow miss if he/she were gone is “Silver Pontiac Jerk.” (In all honesty I use a different word than 'jerk' in my head) This jerk parks his/her silver Pontiac in my street every day, completely blocking off traffic on that side of the street. As infuriating as this is to me, if they moved away I’d miss the little adrenalin rush I get as I curse them while I sit behind their parked car waiting for traffic to pass so I can get by. It’s only perhaps a 10 second inconvenience about 5 times a week, but that adds up to 50 seconds per week, 3 minutes and 20 seconds per month, or 40 minutes per year. That may not seem like much, but since I plan to live in my current house for the rest of my life, over the next 36 years Silver Pontiac Jerk will have wasted the equivalent of a full day of my life.  

I also secretly like to imagine that just perhaps, once or twice maybe my momentary friends and I have saved each others lives without even knowing it. Perhaps our 3 second interaction slowed one of us up just enough in our daily routine that we missed stepping off the curb in front of a speeding bus later in the day. So, for saving my life and brightening my days this post is dedicated to my favorite momentary friends: Supermarket cashier who likes basketball,  Indian Girl at Starbucks, Walking Man,  Girl with dog, and Security Guard. Without these people and their momentary friendship my day would be incomplete. I could probably do without Silver Pontiac Jerk though.

 

If you like my nonsense want to be my momentary friend you can follow me on Twitter @ThePhilFactor and subscribe to The Phil Factor on your Amazon Kindle. Also clicking the Facebook like button will make you my momentary friend and quite possibly save your life later in the day. 

Rock You Like a Hurricane

Well it's hurricane season in the Northern hemisphere. Hurricane Irene ran up the East coast this past weekend and I hope with every fiber of my being that some forward think musician somewhere created a parody song titled "Come On Irene," based on the 80's hit by Dexy's Midnight Runners.

Fortunately I don't live in an area that ever gets any hurricanes although I felt some of the wind and rain from Irene. In the U.S., our weather people have a tradition of naming hurricanes with people names, such as Hurricane Phil, or Hurricane Betsy. Then the news people are astounded that people refuse to leave their homes when a hurricane is coming. Who is going to be afraid of Hurricane Betsy, or Tropical Storm Cecilia? Remember innocuously named Hurricane Katrina? Yeah, how'd that work out for everyone? Have you ever noticed that when people are interviewed as a big storm is bearing down on their area the homeowners always use the phrase "hunker down"? The interview always goes like this:

Reporter: I'm standing here with Joe and Jane Homeowner who plan on staying right where they are as the biggest storm of the century bears down on us. Joe and Jane, why are you staying put?

Homeowners: Well this little storm 'taint nuthin. We'll just hunker down until it passes. Now the storm of '68, that was a storm!

I'm not sure I've ever hunkered down for anything. I think hunkering down best describes the pose my dog takes when she's going number 2.  If you want people to flee to somewhere safe you have to give  a storm a name that sounds as scary as it is. Why not give it an intimidating name? How about something like Mega Hurricane Deathtron? That might get people out of their homes. Or maybe something simple like The Hurricane of Death? If the Hurricane of Death was headed for my house you can bet I'd get the hell out of the way. Then again, if they named hurricanes like that you wouldn't have people selling post hurricane t-shirts that said things like "I Was Blown By Irene 2011." When I'm elected President, or Sexiest Man Alive, whichever comes first, I will convene a special committee of writers to work on scary, new hurricane names every year. 

If you enjoy my nonsense and still have your internet connection after the hurricane you can follow me on Twitter @ThePhilFactor and/or subscribe to The Phil Factor on your Amazon Kindle.

Facebook's Web of Evil

Across the centuries there have been men who have perpetrated unspeakable acts of evil upon their fellow man. Genghis Khan, Adolph Hitler, James Jones, and the creators of American Idol, to name a few. Since the turn of the century, however, one name has stood alone atop the modern pantheon of evil. That man? Mark Zuckerberg.

The Economy: Apparently a long time ago, like in the 1950's or something, someone wrote in the bible, "The meek shall inherit the earth."  The nerdy Zuckerberg started Facebook so he could talk to chicks and now he's got millions, maybe even billions of dollars to show for his efforts. Talk about the power of horny! Is it just me, or did anyone else notice that our nations entire economy went in the tank right about the time Facebook took off. Hmmm....let's see...about three years ago all the automakers and banks went out of business, the stockmarket went into a freefall and 50% of all homes were foreclosed upon. Coincidence? I think not! How many of you reading this, raise your hands,  even once checked your Facebook from a phone or computer in the last three years? Hmmm...one, two, three, four...stop it! Put your hands down you idiots. I can't see you through my computer. I'm not even here. I wrote this yesterday. But you get my point, since the onset of Facebook we've all wasted valuable, productive work time Facebooking and as a group all those minutes of lost productivity added up enough to destroy the economy. But wait...who got rich? That's right, Mark Zuckerberg. You know who doesn't waste work time on Facebook? The Amish, and they built me one hell of a shed. 

Our self-esteem: An endeavor that was born of low self-esteem has become the bane of everyone's insecurities. Do I have enough friends to look cool? Why does so and so have so many more friends than me? Why can't I get enough cows in Farmville? Why don't I know what Farmville is? (Guess who plays Farmville for real? The Amish!)  Why didn't my status get more likes or comments? I see the "People you may know" section and I think well if they didn't "friend" me I'm not going to "friend" them. Yeah, that's right, for every little face staring at you when you're thinking, "I barely talked to them in high school, I'm not going to "friend" them, that person is on the other side of the interweb looking at your little picture thinking the same thing. But guess who has lots of friends now that he has millions of dollars? That's right, it's evil incarnate, Mark Zuckerberg. 

That's right Mark Zuckerberg you smug little bastard, just sit up there in your ivory tower sipping mojitos with Bill Gates and counting your money. Blood money that you made off of the laziness and insecurities of every American. Well I won't stand for it. Ok, well I will stand for it until I get enough Amazon Kindle subscribers to The Phil Factor that I don't need your evil little web of insecurity and apathy and I'll start my own competing social network and when your little fantasy world comes crashing down around you, you'll know who's to blame! (insert maniacal laughter here) Remember the name Phil Mr. Zuckerberg. Remember it well.

 Hmmm...Philbook...I like the sound of that. And for just a small fee you can all join me  : )

If you enjoy my nonsense and don't want to wait for the launch of Philbook you can follow me on Twitter @ThePhilFactor and subscribe to The Phil Factor on your Amazon Kindle, just like Mark Zuckerberg does.

 

 

 

Why The Amish Are Cooler Than You

Admit it, you saw the title and had to read further. I am totally diggin' me some Amish action lately. I see straw hats, bonnets, and horse drawn buggys and I think, "Damn, break me off a piece of that!" I cannot find me a butter churn fast enough.  We all love the Amish. We find their culture and lifestyle fascinating. Here's your evidence that the Amish are hot: Last week I bought a shed from the Amish. (Notice how we always refer to them as 'The Amish'? As if they're all one group or a large object of some sort.) So after my awesome, built like a fortress, Amish shed was delivered I posted a picture of it on Facebook.  That picture of my new Amish shed generated more comments than anything I've ever said or posted on Facebook in the last four years. Either I'm a boring Facebooker or you're diggin' some Amish action too. 

So why do we all love the Amish so much? Is it their stylish black outfits? They say black is very slimming. Have you ever seen a fat Amish person? Me neither. I wonder what their gyms are like? Instead of a stairmaster maybe they have a butter churn machine. The guys work out by bench pressing 4"x4" lumber with hay bales on the ends. Do they work out in those sack dresses and the pants with suspenders? Do those come in lycra? 

Another good thing about being Amish; their budget kicks ass. Guess how much money the Amish lost in their 401K's when the economy tanked? A lot less than me, that's for sure. You think the Amish worry about how they'll pay for retirement? Do you know how much they pay for electricity? $0.00. That's pretty damn good compared with my utility bill. And guess how much they pay for gas? Yup, $0.00. Unfortunately, the gas they're most familiar is in the form of methane coming from the horse in front of them pulling their buggy. 

Rumspringa. It's the Amish word for a period of adolescence when youth are allowed to leave home for a period of time to experience the modern world and decide if they want to return to the Amish faith. Talk about an awesome hall pass! It's a wonder they get any of them back. As a parent I love the idea. I'd love to get my kids out of the house for a year or two. In fact, I want to negotiate with the Amish for a reverse rumspringa program. When my kids are being difficult I want to send them to live with the Amish for a year. Building a few barns would straighten out their attitude. 

I fear however that Amish culture as we know it may soon cease to exist and I fear that it may be my fault. I accidentally exposed the Amish to the cartoon Family Guy. The Amish are allowed to use technology for work but not in their homes. The Amish shed maker had to call me to tell me when my shed was going to be delivered and my ringback tone is a clip from Family Guy. At the end of our brief conversation Amish shed maker said, "I like your ringtone." Since then I've gotten 27 hang up calls from an unlisted number. I just hear a little oddly accented giggling before the line goes dead. I'm pretty sure it's the Amish calling just to listen to Family Guy. This can't be good.

If you enjoy my nonsense and want to have a literary rumspringa with me you can follow me on Twitter @ThePhilFactor or subscribe to The Phil Factor on your Amazon Kindle. Unless of course you're Amish. 

 

Sport or Not a Sport? That is the question

As a "guy" there are few things more enjoyable than having an afternoon free to plant yourself in the Lazy-boy and click on ESPN for a few hours of sports viewing. The average guy is about as picky about what sports he will watch as he is about what women he will date. For a guy though there are few things more disappointing than clicking on ESPN and finding something on that's not a sport. We all know what I'm talking about. I would like to propose rules for what qualifies as a sport. Anything that does not qualify under my rules should be broadcast on a different network. Maybe the Game Show Channel or The Loser Network. 

Rule #1: It's not a sport if one of the  participants has no idea they are competing. Examples: horse racing, hunting, fishing, dog racing and dog shows. These animals are just jumping through hoops to get some sort of treat at the end. Who gets the prize money and trophies? Hunting is only a sport if the animals are shooting back.

Rule #2: It's not a sport unless there's a final score everyone agrees upon. Current "sports" that should be ruled out: Gymnastics, diving, and any kind of figure skating. Special mention goes to rhythmic gymnastics which is just gymnastics for people who are afraid of heights.

Rule #3: It's not a sport if you can do it while you sit down drinking beer and smoking. That rules out poker, Scrabble, bowling and spelling bees. Technically it also eliminates NASCAR.

I'm sure those of you from Australia, Europe and other countries could probably come up with several examples of things in your country that are played as sports, but really aren't. Of course in the U.S. it's not  a sport unless it's played in our country.

If you enjoy my nonsense and want to practice the sport of Phil hunting you can follow me on Twitter @ThePhilFactor or subscribe to The Phil Factor on your Amazon Kindle.

 

I Predict A Riot

It seems that jolly, old England isn't so jolly these days. Last week, apparently triggered by the shooting of a civilian by Scotland Yard, it seems that everyone in London put down their tea and crumpets to participate in widespread rioting and looting. The English it seems are a little skittish about gunfire (see American revolution circa 1776). 

Really? Scotland Yard shot someone? I had no idea they did that. Don't you just picture Scotland Yard being a bunch of Sherlock Holmes looking guys smoking pipes and saying things like "pip pip" and "cheerio"? Apparently the people of London had no idea that Scotland Yard was into shooting people either, so the Londoners expressed their displeasure by rioting and looting, which then had to be dealt with by the London police, or constables as they're called, who generally don't carry guns. There's your problem right there. You can't name your police 'constables'. No one is going to worry about getting roughed up by a "constable." The English need to name their police something scary like Robocops or Dementors. 

Rather than dealing with the rioters the American way, by shooting them with bullets, the English police shot them with cameras and put them on the news. They were surprised by what they found. Some of the rioters were not young thugs but some very normal, previously upstanding citizens who, apparently emboldened by the anonymity of the crowds, decided to join in the fun. An 11 year old ballerina, a 43 year old organic chef, an opera house steward, an Olympic Ambassador and many women were identified in the London police's camera sweep. So essentially the London "constables" were relegated to tourist like photo taking to try to stop the rioting. 

What could possibly possess some of these people to join in rioting and looting? No matter what is going on in my neighborhood  I've never thought to myself , "On the way home from work should I stop by the pub for some bangers and mash or should I heave a brick at the nearest store window?  Did the 11 year old ballerina skip down to the playground with her friends and come home with a new 42" flat screen telly she pulled from a broken store window?

I'm not a member of the NRA or anything, but I think the English 'constables', in addition to getting a new threatening name, need to start carrying guns. Without weapons, what do the English police do when confronted with an angry mob? I'm no law enforcement expert, but I'm pretty sure that yelling "Hey! Stop that!" is not all that intimidating, especially when yelled with an English accent. If you've got ballerina rioters I'm pretty sure that if you fire off a warning shot or two they'll pirouette home to their mum pretty damn fast. Since England has by and large gone so long without armed police, I think that at the first sign of trouble if the constables climb to the top of Big Ben and just let loose a round of semi-automatic gunfire in the air most of those rioters won't think it's such a jolly good show anymore and run their blimey arses home to Hogwarts to feed their owls. (Yes, all my knowledge of English culture comes from the Harry Potter movies) Outside of Hurricane Katrina conditions, have you ever seen riots last a week in the United States? Of course not! We'd get shot by police and that would be bad. 

If you enjoy my nonsense, instead of rioting you can peacefully protest by following me on Twitter @ThePhilFactor or by subscribing to The Phil Factor on your Amazon Kindle. Also, if you can name the musical reference I used in the title you win 20 Phil bucks which can be redeemed at The Phil Factor gift shop for a t-shirt. Cheerio!

 

The Guy Code of Conduct Chapter 6: The Female Pop Quiz

In millions of every day situations men are being tested and graded as if we are still in school. The Female Pop Quiz can consist of one question, several questions, or a situation. The results of these spontaneous daily exams can make or break a young relationship, or just make your life difficult for a day, a week, or even more in a long term relationship or marriage. The trick is, if you pass the quiz you never know it and if you fail it justice is usually swift and brutal. Sometimes men are smart enough to recognize when these pop quizzes have come up and at other times we are not. It is these time where potential disaster looms. Here for the are some of the most common Female Pop Quizzes and how to answer them correctly.

1. Does this make me look fat?  This is the most common and stereotypical of the pop quiz questions and almost all men recognize it, but some still answer incorrectly. An answer of  "No baby, that doesn't make you look fat. I love your curves," seems well intentioned and some men even accentuate the statement with a playful pat on the behind. This answer is a mistake. The inevitable answer from the woman will be, "What? I have curves?!!? So you're saying I'm fat?" A safe answer would be, "Honey, nothing could ever make you look fat. You are the sexiest woman I've ever met. If anything that outfit makes you look too thin."

2. The Dinner Reaction: After a woman has cooked a wonderful meal from scratch the male impulse is to just dig in and enjoy. As men we think that the act of eating every scrap and then licking the plate clean is enough of an indication of our love of the food. That gentlemen, is absolutely the wrong assumption. This situation is a Female Pop Quiz. If you are not yet married and a woman cooks you a meal, she is essentially testing you to see how you might possibly respond to your evening dinner every night for the rest of your lives. If you want anything long term with this woman you will not just dig and  then finish with an appreciative belch. After asking if there is anything you can do to help, such as set the table, the appropriate response is to first comment on how delicious everything looks and smells. Even if it looks like roadkill. Then after your first bite fake a complete mouthgasm as if you had just eaten food blessed by the gods. Even if she just gave you three day old dry toast this is the proper response. A corollary to this rule is that if a woman has cooked not only for you, but for company, you must absolutely be the first person to compliment her cooking in front of everyone.

3. The "Comment on Other Women" pop quiz. This is always a complicated situation that requires some expert verbal maneuvering to extricate yourself from without pain. If your female companion spots another woman on television or when you're out in public and makes a comment on that woman you are immediately on the hot seat. If your gal knows and dislikes the other woman due to a personal conflict no matter how far in the distant past it is in your best interest to listen attentively to her complaint, and then agree, even if you've just realized that your gal pal is completely wrong in the situation. If the situation is on the looks or behavior of a stranger then you have a bit more leeway. If your companion comments upon another woman's looks or attire be very careful. This is a very dangerous trap. Needless to say though if it's about large, fake boobs, remember, no matter what, we all hate them right? Practice saying it in front of the mirror with a straight face at least a few times a day until you've got it down pat. Now if your girlfriend, fiance', or wife makes a negative comment about a woman, it may be in your best interest to give a fairly ambiguous answer, or even an "oh, she doesn't seem that bad," response. If you come off as too catty yourself, or too prone to degrade another woman, even in a private conversation, this will reflect badly on her perception of your respect for women.

Obviously this chapter contains more material, but if I give away all of it the delicate balance of male-female communication may be forever altered, and it might cut into the book sales. Stay tuned for Chapter 7: What To Say about Mothers.

If you enjoy my nonsense and want a happy, long term relationship with me you can follow me on Twitter @ThePhilFactor or subscribe to The Phil Factor on your Amazon Kindle.

 

Cult of Personality?

"Neon lights, a Nobel prize. The mirror speaks, the reflection lies. You don't have to follow me. Only you can set me free. I sell the things you need to be. I'm the smiling face on your t.v. I'm the cult of personality. I exploit, you still love me." ~Living Colour 1989

Cults get a bad rap. Just because of a few bad apples (I'm talking to you Mr. Jones and Mr. Koresh) the word cult has a negative connotation. Dictionary.com defines a cult as "an instance of great veneration of a person, ideal, or thing, especially as manifested by a body of admirers." Yeah, that's right,  I did some research. See? I'm not just making stuff up here. This blog is actually education. In fact if you read every post for the next 12 months I'm pretty sure you get college credit. Here's another little tidbit for you: do you know who came up with the phrase "cult of personality"? Russian dictator Nikita Krushchev in 1956. I didn't even know he was a member of Living Colour!

A lot of us have a knee jerk reaction to the word 'cult' but I maintain that regardless of the feelings that word causes, we are all members of cults. Whether it be a popular singer, t.v. show, product or Facebook, we all sign up for cults. Admittedly, my cult of choice is fantasy football. Yes, I'm one of those guys. But don't mock me, I would bet my first round draft pick that you belong to a cult too, and maybe one even dorkier than fantasy football. And that's the thing, we all see everyone else's cult for what it is, but we never see our own. And yes, there are things dorkier than fantasy football. American Idol?!!? Are you freaking kidding me?

Yes, American Idol is a cult. How many people spend more time watching and thinking about American Idol than they spend on traditional religion? I think we ought to elect our next President American Idol style. Week by week eliminations until the winner is announced on live t.v. Why not? It would get more people involved in the political process if they could participate via television and cell phone. Romney and Obama would have no shot at beating out my obvious charm. And I would look really tall standing next to Ryan Seacrest. 

How about Apple? Not the fruit, the technology company. The fruit needs a p.r. team, but the company may be the best cult going. Since the iPod was invented how many of us even consider an mp3 player made by anyone else? Seriously, what the hell is a Zune? Apple is such a good cult that I stopped in the middle of this to go download a song. (Fader by Temper Trap) Steven Jobs big calculator that he keeps on the table by his bed just went "cha-ching!" In fact, if not for iPods and iPads who would know who Steven Jobs was? (There you go Steve, I mentioned you and your products, now please send me an iTunes card)

And yes, I know fantasy football is a cult. But it's a really good one! I swear there's nothing bad about the time and money I spend on it. Sure, I'm adult and I spend more time studying for my fantasy draft every year than I did for the once in a lifetime S.A.T. or grad school entrance exams, but that's healthy right? And the results speak for themselves. League champ two of the last three years. I wonder why employers don't seem more impressed by that on my resume?

Facebook may be the biggest cult going. And have you noticed that cults whether religious or commercial seem to be started by, for lack of a better word, nerds? Whoever said, "The meek shall inherit the Earth" was obviously brilliant. He must have had a great cult.

If you enjoy my nonsense and want to join another cult you can subscribe to me on your Amazon Kindle (another cult I belong to) and follow me on Twitter @ThePhilFactor. See you at the intervention!

 

The Modern Worry Stone

Worry stones are smooth, polished gemstones usually in the shape of an oval with a thumb-sized indentation. They originated in Ancient Greece. Held between the index finger and thumb, rubbing them is believed to lessen one's worries. This action is a type of stimulation which can often create feelings of calmness and reduce stress levels.

Of course the ancient Greeks needed worry stones. They were constantly stressing about getting lost in the giant mazes and attacked by Minotaurs, or perhaps getting lured to their death on the rocks by the beautiful Sirens that sang to them on their commute to work. Then, if you were a guy, you had to constantly be on the lookout for one up the Gods coming down from Mount Olympus and trying to impregnate your girlfriend. It wasn't the Gods fault. I mean, seriously, there were only about 12 of them. That's like going to a high school with only 20 kids in your graduating class. Occasionally you're going to have to date a freshman. Or even worse, you hook up with a cougar (hot older woman) and she turns out to be your mom. Bottom line, ancient Greece was a stressful place and some crazy old crackpot with an impossibly long name that ends in "ates" decided that rubbing a stone with your thumb would relax everybody. It was the ancient version of the pet rock. I'm pretty sure it was advertised in the Parthenon by the Sham Wow guy.

I propose that we as a culture have unkowingly created our own high tech version of the worry stone. The cell phone. What decreases worries more than communication? Our cell phones are our links to the entire world by call, text, I.M., and the internet. If we have a question, somehow, some way there is an answer in that little ball of technology we hold in our hand. And don't we often just hold it, perhaps looking at it, feeling the weight of it and the smooth curves of it in our palm, reassured knowing that because of that little device we are never truly alone? Who amongst us hasn't felt lost, or naked when we discover we've left home without our little electronic security blanket?Unless of course the battery dies, you can't get a signal, or you've lost your charging cord. That's when Zeus comes down from Mount Olympus and offers to charge it for you with one of his lightning bolts in exchange for sex.

If you enjoy my nonsense feel free to subscribe to The Phil Factor on your Amazon Kindle and you can also follow me on Twitter @ThePhilFactor. Just download the Kindle and Twitter apps to your cell phone so you'll never be without me!

 

The Guy Code of Conduct: Public Restroom Etiquette

As is well known, women have the “never go to a public restroom alone” rule. Women also have several other rules devoted to their bathroom habits, but to imply that I know them would say something bad about me. I’m not sure what, but I’m pretty sure it's not good. Despite what women believe, men are not complete barbarians. There are some rules we live by when it comes time to answer the call of nature. In fact, The Guy Code of Conduct has an entire chapter devoted entirely to how, when, and where men eliminate metabolic waste. Here are some of those rules:

1. If you are intoxicated and it is after dark, it is entirely acceptable to urinate anywhere outdoors, just look out for other men who also might be out there urinating in the dark.

2. In a public restroom never use the urinal immediately next to another man if it is possible to go elsewhere, like two urinals down the row, in a stall, or in the sink. Whenever possible you must attempt to keep a three foot buffer zone between you and other urinating men. 

3. In a public restroom never use the urinal next to another man unless there is at least one of those little dividers. If there is no divider and the stalls or sinks are full, just wait your turn. 

4. If you are using a urinal immediately next to another man just stare straight ahead and do not speak. 

5. Speaking while urinating is allowed under only two circumstances: a)if two men are peeing outside and there is an appropriate buffer zone between them, or b) if two men are using urinals and there is a divider and one empty urinal between them.

6. Things you should never pee on: the fire, electric fences, other men, women, your food.  (This rule was first written by two cavemen named Ed and Thog during the Jurassic period and originally only included the reference to the fire.  Over the years through trial and error the list was expanded to include the other items.)

There is also an index in the back of The Guy Code of Conduct which includes world records involving urination, such as distance, from the greatest height, volume, off of famous landmarks etc.

As always, if you enjoy my nonsense you can follow me on Twitter @ThePhilFactor or subscribe to The Phil Factor on your Amazon Kindle. Whatever you do though, don't approach me for an autograph while I'm peeing.