Tuesday Morning Train Wreck
**NOTE: This was originally titled Monday Morning Train Wreck, but 50 cent PBR's and four hours of sleep last night extended by weekend by one more drunken day.
One too many passwords to remember this morning is how my day starts. Several of the ones I did remember before violating security regulations for various software programs and inter-company applications, were extremely hard to coax out of my taxed cranium. And even though I�m a train wreck come monday morning, I quietly had a fantastic weekend and achieved resolution in my social circle, which had become abruptly drama filled without my consent.
Friday was another pseudo-date with the �x� and the last standing piece in the social puzzle, which I yet lack the strength and direction to address. I�m certain I covered our current standing and my just mentioned pseudo-date description pretty much hits the nail on the head. In addition the two of us also helped out my good friend and with a lack of a proper nickname, we�ll just call him �the nicest guy I know� or Mr. Niceguy for short. Mr. Niceguy had hooked up with one of the twins I am acquainted with only to break up with her a couple of months later. Turns out they have no common bonds to proceed forward with and this had him rather torn up because she really is a nice girl. Instead of dragging out the relationship and use her for sex and money (she pays for everything and seems to posses a higher sex drive then my own) he ended the tenure and was overcome with extreme guilt because he really is a nice guy. This soul searching moment was brought to us by an 18 pack of coors light that we drank down to a six pack before resolution was obtained and forced me to relinquish the keys for my automobile over to the �x� as by this point I was to hammered to navigate the three whole blocks through my residential neighborhood back to mi casa. There was lots of drunken sex, the steamy details of which I will spare you, but I will say I had to wash my sheets the next day.
The next day! Left the confines of my room to procure food and water from the kitchen and to use the bathroom facilities, finally regaining my equilibrium by starting up drinking again, right before I went out for my satruday night adventure. It hurt to blink, it hurt to groan in pain and the first shrill whines of piercing melodies from my phone forced me to turn the thing to vibrate and toss it in my sock drawer. I slept a ton, but eventually just like Remo Willaims, my adventure began.
The x-super hottest roommate on the planet (x because she is no longer a roommate, but still super hot) ventured back to our neck of the woods and the roomie posse re-united and fled to a much seedier part of the city for some much needed T&A. Just as there are high class drinking dens, middle ground watering holes and downright dirty dive bars, stripping type clubs, of ill repute also offer up a similar smattering of choices. While I am very comfortable in a dirty dive bar, I think it goes without saying, that hanging out in a dirty dive-like titty bar is not a good idea, but for the sake of argument and clarification, �Hanging out in a nasty ass dirty strip club is not a good idea.� In addition to gnarly accommodations, the women are almost always less than stellar and one of my few visits to such a locale (mostly by accident while checking out new places, mind you) ended with me racing out the door after I was solicited by several dancers and the manager got pissed when I kept saying no so he thought I was an undercover cop as he was apparently also the pimp for this pad as well. High-class establishments, while fun to visit, cost too much, cost too much and cost too much. And while I am capable of hob-knobbing with the snobs and able minded to discuss the current real estate market or stock trends with dudes in suits, there is just something disturbing about looking at mostly naked women side by side with guys that smell, talk and dress like my father.
For a guy that is liberal and outspoken about most subject matter and who is extremely conservative when it comes to his social agenda and matters of the heart, a middle of the road strip club is right up my alley. 2for1 domestic drafts all night every night, 6-dollar lap dances, the DJ�s like my crew and me because we actually tip them and request songs that rock, which the owner prefers to the hippin and a hoppin stuff and the bouncers are even decent (for muscle bound dickheads that is). There is a diverse mixture of �entertainers� as well and while there are a couple of seriously ugly chicks that shouldn�t be dancers, for the most part the rest range from cute, to hot, to drop dead gorgeous. Most of them are overly friendly and the ones that have been less than cordial aren�t there when me and mine make our once every 2-3 month appearance. I always can find at least one hottie (usually more) to lavish my attention upon every time I go, and there is at least always one chica there whom not only remembers me, but also actually makes attempts to be friendly outside of her work environment. As with most jobs, employees come and go and my current girlie girl advised she has finally graduated class and will be moving off to another state at the end of June. While this is a sad day for my booby seeing tours of duty, it is nice to actually see that a girl, still in her prime put herself through a college system, secure an education and got a legitimate job as a bio-chemist for a major corporation and be able to leave such a job behind. I can actually say that this is a charitable fund I didn�t mind contributing to.
Enough of the serious, analytical and intellectual part of my strip club journeys, lets talk about naked chicks. Saw my hard-core girlie girl as well and we swapped band names, names of drinking dens and got into a heated argument about the need to (in my opinion) raise taxes to offset the budget crisis, where she thinks cutting taxes and stimulating the economy is the way to go. How a foxy chick with tattoos, a bull ring through her nose who takes her clothes of as a part time job ended up a somewhat conservative republican I will never no. I stopped the conversation by buying a dance from her. My female roomie got a dance from a career women in the sex industry; a long legged, wavy haired blondie who poses in 45 separate magazines and wings away to Vegas every other weekend to work someplace up there. The highlight of the evening was two-fold, provided first by �Diamond�, aka the girl that nobody would tip. She should have picked �Coal� as her stage name, because that is what her ass looked liked; lumpy and unrefined. At one point she got really upset that no one was paying any attention and began stomping her feet and some dude up front booed her and she stormed into the back never to re-emerge. The heckling was a bit much, as it takes a lot of guts (or mental instabilities) to get up on that stage, but some chicks just shouldn�t be strippers; when you are ugly you are ugly and The Swan isn�t going to put you on their show if your career goal is to be the hottest girl in the strip club you work at.
Finally, I was advised by yet another girl that it was nice to, �dance for good looking, guys like you that can get chicks, because we don�t have to worry about what you are doing with your hands. Plus you have a personality and are intelligent and funny so you entertain us while we entertain you.� Ahh, how sweet! Too bad for me that my introverted personality keeps me from meeting chicks besides work colleagues and internet friends and even those I�m not very good at. Oh well, at least she got the good looking, funny and intelligent part down pat!
Man I wish all girls would lie to me like that.
Comments Are Always Appreciated!
powered by SignMyGuestbook.com