HOW TO BE THE MACK AT A HALLOWEEN PARTY

(EVEN IF YOU'RE WEARING A JEDI OUTFIT.)
For those of you who find your tighty-whiteys all bunched up when we crack on the George Lucas Empire in these fine, folded pages, let me just say "who cares." Yeah, I saw Star Wars when I was little. And yeah, I liked it. I'm not ragging on that. I'm ragging on the fact that, in a world that offers up such wondrous (and inexpensive!) pleasures as conversation and booty, there is a large tribe of you who insist on forgoing those pleasures for a good game of saber fight, in full Obi-Wan Shinobi gear, in public.
But rather than have a few cheap laughs at your expense, I thought I'd help you defenders of the universe (and anyone else who finds great difficulty in being a stone cold pimp at costume parties) get your swerve on. That's right. You might walk into the party Rick Moranis, but you'll walk out of it Rick-Fucking-James! Dig it:
Be selective about your wardrobe: I don't care how cool you think Batman is; no self-respecting man wears a leotard. Not even to a costume party. Think more along the lines of John Ritter, a la Three's Company. On any other day, wearing running shorts in public would warrant an ass-whooping. But for Halloween, pulling a Jack Tripper is permissible.
Pre-plan your small talk: Though Sonja Blade may be one of the game's more formidable fighters, few women grow weak-kneed at the mention of Mortal Kombat. They don't care about your PS2 cheat codes. And they definitely don't want to hear about the amazing robot you just assembled in your mother's basement. Save that for 20 years from now, when you're a millionaire because of that fucking robot, and I'm still writing articles for six-packs.
Know your opponent: Let's say you've managed to find yourself alone on a sofa with Catwoman. You've reached third base and opt to steal home. You're anxious to score and slide into the plate, only to find yourself with a handful of Louisville Slugger instead of fur-lined dugout. That's not a surprise. That's a personal Pearl Harbor. Avoid anyone dressed in a Crying Game costume.
Exit like a true Mista Lova-Lova: Chances are, no matter how Rico Suave your Hallow's Eve performance is, you'll still leave as single as you came. But don't let the party people know you were defeated. Let 'em think you're actually a stone-cold player. Simply escape into an adjoining room with a telephone-- cell or cordless-- and return mid-sentence, as if there's a hot, heavy-breathing honey on the other end, waiting for you to come over and rub her the right way, Johnny Gill-style. As soon as someone notices, end the "conversation" and "hang up" the phone. Whether they buy it or not, they'll still think you're a big dork. But at least they'll think you're a dork with a booty call.