Leo
Let’s get one thing out of the way real fast. Regret is a waste of time. I don’t believe in it—never have, never will. I try to live my life without that useless emotion.
You know those articles where the journalist asks old people what they would have done differently, and they list all sorts of stuff—be a better friend, call your mom, tell the woman you love her? You don’t want to be that person.
There’s a simple way to avoid it.
Do the good shit now.
Say yes to that crazy job offer, ask out the girl who’s out of your league, climb the mountain and kiss the sky.
You’ll thank yourself later.
But the flip side of that kind of life is this: you need some rules. A few basic guidelines to follow to navigate the potholes.
Over the years I’ve assembled my top picks. Some from experience, some from listening to others.
Allow me to share my hard-won wisdom.
1. If you have to sniff the food in your fridge to decide if you can eat it, just toss it. You’ll be glad you did tomorrow.
2. You can tell everything you need to know about a person by how he or she treats the waiter.
3. Turn down that last tequila shot. Trust me on this one.
4. If your woman sends you to the store to pick up something, get that something, not another version you think is better. Her version is always the right one.
5. You can’t put your foot in your mouth if it’s closed.
6. No dude ever gets in trouble while cleaning the kitchen.
7. Don’t live to work; work to live.
8. If you tell the truth, you don’t have to remember anything.
9. Don’t get a tattoo that’s longer than your dick.
10. Men should never wear black jeans.
That’s my list and I’m sticking to it. Those mantras have served me well. They’ve made me the man I am today—successful, wise, and satisfied.
There’s one more though. An addendum, if you will. The postscript you need to achieve a life well-lived. This ought to be so damn easy that no one makes this mistake.
Gather close.
Write it down.
Follow this one to the motherfucking letter.
No matter what, don’t fall in love with your best friend’s girl.
Too bad that ship sailed long ago for me.
1LEO
Real men like chocolate. And they aren’t afraid to show it.
I have no shame over my love for this substance. I love it when it’s dark, when it’s bitter, when it’s semisweet. I love it slathered on ice cream; crafted into truffles, bars, and squares; or filled with nuts, fruit, or liqueur.
But there’s one form I can’t stand.
Chocolate fountains.
We’re talking the hardest of hard limits, especially here at The Big Chocolate Show in the heart of Manhattan.
As I head down the aisle in hot pursuit of the next rising star, I’m transfixed by a guy in the booth a few feet ahead. He has a bushy beard and gnarly hands, and he swipes his index finger through the chocolate stream in front of him.
Then licks said finger.
He wipes the chocolate drops from his beard.
And proceeds to lick that off his fingers too.
Shuddering, I jerk my gaze away from the Finger-Licking Good booth. This is worse than going to see the latest Ed Helms F-bomb laden comedy and getting hit with a preview for a “snowman came to life and eviscerated me with an icicle” flick. I don’t want horror trailers before my adult comedies, nor do I want to see cesspools of chocolate when I’m hunting for the next great chocolatier.
I adjust my cranberry-colored tie and turn into the Heavenly booth, admiring the classy layout, from the simple oak tables to the stone bowls the chocolates lounge in invitingly with silver tongs beside them.
Yes, tongs. Because chocolates should be distributed in public by tongs, not fingers.
