The weak economy is making it increasingly difficult for bachelors to pick up chicks out in the ritzy eastern enclaves of Long Island. Most bankers these days are probably loathe to drop $27 on an inhibitions-lowering vodka soda, to say nothing of the fact that they've all had to give up their million-dollar summer-lovin' estates because of the sub-prime mortgage crisis. What's a baller on a budget to do? The New York Post clues us in on one increasingly popular tactic: straight-up lying about being rich!

According to the paper, "penniless playboys or maybe former Goldman Sachs traders are combing through the trash cans at bank ATMs looking for receipts with big account balances." Once a con-man procures a receipt from an account with a suitably un-embarassing amount of money in it, he writes his phone numbers on the back to slip to girls at clubs. Presumably, the girl turns over the receipt when she gets home, sees that her suitor is loaded, and immediately finds herself compelled to call him up for conjugal relations. Or, you know, she meets him again, realizes he's full of shit when his Amex is declined at dinner, and then never speaks to him again.

We'd suggest that these guys attend Paul Janka's "Rock Solid Game" dating seminar instead, but then we remembered it costs $1,485. No way that's in the budget.