Huddle up, do what I say, then get the fuck out there.

Hey dudebros, G.I. Bro here. Listen up and keep your heads on a swivel. Tomorrow is Valentine's Day, my favorite day of the year. Why? I'll tell you why: with the exception of a fat girl's wedding, never does a single girl feel her body's disgusting biological parade towards sexless middle-age quite so much than on Valentine's Day. And what does that mean for a dudeman brohan?

BONEFEST 2010. I'm talking serious D's in V's, D's on T's, C's in A's, J's in E's, and P's on C's. I mean, I'm almost positive that I will blow my load as soon as I wake up based solely on the smell of self-loathing and desperation in the air. But how to ensure that your Valentine's Lay is suckcess? Eyes on me broners. I'm going to share with you, right now, the holy grail of getting it on: my exact play-by-play from Muffday '09, straight from my autobiography's manuscript. I like to teach by example. You're welcome.

Compiled from "G.I. Bro: You're Fucking a Legend part XXII"

10:00 am: Woke up to the sound of knocking on my door. Opened it to find my neighbor Alice complaining of loud sounds last night. Said it sounded like "a rooster being strangled." Answered there are no cocks in here, just HUGE DICKS. Porked her.

10:46 am: Showered, put on lucky "fuckmonster" boxers. Went to eat breakfast but no orange juice, left for store.

11:13 am: Asked cashier if she knew where I could get some O.J. She said aisle 2. Asked her if she knew where I could get some B.J.. Boned on crate of chex mix.

12:02 pm: Drank my orange juice (hydration is key), invited Vanessa for lunch. Walked to meet her in the square. Ran into girl selling roses. Flexed.

12:39 pm: Called Vanessa, apologized for being late.

1:05 pm: Met Vanessa.

1:06 pm: Pork Sandwich.

1:48 pm: Ordered meatball sub. Complimented waitress on her ability to balance so many hot meats in her hand. Asked her if she'd ever played find the sausage.

2:37 pm: Complimented waitress on her ability to find the sausage.

3:23 pm: Went over to local high school. Asked receptionist where the workshop for "recently widowed fathers looking to date" was. Mentioned fear of physical intimacy. Bonersauraus Rex.

4:03 pm: Delivered Valentines to numerous female acquaintances. Described each as "inspirational." Subsequently invited into 4/5 rooms where generous fucking was applied.

6:52 pm: Returned to remaining room with DVD of "When Harry Met Sally." Exacted retribution for her initial hesitation by lying about intention of money shot.

7:28 pm: $$$

8:05 pm: Ate a powerbar. Congratulated self, by sending Dinodude choice nudes pics.

8:36 pm: Sat down for reservation at "Teresa's Tables" with large box of chocolates. Pretended to be stood up. Asked hostess if she ever thought I would "trust again." Wheelbarrow-styled in bathroom.

10:03 pm: Ran into girl selling roses again at a bar. Told her the hilarious pun I made up about "rose beds." Flirted with anal play.

11:20 pm: Acoustic set with Bromeo and Disco Pony at Milkwood's. Debuted "Erotic Time-Bomb."

12:05 am-1:30 am: Groupies.

2:22 am: Impersonated Ewan McGregor with drunk hoodrat. Asked me to sing a song from "Moulin Rouge." Cum what may.

3:07 am: Found Alice in my room. Kicked her out. Went to sleep as the fucking man.

Happy Humping. G.I. Bro out.