Great weekend.

My sexlife is always in one of two states - ON or OFF.  I don't remember a time where it was inbetween.  I'm either getting hit on a lot for a stretch, or I'm not getting hit on at all.

 

After five months of OFF, the switch seems to be back in the ON position.

 

This weekend a friend of mine in the Big City gave me a call.  Apparently, her friend was in town and she was on a mission - to get laid.  And said friend thought we'd be the perfect match.  Unfortunately, I had to work - but after a bit of coaxing and seeing a few pictures I made the decision to call in to work sick.

 

Smart man, I am!

 

I met up with another friend at a party at an unnamed club (because that's giving away anonymity a biiiit too much) and hung around til Friend and her girlfriend came around.  Friend's friend was wearing a stunning blue dress that covered the MOST AMAZING ASS I HAVE -EVER- SEEN.  In person, anyway.  Seriously, I asked Friend if the dress was somehow padded, because there was no way in hell a white girl could have an ass like that.

 

--  SIDESTORY --

 

Almost ended up in a fight at this club.  I sat down next a stunning brunette who I'd spoken to earlier in the night.  We were chatting quite amicably until some random douchebag stood in front of us and began cutting me off every other sentence.  After a few minutes more of chatting betwixt SB and I, friend Douchebag asks her if she wants a shot.  "Sure," she says, and begins talking to me again.  Seconds later, "Umm..  can we take it AT THE BAR?"  So she walks to the bar with him, says a few words and leaves the club in a huff.

 

Now, you may not know this about me - but I'm a really, really chill guy.  Few things push my buttons.  But one thing that DOES push my buttons is intentional disrespect.  So I walked up to DB, who was standing at the bar alone, and said "Nice pull, there, buddy."  Says he, with looks a-smug, "Yeah, ya like that?"

 

Quoth I, "No.  You're a fucking douchebag.  A rude prick.  We were having a perfectly pleasant conversation until you felt inclined to 'save' her.  Fucking douchebag." 

 

Quoth he ....  nothing.  He walked away from the bar.

 

Apparently he's a smart man as well.

 

-- END SIDESTORY --

 

Anyway, we hit up another, brand-new bar (very nice, by the way - you should check it out.  And no, I won't tell you what it was called  :-)), got far drunker, met some cool new kids and went home.

 

And that, my friends, is where, a few hours later, I would see the most amazing backside ever.  Oddly enough, she was pretty self-conscious about it the entire time - but seriously guys, it was perfect.  Look up "perfect butt" on Google images and look at the Jill Scott image.  And then imagine a better one.

 

Fortunately, I got to see it again the next morning  ;)

 

So yeah, that's it.  I had a great weekend.  Pointless, moral-free (in fact, possibly amoral) story.

 

Because, as you know, that's how I roll.

 

<3

** Edit **

I feel inclined to mention that this girl's body was a 10 - not just her ass. Breasts, hips, flat stomach... all aaaaamazing.

I just have an ass-fixation.

<3

They were right.

The aforementioned coworker came in to the bar last night and got hammered drunk.  So hammered that she was suspended for two weeks.  So she walks up to me and says (in a drunken slur), "Well, I don't work here anymore (slur...) so now we can tell everyone that we're together (slur...)."

That we're WHAT? 

Then she tells me to call her later so she can come over.  I say, "I probably won't be able to call you tonight.  Got a date with mom in the morning."  Which I did.  Lunch.

"You PROBABLY won't call me tomorrow?  Then I'll PROBABLY find someone ELSE."

This is already shaping up to be trouble, so I'm calling it quits on this girl.

Perhaps I are the craze.

I figured while I had this thought in my mind I'd paint an odd picture.

 

Imagine two large countries with completely different social and political philosophies.  Philosophies that are, in fact, at total odds with one another. 

 

Imagine these two countries coming to trade agreements - and imagine both countries prospering amazingly thanks to this trade.

 

Now consider that during this apparent peace there are still the underpinnings of philosophical rivalry.

 

Now let's imagine that one of these countries - a major exporter of toys, animal feed and other items various and sundry - is using sub-standard products to make these items.  In particular, products containing large amounts of dangerous substances.  Let's just say lead.

 

Now read this:

 

There are many different health effects associated with elevated blood lead levels. Young children under the age of six are especially vulnerable to lead's harmful health effects, because their brains and central nervous system are still being formed. For them, even very low levels of exposure can result in reduced IQ, learning disabilities, attention deficit disorders, behavioral problems, stunted growth, impaired hearing, and kidney damage. At high levels of exposure, a child may become mentally retarded, fall into a coma, and even die from lead poisoning. Within the last ten years, children have died from lead poisoning in New Hampshire and in Alabama. Lead poisoning has also been associated with juvenile delinquency and criminal behavior.

 

Think again about toys - and the age ranges these toys target.  Remember, said country exports a fair amount of toys to said country #2.

 

Then re-read the above paragraph.

 

Perhaps I'm crazy - but wouldn't it be a brilliant idea to expose your largest economic and military rival's children to things that reduce their IQ, cause learning disabilities and stunted growth?  Would that not, in the case of a war between said countries, be quite an advantage?

 

Paranoia, self-destroya, no doubt.

They say it's a bad idea to sleep with a coworker.

We'll find out in a few days.

I did something bad today

I can't tell you what it is.  It's that bad.  Not murder - nor anything else illegal.  But bad enough.

I post this because, if ever you were given to the impression that I was a morally flawless person, I want to ensure you all realize I am not.  Further, I post this because one day I hope to read this blog in its entirety and realize that - hey, I'm not a perfect person.

Memories and all, y'know?

Bar Flirting

Is a bit different than flirting anywhere else. Having now been on both sides of the floor, I feel I can safely say it's a lot easier to flirt on the alcohol side. But it's a different kind of flirting. Much more.. temporary.

For instance:

I took a few trips from our cooler to my bar (on the other side of the building - this bar is a big, big place) and noticed a girl staring at me just on the edge of the dance floor every time I walked by. I took a look and *bam* - this girl is exactly my type. "Shorty right there was a 10." So, to make sure I wasn't imagining, I made a few "extra" trips for beer I didn't really need and sure enough, every time I walked by she'd stare - so I started staring back and smiling and winking and blah blah blah. Anyways, I introduced myself, and Christ if she wasn't just about the cutest thing I'd ever seen. She got really giddy and smiley, you know? So naturally I thought I was in. Well, we chatted a bit and I walked off, back to work - and for the rest of the night we played this staring and across-the-bar flirting game.

Next day, she shows up again. I walk up to her later in the night to talk to her - and she acts like none of that had ever happened. And then I met her boyfriend.

Go figure, eh?

Missing Word

Back in the day when I was a wee, impressionable lad I realized something very important about what women were ACTUALLY saying during discussions.

 

See, I used to have this girlfriend - H.  And she and I used to have discussions, because that's apparently what happens in relationships between the drinking and sex.  Discussions.  These were, I'll note, of the text variety.

 

These textscussions would usually begin with me asking, "Whatcha doin'?" or some variation thereof.  Nothing special - easy to answer.  The perfect opening, as Kasparov might say.  Or he mightn't.

 

Anyway, I could always tell what sort of mood this girl was in by how she responded.  If she was in a good mood she'd give me a long involved answer - "gettin my nails did, you?" or somesuch thing. 

 

By now you've begun to imagine H as a bootylicious, buxom and crazy african american female.  Well, she was DEFINITELY bootylicious (I'm an ass guy) - but she was white.  I say "was" because I haven't spoken to her in years and I fully allow for the possibility of a sex and or skin-color change.

 

But anyway.  When she was in a BAD mood, she'd respond normally, but would FORGET one word. 

 

That bitch would forget to say ", you?"  Can you believe that?  She'd leave out the one word that implied she gave a shit about what I was doing.  It also made it very difficult to continue the conversation because, well, she hadn't asked what I was doing and since the entire conversation was based on "doing" the conversation essentially came to a screeching halt.  The next text from me would be somewhat awkward, like putting a round purple peg in to the square orange hole or putting both legs through one pantleg.

 

In other words, the whore was +1 on me every time. 

 

I guess the entire point of this post is this - I recently began using this method in my text conversations with women.  And let me tell you - I'm quite the fucking brain ninja.  It puts across the whole "i don't really care about you that much but I guess I'll talk to you if you have nothing better to do" vibe that - let's be totally honest - women love.

 

Because, in the early stages of relationships, women don't want guys to care.  At all.  The less the better.

 

Ah - another text incoming.  Better believe I won't use the word "you" in it anywhere.

 

Brilliant.

 

What the hell happened?

You mean you don't know?  Neither do I.  I just got back from Austin at 8 my time.  I don't remember anything from 2 am to now.  I just remember "waking up" (while driving) only to find my face and my fists covered in blood.

Doubleyoutee-eff?

Also - this bartender in A-town.  I have to have her in my life.  Man.  So hot.

I love the big city  ;)

To the people of MySpace

Hopeless Romantic - Haven't seen you in years.  Per your request I have viewed your updated profile and pictures.  You ask me what I think?  I think you're an idiot and am now reminded of why we haven't spoken in so long.  Deleted.

 

I Hope She Knows - If she has MySpace she does.  You big girly man.  Next time I see you I'm gonna punch some masculinity in to your face.

 

To the guy that always posts the most pitiful status messages and moods in plain sight and wonders why he never, ever gets women.  Dude.  Stop posting that shit.  Pitiful doesn't work.

 

Thank you kind neighbors - and God Bless.

 

 

Wow, really?

So I have this friend - one of my closest buddies in the world.  This guy cock blocks me on a regular basis just because he's him.  Seriously - I usually have no problem with women, but when this dude is around EVERY girl wants to talk to him.  Plus he's better than me at golf and at some video games.

So why is it that he kicked me out of his house because I'm better than him at Call of Duty 4?

This guy hates to fucking lose. 

Wonder what's going to come of this dumb shit tomorrow.