Don’t expect to read Ben Tanzer’s book, Lucky Man, if you’re looking to get lucky. I bought this book with the sole intention and hope that it would get me into bed with some curious girl with trendy haircut, indie style, and maybe even a penchant for the words of Knut Hamsun. Now, don’t mistake me for some literary renowned person. I have never read the works of Mr. Hamsun myself, but if I met a girl who said they enjoyed his tales then I figure I could grow to love them. It would probably be the right thing to do.

But after two weeks of sitting in bar after bar pretending to read Mr. Tanzer’s Lucky Man there were no new acquaintances made.

In fact, I would argue that Mr. Tanzer scared a few curious girls off. I bet if I hadn’t been pretending to read his book at all and instead just lay on one of the barroom tables with no shoes and one arm poking through my neck hole rather than the correct arm sleeve then more curious women would have approached me.

In closing, Mr. Tanzer your book is a horrible substitute for cologne. As they* say, “If you were a monkey and had the choice between eating leaded paperweight bananas and eating [Ben Tanzer’s] book then you better go get yourself a metal banana peeler.”

*I’m not exactly sure who ‘they’ are. Sorry for the unassociated pronoun. Maybe I should have just said, ‘we’ as in, we at everydayyeah.com. It would make more sense even though we don’t really sit around the office** saying such things, but I guess if there was an office that said such things then it would probably be ours.

**We don’t have an office.