These six cads are so dedicated to the craft of honey-hustlin' that they inspire us with their every utterance.

449629064- Between his fledgling acting career and making Sega Gretzky bleed like the bitch that he is, you'd think that Double-Down Trent would barely have time to bait the beautiful babes. Of course, you'd be wrong. With his quick wit and quicker rap, Trent bags more cocktail waitresses in a single weekend at the bars than the Brothers Baldwin do in a full year on the liberal-fund-raiser circuit. And don't forget the advice he imparts ever so generously to "big winner" Mikey and others: Don't call the gal until three days after you met her, etc. He's so, so…well, you know.

449629087- He's quick with the nunchucks, scores at funerals ("grief is nature's most powerful aphrodisiac"), and refuses to go down without taking his best shot (or being maced—same difference). Yes, he still lives with his mom…who, in his defense, cooks a mean meat loaf. That said, Chazz's sage mentorship has spurred any number of horn-dog sponges to greater heights of crashed-wedding bliss. Consider him the freeloading Obi-Wan to Vince Vaughn and Owen Wilson's scam-happy Luke and Leia, if you will.

449629140- What he lacks in crisp articulation, he more than makes up for in style (those suits!) and moves (he wields his belt like Star Jones wields a spork). He said it best himself during a sit-down with Bob Costas, "Bob, I'm a pone tony." As for his beloved Ireenie, how could she—or any woman of discriminating taste, really—resist Pootie's offer to sine her pitty on the runny kine?

449629110- Really, though, we could've chosen any flick in which he plays 007—except the Bond-at-72 Never Say Never Again, in which he sports a paunch and a stealth colostomy bag as his secret weapon. Bond's greatness as a lothario boils down to his confidence, whether engaging in octuple-entendre repartee with the lithe Miss Moneypenny or disarming (often literally) spy-hard gals like Honey Ryder and Pussy Galore.

449629166- We only see him bag a single gal—and that fumbling interaction lasts about as long as it takes to remove one's socks, which he doesn't bother to do. Nonetheless, the wisdom he shares with dork wad pal Mark Ratner could only have been gleaned through cold, hard experience. One problem: Rat's not smooth enough to follow Damone's counsel. Instead of playing side one of Led Zeppelin IV during a date, he goes with side two of Physical Graffiti. Rookie mistake, dude, rookie mistake.

449629187- He offers to massage the thighs of former paramours in the cafeteria. He speaks eloquently about "major-league yabbos." He seduces the roommates of kiln-explosion victims under false pretenses ("she was going to make a pot for me!"). But Otter's greatest score comes—where else?—in the produce section of the grocery store, where he debates whether vegetables are sensual or sensuous with the booze-inhaling wife of the college dean. While we (unlike Ms. Wormer) won't take him up on his offer to examine his cucumber, we will take copious notes whenever he's wooing a Wilma.