Step 1: Be belligerently drunk. (But in your defense, dude, everyone at that party was pretty wasted. Except I wasn't. So, you'll have that.)
Step 2: Be so drunk that you inadvertently spit on me every time you open your mouth. (To the point that I am wiping my face. Did you happen to notice that?)
Step 3: Upon deciding that you are too drunk and/or spitty to continue talking to, follow me as I walk away. When I respond to your tap on my shoulder, stare at me like a deer caught in headlights. (Then lose your balance and try to catch yourself on the table next to you. Which, unfortunately, happens to spin like a lazy Susan. Ooops.)
Step 4: Whisper (or what you think is a whisper) to your friend as I'm walking away, "Hey, dude, I'm just trying to get a BJ here."
Aaaaaand, there you have it, guys. Four easy steps to ensure I will not give you my number. Or a BJ.
P.S. Does anyone else now have this song stuck in their heads? (And I'm not mad at it. Are you?)