Hang lots of mirrors around the house. It helps. 
- All the best
Wayne
Location:Erika’s pad NYC
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Confidence is of limited use since value (economical or otherwise) is found in conquering the one-off, unique situation. Confident people are often delusional in their ability to handle a new situation. They fail to understand that this show is not the same as last week's show.
Anyone who says, "Oh yeah, it's a snap. I'll just do this and this." draws a red flag from me.
I'll take courage, and a humble attitude over confidence any day. I want to partner with people who say, "I don't know if I can do this but I'm willing to take on the challenge and work hard." Those are the ones who change the world. 
- Wayne Elise
Location:W 12th St,New York,United States
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This time of year I used to walk from store to store streaming toilet paper on my shoe and feeling panicky trying to locate that perfect gift for my girlfriend so she'd give me a back scratch and let me win at Monopoly. "Babe, I have no idea why you wouldn't wear Family Guy panties. It's Lois. I can pretend to be Stewie and we can let our imaginations go from there."
I always failed the Christmas shopping test. I had Christmas Turettes "Aruguah! This holiday can stick it in its bl**ding *ss! Stupid wh*** had to f*ck G** but not really, delusional c***"! The old woman sitting next to me in the gutter outside Bloomingdales offered a hug. She was nice. She sported a beard on her chin and wore a red coat and hat. I rubbed my eyes, "Are you Santa?" She nodded.
I could anticipate my girlfriend deciding I was lame. A gift is valued not only for the object but for what the gift says about the gift-giver. I wanted my gifts to say I was sexy and thoughtful, strong and wise. Instead my gifts said I was lazy and inattentive, unorganized and possibly color-blind.
But then one morning I woke up after ten hours of sleep and felt smart. I had dreamed up an idea to win the girlfriend gift-shopping race. From then on gift shopping became a snap. Christmas Day now brings compliments on my fashion sense and I get lots of drunken eggnogy kissing action along with that one thing I can't publicly mention that I like. Ha.
This is what I do. My secret is I buy what's on the mannequin.
That's it.
I find a fashionably-dressed plaster hottie then pull over a sales girl and say to her, "Can you help me? I want that. What she/it is wearing. The whole outfit. Well minus the wig of course."
People give you respect when you know what you want.
I smile, "And if you could help me find her specific size it would be very uh.. helpful. She's a size zero, 5'9" brown hair and green eyes. She's hot. You're kinda cute too. By the way, how do you feel about threesomes?"
That last sentence is optional. 
The ensembles on the mannequins are created by professional window dressing people who attend art school and smell like glue. You can't do better better than they do. Don't try to pick out your own stuff. Don't trust your instincts. Time to stand up and follow. You aren't Alexander McQueen. See, you don't even know who that was. Just pick out the stuff on the mannequin. Then you can skip home, drink hot chocolate, dance in your underwear, compose a holiday tune.
All the best,
Wayne
Location:Nolita
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You sit on a beanbag chair at a hippie dinner party. The guest to your right is going on and on about his field of expertise.
"I've seen it all before," he says. "This is what people should do… blah blah blah…."
You need to deal with this guy before he kills the vibe you have going on with the sexy socialist girl next to you.
You could humor him with an "Amen Brother" and try to change the subject. That's what my friend Jay might do and he's cool. But I'd like to see you make a move on the socialist whilst cutting the conversational momentum of the expert. A two-pronged attack. Try poking her teasingly under the table then turn to him and say, "Napoleon failed. Bush missed the mark. Asimov was pretty sure we'd have teleportation devices by now. History is littered with the mistaken prognostications of people who embarked upon misadventure based upon past success and trends. The world does not make itself predictable. You, me, and the psychic down the street, know nothing about how someone else should do anything in the future. That's my opinion. I suppose I could be wrong, but I doubt it. Care for some tofu butter for your bread?"
That'll probably create an argument – not Zen of you. But sometimes burning Rome is fun.
Situations like this remind me of people's misguided tendency to trust the testimony of experts.
It's like those stock market pundits on TV. They bring on some guru who correctly predicted the last market drop.
"So Miss Expert, what should we do next?"
She smiles knowingly, "Buy beans. Sell weebles. Human love ends in 2015. Facebook will be replaced by the new MySpace."
Really? …..
If you stick 100,000 monkeys in a room with a Bloomberg Terminal at least one of them will make a million dollars. CNBC just sticks that one on set while 99,999 others are back at the zoo flinging poo at each other. Should we give weight to the testimony of a lucky monkey?
Anyone who pushes advice can only, at best, attest to it working for them in the past. That is all we can know. The world has evolved since they won their trophies and you're not them. Extrapolating from them to you, or from you to your Twitter followers is a dangerous proposition – to be handled like organ transplant surgery.
The past is not an indicator of the future. The future is unpredictable. Anyone who says otherwise is fooling themselves.
Listen to experts and try to learn from your experiences. But don't take either for gospel. Use your situational awareness and question authority. Be prepared to alter the shape of your peg for an ever-morphing hole. (see note below)
Don't become an expert. Your experience is tweaked to your unique life-position. With all due respect, relax, breath and get over yourself. Stop telling people what to do and start trusting them to find the capacity to solve their own problems. It's better that way, you'll see. +12 Charisma
If you absolutely must give advice, do it Ben Franklin style: temper words such as 'always' with words such as 'possibly' and phrases such as 'your mileage may vary.' And don't be so damn anthropocentric. Find fresh angles. Point out the differences in context. Your value is not in what you know but in how you assimilate and work with new data.
"Bring on the vegan cupcakes."
All the best,
Wayne
* Note: This advice may not be valid in Hawaii, Alaska, the Republic of Congo and for your situation. Consult a doctor before medicating.
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Me: “Hey Romantic Love! I’m calling you out!”
Romantic Love: “WTF??”
Me: “I feel happy in love with Erika. I respect all you’ve done for me. But I find, in general, you’re a hypocritical bastard.”
Romantic Love: “I could crush you like a gnat.”
Me: “I know.”
********
The act of loving someone is the act of appreciating them unconditionally.
We say to our lover, “I love you for you. I love your perfections and your imperfections. I chose to accept you for who you are, not who I want you to be.”
And so it goes.
Yet…
we want someone to fill our needs. We could choose to love a rock. But we don’t. Instead we seek someone who is, if not everything, than a whole lot of something for us.
Personally, skinny, art-girls make me happy. We all have something we want.
So we search and screen ‘conditionally’ for someone to love unconditionally – someone who seems to fill enough of our desires that we can safely ‘buy-in’ – generally following a formula such as: buy-in = yes if perceived value of potential lover + hassle of finding someone better * our age is > [greater than] perceived # of potential suitors * months being single + pickiness.
Then after we decide this ‘vetted’ candidate is the right one we partake to love them unconditionally.
Something stinks here. I want to give and receive uncondittional love to begin with. Maybe I’m a naive about the human condition though. I wonder what you think.
******
Me: “That’s all Mr. Love. You can go about your business.”
Romantic Love: “Yeah. Just enjoy the ride and quit thinking so hard.”
Me: “I’ll try.”
And to my readers here, all the best,
Wayne
PS. I Love all you – unconditionally.
PPS. So long as you’re cool, and you send me good wishes, and you subscribe to my RSS Feed or leave a comment below. Also it would be helpful if you enjoy sitting in a Parisian cafe drinking coffee forever while talking interpersonal philosophy, and you look good on a horse, and you’re a germaphobe – so the horse would have to be fumigated of course.
PPPS. So once we verify all that, I’ll love you unconditionally.
MUHAHAHAHA
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Here's why I like writing on paper:
* Using paper makes me sexier. I'm a computer nerd. I own everything Apple makes. But when I walk into La Colombe Coffee carrying a 'huge' pad of vellum and charcoal pencils I earn a certain type of respect that I don't get toting my iPad. People presume I'm working on something creative and important. Women find this sexy – at least the type of women I like.
* The ideas I form while drumming with my pencil are different than those I come up with staring into my laptop's screen. For some reason I corral my imagination in the virtual world and my thoughts tend to lack a 'biting edge'. I suspect this is something to do with internet information always presented in neat boxes. The computer is a good place for final editing, but can't compare creatively to paper – where I let my imagination run free. Thoughts that seem silly on the computer screen can read powerful after I write them on paper. For instance, back when I wrote my chapter for The Game, I tried writing on the computer but my idea of describing Neil's footfalls as 'approaching doom' seemed stupid illuminated back at me on the screen. It was only when I scratched the words down on paper that the idea seemed to 'pop' and become the center of the chapter. What you read now in that book is 99% how I wrote it out in my notebook.
* I'm not very good at sitting still. Hate it. The thought of siting straight up in a chair for hours at a time while trying to think creatively depresses me. But I can bend my body in multiple yoga postures while writing on a pad of paper. I'm pretty sure that Bryon and Einstein and Shakespeare spent a lot of creative time in bed or sitting on the floor or wherever. I often write lying on my side or traveling on a rocking train or standing in line for my Chinese Visa. While using paper, I can flex my body as well as my mind. I figure the best writing device is the one you can use whenever and wherever inspiration strikes.
* I can also use my pad of paper to meet people. Last summer when I couldn't continue our conversation with the cute girl who worked at Pinkberry, I used a pad of paper and a borrowed pen to write her a love note – she texted me a few hours later wondering where and when we were going to meet up. In the coffee shop I can draw a big 'Hi' and show it to someone nearby – this gets a laugh. And then I can flip the page and show them a cheesy line such as "What's a girl like you doing in a cafe like this?"
* Except maybe that unfinished game of hangman, there're no distractions on paper – just the work. No email waiting to be checked, no Facebook, no games or news or pictures of cute cats. I think that singular focus is beautiful.
* I like the sound of my pencil scratching on paper. The continuous of the sound comforts me – sort of like listening to a flowing river.
** When I was a young kid people used to say that I was artistic. It was only years later when I realized they were saying 'autistic'.
- Wayne Elise
Location:Lower East Side
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This may be the best date idea in New York. If you don't count buying something expensive at the Apple Store – there are few experiences that feel magical anymore. So when my friend Jeremy turned me on to one in Grand Central Station I was enamored. I want to share it with you.
Take your date by the hand.
Lead him or her to this gallery near the Oyster Bar & Restaurant. Notice the curved ceiling.
Have your date stand facing one corner like this and just listen.
Then you walk across and stand in the corner diagonally across from your date. By a weird trick of the acoustics you can now whisper into the corner and be heard by your date as if you were standing next to each other. You can converse intimately despite facing into opposite corners and standing fifty feet away in a noisy train station. It's magic!
I recommend saying something cheesy like, "Hi there. What're you wearing?" or reciting a Lord Byron poem.
This magical experience should create a romantic experience. Enjoy!
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You know what they used to say about Lord Byron?
That he was Mad, Bad and Dangerous to know. Not a bad reputation to culitvate yourself. Start by memorizing some prose and later maybe writing your own. Poets are sexy. Don’t forget to wear silks or a scarf.
When We Two Parted
by Lord Byron (1788 – 1824)
When we two parted
In silence and tears,
Half broken-hearted
To sever the years,
Pale grew thy cheek and cold,
Colder, thy kiss;
Truly that hour foretold
Sorrow to this.
The dew of the morning
Sunk, chill on my brow,
It felt like the warning
Of what I feel now.
Thy vows are all broken,
And light is thy fame;
I hear thy name spoken,
And share in its shame.
They name thee before me,
A knell to mine ear;
A shudder comes o’er me…
Why wert thou so dear?
They know not I knew thee,
Who knew thee too well..
Long, long shall I rue thee,
Too deeply to tell.
In secret we met
In silence I grieve
That thy heart could forget,
Thy spirit deceive.
If I should meet thee
After long years,
How should I greet thee?
With silence and tears.
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Origin of the term ‘puffy‘ or ‘puffy people‘: Erika is too nice to call some people fat. When referring to their size, she calls them ‘puffy’. For some reason I find this both funny and cute.
Here’s a picture of me when I was puffy. Notice the Pop Tart in my hand. Muhahahaha
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#1 Get someone to take your picture in front of this authentic Egyptian landmark. Found in Nevada – can you believe it?
#2 Drink coffee by the canal in the Venetian Casino Hotel so you can listen to the singing gondoliers together. But don't actually take a gondola ride. They're overpriced and will encourage your girlfriend to compare your crap singing ability with your gondolier's 'voice of an angel'. Also, punch any gondoliers you see walking the street in the vocal chords.
#3 No one gambles in Las Vegas anymore. The masses of puffy people just walk from cheap drink to cheeper drink until they scent the vague promise of T and A and follow it to an overpriced drink in some tourist trap like Tao. But you and I are cut from different cloth my friend. Get your girlfriend to play the Frogger penny slot machine – you can check out her legs. Total wagered = $2 Total winnings = $0. Total hottness = lots.
#4 Ask your girlfriend to 'walk like an Egyptian'. If she does then she's a keeper. If she doesn't then she's lame and you should find a new girlfriend. Vegas is a good place for that – if you don't mind her living far away and being puffy.
#5 Date girls from fairytales. They're more imaginative. I'm hanging here with Little Red Blue Riding Hood. Ha. I love this coat on Erika. Seems wherever we go women walk into lamp posts while gawking at her fashion. This makes me laugh. MUHAHAHAHAHA
#6 Wear a scarf indoors. This deceives the doormen and other gatekeepers into thinking you're a French Aristocrat or English Dandy – worthy of being let in past the proletariat .
#7 Buy your girlfriend a new dress and take her to see the Cirque Du Soleil show 'O' at the Bellagio. All those high-flying stunts will hopefully get her in the mood for some gymnastics of your own later.
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#8 Enjoy dinner at Pamplemousse. Just off the strip, this restaurant reeks of cool – circa 1976. The celebrity photos adorning the walls haven't been updated since then and the pink 'romantic' decor feels as dated as the eccentric old-timers working here. You'll discover subtle oddities – for instance the tables aren't lit by candles, but rather touch-lamps, and the complimentary appetizer is a bouquet of veggies in a flower basket.
But the food tastes delicious and the staff will fawn over you (often to the point of uncomfortableness) until you feel important, like Sammy or Frank.
#9 (not pictured) Take in a couples massage at Boracay Massage. The people who work there are the nicest people I've ever met – and I've met a lot of people. I award them four stars for the massage they gave Erika and me. 20 minutes away from the strip but worth the taxi ride. Note: this is NOT a happy-ending type of massage place. That's why you brought your girlfriend – duh.
#10 See the Bellagio Fountain Show It's short but runs every half hour and on the hour. Look who I found there – the lovely Little Blue Riding Hood. After the fountain show, walk her into the Bellagio shops and cash in on those romantic feelings by encouraging her to buy you some man-jewelry.
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