Pillowbite \\'pil - O - bIt \\ vb : to sink and/or wallow in ones yearning, wanting, humiliation, defeat, or any combination of the previous, at the hands of a hot ass chick

Pillowbiting!!!!!! I know, I know. It's not really the subject over which the loyal PBR community out there will jump up and start a local forum. But I, The Continental, feel the need to address this issue down to its very core. It's not just some free- for-all of angst-ridden depression and yearning. Nay, it's a very precise, dare I say "form of art", that must meet a certain 5 rule criteria in order to achieve maximum release and compensation for the effort involved. You may now be asking yourself, "Who made him the rule maker?" and "Why the hell should I listen to him anyway?". Well, I'm not saying I'm the expert here, because that would be just plain sad. The fact of the matter is, a fellow Paper Bagger (shout outs to Preston) and myself, before our rise to internet superstardom, had quite a run of bad luck. I won't name the chicks or the places, but times were hard to say the least. It was through my experiences during that dismal period that I achieved a dogma which could only be called, "The 5 Musts of Pillowbiting." Now let me break this down for you.

Must # 1: Something must go awry with your girl. O.K., that's a no-brainer, but let me lay down some examples which I deem appropriate for the occasion:
- your girl goes lesbian, and blames you
- she leaves you for someone better looking , better in the sack, and with more money
- any of that shit that happens on Jerry Springer, or
- she decides to take a long weekend trip to the PBR headquarters (see example 2, If you know what I'm sayin'.)

Must # 2: You must have music playing. No, not some Limp Bizkit, Korn, or Papa Roach type of shit. You need something that hurts. You need something kicks you in the ass, rips out your heart, and then starts the cycle up again. I myself enjoy certain selections by Marvin Gaye, Neil Diamond, or Otis Redding . Now if I really have it bad, I'll throw in some country. It has the added effect of making me feel physically sick as well. The point is for the music to send you past your lowest point. It gets the shiz out of your system twice as fast, so you can get back to the reason we guys are here in the first place. Yes, you are correct, sir! Mackin' on the ladies!!!!!!!!!

Must # 3: You must have alcohol !!!! In all honesty, this should go without saying, so I'm going to keep this one short. There are only two reasons a guy should feel sorry for himself without the help of alcohol:
You got your dick cut off, or
Your mother just died.

End of Story.

Must # 4: You must have a friend and/or friends around. This is a two-fold "must". Depending on the shear heartache, you need them for either support, ( i.e. You'll find someone better, blah, blah, blah), or secondly, to bust your chops to no end, (i.e. How'd you screw that up? I remember nailing her, and doing all kinds of weird shit behind your back. She was one hot ass freak . Damn, man!!!! There's no way I would have fucked that up!!!!! ) Myself, I like a little of both. It helps to keep the situation flowing, which again adds to the recovery process.

Must # 5: There must be no actual biting of a pillow. You may be saying to yourself, "No shit, Mr. The Continental ", but I've actually had the misfortune of witnessing this. Not a pretty sight, not a pretty sight at all, and I'll just leave it at that. I do have to say that the only situation where this may actually be acceptable is if you were to lose an ear, finger, or other body part of endearment, in a tear-ridden, drunken haze, and a friend was sewing the thing back on. Period.

Well, I hope this gives you a little something to think about the next time a sweet honey turns you into a quivering pool of jello. Just remember that it happens. It happens to the best of us. I just ask that you trust me, and make my dogma your own. Follow these five basic "musts", and let your next pillowbiting experience be your best ever. That's a promise from The Continental.

Until Next Time......
The Continental