Rule 4: If yer heart's achin' over some jackass who knocked you up, Budweiser is a cure-all. It'll leave you one Bud wiser and get you in the right mood to find yer kid a new daddy.
Rule 9: There's nothin' wrong with the Bible and sure as hell ain't nothin' wrong with a sinner who finally believes. Especially if he's still up for sinnin' with you — hell, yeah! God might be politically uncorrect these days, but a man who don't believe ain't worth his Silverado.
Rule 17: Look for the Skoal ring, sisters. If he ain't got one, he's not for you. If he does, let him buy you a drink. It won't be long before he's makin' the trailer payments, too. Hell, yeah!
Rule 24: Men like a chick who drinks beer all night, plain and simple. Besides, who can swig that sweet champagne?
Rule 27: Wear yer jeans just a li'l tight, if you know what I mean. Boys come undone when they see a seam ridin' up yer ass. Hell, yeah!
Rule 33: Victoria's Secret, well their stuff's real nice, and that's why you should let yer man buy it for you. But you can buy the same damn thing at Wal-Mart half-price.
Rule 35: Keep in mind, I'm an eight-ball-shootin', double-fisted-drinkin' son of a gun, but I find guys like it real nice when you get a little crazy just because you can. Mud-boggin' topless always does the trick for me.
Rule 41: Men like redneck women, so ignore the folks who look down at you for standin' in yer own front yard with a baby on yer hip 'cause yer man spent the grocery money on a fifth of Jack and a case of Marlboro Reds, even though he damn well knows you only smoke menthols. Hell, yeah!
