mating on top of the tunnel
March 29, 2008
i had seen it. i had walked by it. i had heard about it. why it took me so long to embrace all of the loveliness that is the tunnel top is anyone’s guess. yes, with its unassuming exterior and location describing name (it’s on top of the stockton tunnel after all,) i have taken to the tunnel top as a pig takes to slop, a prostitute to penicillin, or my shoe to homeless people turds (yes, i step in at-least one a day…)
they have chimay. they have djs who spin kick-ass tunes. they have tons of horny babes. niiice.
that pretty much covers all the bases. well, except that the bartenders also take turns sucking on a large, cylindrically shaped object which emits semen. yes, three out of the four with whom i’ve come in contact are rude and make lackluster drinks. this is why god invented beer. also, i think a prerequisite for being a bartender should be that you aren’t a dickhead. you know, that whole customer service thing…
but hey, you can’t always have everything and when you’re having hot chicks rub their shanaynays on you on the upstairs dance floor you won’t be thinking about the bartender, or at-least you shouldn’t be. i feel like a rock star every time i go there.
the wool-pull factor, at-least on the weekend, currently ranks as an ‘8.’ i’ve been during the week and the guy/girl ratio can be a little daunting, like most places on a weekday. friday and saturday though…watch out.
it’s just like training a monkey
March 28, 2008
i know of what i speak. i have volumes and volumes of experience with women. i have been in the trenches. i have taken bullets. in fact, i currently still have shrapnel lodged in my right testicle.
all i can do is put this shit out there. i can’t force you to listen. and even if you do listen, i can’t force you to put any of it into practice. that is completely your own prerogative…
that being said, i’m no pick-up artist and i’m not trying to be. i am no poser. this isn’t a competition. it’s simply about giving yourself the most opportunity to make a connection. it’s way too easy for a girl to shoot you down. don’t give her obvious reasons to. also, you can’t force chemistry. it’s either there or it isn’t. take stock, be honest with yourself, cut your losses and move on if that’s what needs to be done. nothing is more pathetic than some dude who just doesn’t know when to quit. there will always be another girl. let me repeat. there will always be another girl.
i went out last night with a buddy of mine for a beer. simple enough. there were three girls in the joint which wasn’t so bad considering there were only four dudes. i just wanted to hang with my buddy though so i really didn’t give a rat’s ass either way. i like having pretty girls around me the same way i like to have pretty paintings on the wall. of course, i do have a penis and i’ll take those odds any day. i mean, come on, that’s like shooting fish in a barrel.
so anyway, somehow the cutest girl in the bunch ended up sitting between me and my buddy. he was all over her. he must have told her how hot she was at-least fifteen times which is the cardinal sin of all cardinal sins for all of us big-ball swingers out there. he also kept putting his arm around her and making way too much physical contact for some girl he had just met. i was getting ready to lose my lunch all over him. if a girl touches you then that’s the signal to proceed. always assume you’re sitting at a red light until you receive a green.
what was i doing during all of this? i was dancing, not paying attention to the babe, and allowing my buddy the freedom to squander any opportunity he had. believe me. i am the best wingman ever. i will go down with the ship for one of my boys. i was pulling for him, but come on now, he was forgetting all about the basics…
to make an excruciatingly long story short, it was closing time and we all walked outside. i wanted to leave them together so i hugged the girl as a polite way of saying see ya’. she proceeded to turn her head and stick her tongue down my throat. i said whoa!!! and i pulled back out of surprise (sure, after about ten minutes.) my buddy, with his infinite lack of knowing when to say when, proceeded to hug her after i had while he then tried to stick his tongue down her throat. i could only stand there and shake my head in amazement. i’m seriously considering staging an intervention for him. this behavior absolutely cannot continue…
btw - this wasn’t supposed to be funny. i ’tagged’ it humor simply because i tag all of my shit humor. it was supposed to be educational. see the mistakes others make and don’t make them yourself. not doing that is pretty much the definition of being a little bitch.
i just want to cuddle
March 25, 2008
while acting as a conduit for the benevolent spirit of charitable giving i decided to not only shell out the cash for a 3 1/2 star dinner for this little blonde babe i know, but i also decided to give her a back-rub and spoon her, all in a selfless attempt to fill the void left by her ex-boyfriend. i’m just glad i was there. i mean, if i hadn’t ‘worked out the kinks,’ so to speak, she may not have slept so soundly. life is stressful, particularly when your parents pay your rent, like hers do.
she made sure to tell me during the massage that she couldn’t believe she wasn’t turned on, that she was still too wrapped-up in her ex to feel horny for me. wow, what a relief. i’m just glad she felt this way before we engaged in anything she may have regretted later. regretful sex is no sex of which i want to be part, particularly when it involves an ex-stripper with enormous breasts.
fortunately for me, i had run into her the week before while walking past union square. she must have forgotten to mention she was fresh out of a relationship. i was just thankful she felt she could contact me when she was feeling lonely, post break-up. i mean, the first few times we hung out, which was almost five years ago now, we immediately got down to business and never really had a chance to talk. i never even found out her favorite color. admittedly, the memories are a little fuzzy but i seem to recall that, like fred & ginger, peanut butter & jelly and kid n’ play, my fist and her rectum just went together. imagine my pleasure and surprise to find that in lieu of anal fisting we would finally be able to really get to know one another.
it was about time.
i’ve done a number of things with ex-strippers. engaging in conversation has never been one of them. man, i have really been missing out.
building the perfect vagina
March 4, 2008
my regular readers have probably been wondering where i’ve been. after all, i’m generally fairly militant about posting, atleast, a blog-entry or two a week. well, what can i say? i’ve been busy. very busy.
my parents, in particular, will be happy to know that after so many years, i am at long last utilizing my education in biology for which they spent a small fortune. all of those hours spent in the lab are finally paying off in spades, as well as all of the hard work my father endured to pay for it all. in a project which is sure to attract the attention of the nobel prize people, i am creating, through careful gene code manipulation and subsequent cloning, a herd of perfect vaginas…
yes, it’s true. what the step after that may be is anybody’s guess, but it really doesn’t matter. why? well, because i’ll have my very own herd of perfect vaginas of course. how many vaginas will constitute a herd? i’m not exactly sure but i think it’s safe to say - ’a lot.’ will i give each of them a name? that’s one idea. will i play with them? i’d sure like to think so. will i have some amazing parties?
i will have the greatest parties ever known to humankind.
how i’m gathering the necessary vagina cells is a combination of strict scientific method and carefully calculated lack of personal hygiene. see, i have refrained from trimming the fingernails on the middle three fingers of my right hand for quite some time now, in order to create a human speculum, of sorts. i have also started ‘dating,’ which is simply a euphemism for pulling the hottest girls out of my neighborhood’s bars and probing their vaginas for ’scraping’ purposes. as soon as the scraping is complete and i have my cell sample i immediately trigger an alarm which mimics my telephone ring. i ‘answer’ my phone to the pretend ‘news’ that a homeless person was just found by my roommate passed out while sitting on my toilet. visibly ’shaken,’ i literally run out the door and head directly back to my swingin’ bachelor’s pad/laboratory where i promptly procure the aforementioned vagina cells from beneath my fingernails and place them in an awaiting petri dish. all in the name of science…
i have amassed a most impressive collection of vagina cells and have produced a few really nice vaginas. still, perfection eludes me. however, i shall not waiver in my quest. i have only just begun.
after i perfect my work with vaginas i am looking to take on an intern to do the dirty work for my next pet project - creating a herd of perfect asses. start growing your fingernails gentlemen…
