Flip Cup Game

Is there any easier venue for meeting girls than the house party? No. Think about the advantages and short cuts the house party gives you:

1. No cold approaches, only “warm” approaches. You may have never met the girl before but at a house party that doesn’t matter. There’s an expectation that people will introduce themselves to other house party guests.
2. Convenient opener material. “So how do you know [host’s name]?” Simple. Also gives you instant higher status if you know the host but she doesn’t.
3. The girls are friendlier. Where a club or bar causes bitch shields to power up to maximum deflection, a house party softens frontline defenses. Think of the house party like a Davos diplomatic circle jerk and the bars like the trenches of WWI. Where would you rather be?
4. The girls are cooler. True fact. Remember the girls you met at clubs versus the girls you met at house parties. Who did you have more fun talking to?
5. Automatic social proof. You’re at a house party so you must have friends, ergo you’re normal and socially accepted. The girls’ fear of getting hit on by a weird loner omega is alleviated.
6. NO COCKBLOCK. Seriously, how often do you see blatant CB attempts at house parties? Flocks of girls tend to disperse in the comfortable confines of a home or apartment as opposed to the perimeter defense they enforce in the bars. You’re more likely to find the CB wandering off by herself and getting lost in the kitchen having shots with the other castaway cockblocks.

DOWNSIDE

The girls won’t be as hot. The upper attractiveness tier of chicks are more validation-addicted than the lower tiers. They aren’t going to waste their best years of attention whoring in house parties when they could command a much larger audience of suckups in the clubs. But if you don’t mind sacrificing 8s and 9s for boffing 7s with agreeable personalities, then you should focus on house parties.

Flip cup and other drinking games may be retarded but they’re staples of the house party and an excellent skill every player under the age of 24 should master. You’re in close contact with the girls “accidentally” brushing up against them, the girls are getting drunker by the second, and if you’re good you can demonstrate higher status by humiliating your male competitors and showing mercy when one of them looks like he’s about to puke. If you have a high tolerance for alcohol you’ll always be one sober step ahead of the girls. A good player knows to keep his wits about him when pussy is on the line.

advanced ping pong.

A guy at this party asked me to join this energetic flip cup game. I politely declined. At my age, I’m cultivating a suave James Bond (Connery, of course) identity for myself and flip cup doesn’t fit that image. I think the girls were impressed with my tumbler of whiskey.

Read Full Post »

Gay Boyfriend

I have a theory about girls who have “tight like that” best gay boyfriends. These types of girls are very girly (read: flaky and feminine) but their libidos lean towards the masculine. It’s really the perfect combo: A girly girl who unleashes in the bedroom (and the park and the library and the deep end of the pool…). I’m not sure why this is. Maybe the girly in them loves the BGBF attention and the sexpot in them identifies with the robust and promiscuous gay lifestyle. The downside for a straight guy dating a BGBF-loving girl is the higher risk of cheating and drama. These are the girls who will dance on bars as random guys stroke their stockinged inner thighs. To handle a relationship with this girl, you have to be in a “party all the time” mental space.

Interestingly, there is no reverse scenario. There’s no such thing as a lesbian girlfriend for straight men. It would be great to be able to call up a best lesbian girlfriend for a quickie round of golf or Wii bowling, and commiserating over bitches. Even better if she’s a lipstick lesbian and looks good. Unfortunately, lesbians get along with no one but other lesbians.

I would love to have a gay boyfriend — minus the intimacy part — to take along shopping so that I don’t have to waste time figuring out what looks best on me. He would know right away. And I would enjoy my platonic gay boyfriend’s constant flattery boosting my ego major — maybe even two full rating points (10++) so that I would hit the clubs later on cloud nine rejecting women all night for being out of their league.

Some things I’ve learned from a girl I know who has a BGBF:

• Gay boyfriends are fiercely protective of their girlfriends. They have been known to knock out brawny straight guys for disrespecting their “girl”.
• Black gays are the most flaming, followed by whites, then asians who are the hardest to peg as gay from a mere glance. Supposedly, this is because it is a big deal for gay blacks to come out so when they do it’s pedal to the metal.
• There is such a thing as a “gay face”. Hard to describe, but you know it when you see it. Think big bright feminine eyes, full lips, and an all-around glow.
• All gay men are “ass men”. There’s no such thing as a gay “bitch tit man”.

I am much hipper and, yes, a little gayer, for knowing this culturally valuable information.

Postscript:

Do gay men get off looking at their own penises? Do they have to battle a hardon every time they grab hold to take a wizz? Mysteries of the universe…

Read Full Post »

Shit Stains After Sex

A reader wrote me asking for advice about a delicate situation. He asked me in private but since I think this is an important issue that all guys should know about (and that the email was probably a joke), I’ve posted it here and removed all identifying information.

ive been reading your blog for a while and its helped me tighten up my game a lot since i got out of an X yr relationship.  some of your tips actually helped me land a solid 8 that ive been dating for a while now, and things are getting pretty serious.  sex is awesome, and shes always up for it.  id say in general im pretty happy with the girl and shes definitely long-term material.

…[so] we have a great time banging, she stays over, whatever.  in the morning she goes home and when im getting up to get dressed, etc, i turn the light on and on my white sheets i see a (admittedly super small) shitstain on the bed – where her hole would be when i was drilling away at her.  this is gross of course, but look, everyone has a bad day down there once in a while (though in my opinion a girl never, ever should).  im willing to forgive that and just put it very quickly out of my mind, especially cuz its so small, etc.

Once a girl left a small brown spot on my bedsheet which I didn’t notice until a few days later. (I sleep on my couch a lot.) I was so incredulous that I had to verify it was what it looked like, so I poked my nose in it and sniffed. It’s amazing how long a shit odor can last in 20 thread count fabric.

so big deal right?  unfortunately, [after that incident], i met up with her after work for dinner/drinks.  b/c of this, she of course didnt shower, which bothers me cuz im like that, but whatever.  anyway, we bang a bunch of times that night and i sorta forgot about that one time and she goes home in the morning.  i wake up later and pull back my white sheets (forgot to mention they are white), and AGAIN, though much fainter ill say, there were a FEW different stains, and clearly brown in nature.

If there’s no odor, I would suggest investing in chocolate brown sheets. Out of sight, out of mind.

as i said, im pretty into this girl, and i dont want to just kick her to the curb.  so im just curious what you think about the situation.  is there some way i can get her to check her hygiene?  get that shit in line?  i know cuz youre such a tough guy “alpha” you might immediately default to not talking to her again, but again, i like her, and right now im enjoying the sex, etc etc.  plus im not a huge fan of constantly going out and trying to pick up chicks, cuz im over that shit these days.

First, be sure it’s a shit stain. If you bang a girl toward the end of her period (or during it. My needs don’t take five day holidays) any leftover unejected blood will mix with her vaginal lubrication and leave an ugly reddish-brown discharge on your shaft when you pull out. Vigorous thrusting means a little will dribble out past her taint and onto the bed, leaving stains that look like shit droplets. DO NOT under any circumstances smell this period blood/vaj mucous mix because the odor is horrendous. Try to contain your morbid curiosity. I’ve already done the smelling for you, so the public interest is served by my poor impulse control.

Anyhow, post-coital period froth is a natural bodily phenomenon and nothing to be alarmed over. If, on the other hand, you are sure it’s shit stains she’s tracking on your bed like a dog with worms, then I have to ask — is your girlfriend 90 years old? That might explain the incontinence. If she’s a healthy young woman then either you are pounding her too hard with an oversized member and shaking loose some dingleberries, or she’s a lazy wiper.

Poor hygiene can be a deal breaker. No matter how hot a girl is, if her breath causes me to retch I won’t ever want to kiss her. I’m certainly not going to give a rimjob to a girl with ring around the rectum. The old “tough guy alpha” would tell you to move on, girls are interchangeable and you don’t need to settle for a lazy wiper. But the new Compassionate Me of Transcendent Love recommends you leave a roll of 4-ply toilet paper on her pillow with a little note saying “thought you might like to try this. it’s so soft!”

Oh yeah, if it turns out she has colon cancer, dump her.

Hope this helps!

***

On a related note, this reader’s question reminded me of a story from my past. I was banging this marginal chick when I turned her over for doggy action. I like to spread the cheeks apart while doing a girl from behind and when I did I was immediately assaulted by a strong whiff of asshole. It was like a shitcloud hitting me in the face. Every time I spread her cheeks a new blast of stink would fly up my nose. I pressed her ass cheeks together to contain the smell. I turned my head to the side and my eyes began to tear up. I pressed tighter. Between the bad odor and not being able to watch the action because I was looking away from her ass with tears in my eyes, I started to deflate in her vagina. Even though I’m sure she could tell I was losing my wood inside her, she still moaned, kind of like how a teenager will act drunk when he’s been drinking non-alcoholic beer all night. I pulled out before I went completely flaccid, ran to the bathroom, and disposed of the unspoiled condom in the toilet, but not before I pondered the possibility of re-using it in the future on a cleaner girl. Condoms aren’t cheap.

I finished up to odor-free porn after she left.

Read Full Post »

Girls Like Squeezable Things

At the EU Embassy tour in DC last weekend me and another aficionado of European girls culture picked up these very squeezable red balls at the Austrian embassy.
give it a good freudian squeeze ladies.

Despite getting much grief from parties who shall remain anonymous who believe that carrying around touristy crap is a very white people thing to do, I held and caressed my ball all day and never let it out of my sight. I also had a mini flag in my back pocket, and an official looking EU post-it notepad. I felt worldly and it showed in my international-style strut.

Later on, we were at the Reef roof deck enjoying mussels and fries (three random black guys had ordered the same meal. I had no idea mussels were the new hip food) when Roosh put his red ball on the bar. A girl leaned into our group and asked him about the ball.

“Why do you have a ball?”
“Because it’s mine.”
“Can I hold your ball?”
“No, it’s my ball.”

She looked at him with that slack-jawed half-grin that girls get when they’re a little bit offended but they like it. A few more words were exchanged and she left our group. One minute later she leaned back in, reached her arm across the bar, and grabbed his ball. She held it up triumphantly.

“I got it!”
“Give me back my ball. You’re not allowed to touch it.”

She relinquished the ball with a look of sexual attraction on her face. Her male friend apologized for her. Beta.

This got me thinking about props to bring to bars that would help spark flirtatious conversation. Random items that make no sense whatsoever in a bar context and are made of a material that tempts girls to stroke and squeeze them would work best. For instance, I have an Adidas runners pullover with thumbholes in the sleeves that I wear out to clubs which is not the most stylish looking yet I get girls coming up to me to feel the silky Rayon material all the time. Texture can be just as effective as the look of what you wear because girls perceive the world with all their senses equally while guys mostly use their eyes and penis.

Along these lines, I thought of the following knickknacks to carry with me and place on bars while I drink my beer:

pink teddy bear
cotton balls
nerf football
silly putty
bubble-pack
stuffed bunny rabbit
chia pet
silicone implant
pad and pen (not squeezable, but this works!)
silk scarf
play-doh
giant dustball
a rubber hot dog

Any girl who squeezes or strokes right away is likely to be sexually uninhibited, cutting my workload in half.

Read Full Post »

Auto Mechanics Are Con Men

I dropped my car off at a Midas in a ritzy suburb of DC* to get an estimate for repairs. I left their shop the next afternoon having bitched them out in front of customers with no repairs done and a credit toward any future visits.

Here is the standard MO of the slimeball con man mechanic. If you are the recipient of this schtick, do not bring your car there.

– First, he’ll tell you how great your car is, to soften up your resistance. “That’s a good year for that car. They stopped making them like that a couple years ago. Fine vehicle. Solid engine. If I were you I’d do whatever it takes to keep her in top shape. She could go 300,000 miles.”

– Then he’ll try to sell you on repairs and upkeep you don’t need using parts jargon you’ve never heard. Oh, and all the parts come as a “unit” or in “pairs” so you’ll be spending double what you really need to spend. Watch out for phrases like “While we were looking for that brake problem you asked us to check, we came across…” and “We recommend a transmission, brake, and coolant flush.” In fact, if he uses the word “flush” a red flag should immediately go up. Suckers Customers, especially fad-of-the-day yuppies who extol the virtues of regular coffee and wheatgrass colonics, must be conditioned to believe a car needs a “flush” every 500 miles because they anthropomorphize their cars, like they do their tiny eunuch dogs.

– After you’ve turned down every one of his additional recommendations, he’ll begrudgingly agree to your basic repair request (you’ll actually hear the disappointment in his voice) but neglect to give you a quote if you don’t ask for it. ALWAYS ASK FOR A WRITTEN PRICE QUOTE. If you are speaking to him over the phone tell him to write his price quote down so that you can see it when you come to pick up your car. Without a price quote, you are guaranteed to pay more than what you anticipated.

– He neglects to ask if you want after market or OEM (original equipment manufacturer) parts used. If you don’t specify after market, expect to pay double for OEM since he will default to those parts. When you ask later why after market wasn’t used, he will tell you “those specific after market parts aren’t designed for your model car.” 99% of the time this won’t be true, so don’t believe him.

– Any haggling by the shop manager is an admission of guilt. Why would he haggle if his price wasn’t flexible from the start? Can you haggle for pants at Banana Republic? It’s weird that mechanics in the US operate like third world bazaars.

– If his eyes are close together on his head and he has pock marks, there is a higher than average chance he is a con man.

How you can protect yourself:

– If you feel like you’re being scammed, bitch the scumbag out with liberal use of “fuck” in all its glorious permutations. Start arguing in a mild-mannered way to lower his defenses and build to a curse-filled crescendo. Make sure to do this when other customers are in earshot. An irate customer fucking up shit for the boss in front of his underlings and the other customers (and future customers) puts a lot of pressure on him to concede and cut you a deal. Bonus points if children are present. Watch how fast he grabs his ankles.

– Wear dark-shaded sunglasses to make yourself look more intense and slightly crazy.

– Look all those parasites in the eyes. A liar will never be able to hold your gaze for longer than a couple seconds.

– Bring a PDA or iPhone and start furiously googling for parts and repair prices. Announce loudly for all to hear that you are going to “google and see what this really costs.” Hold your PDA high in the air when you say this. C.H.U.D.s cower before the power of the mighty google.

Top three sleaziest occupations: mechanic, used car salesman, personal injury lawyer. I’m seriously contemplating selling my car.

*I bet the bigger rip-off artists are in upper class neighborhoods. Rich yuppies who don’t know a thing about cars would throw money at the mechanic to fix the problem, chalking up the cost to normal “wear and tear”.

Read Full Post »

Culture In Decline: A Pictorial Series

Read Full Post »

The Gayest Show On Earth

The circus is a great daytime event to take a girl for a third date. It’s thooper dooper gay, because the performers are very happy and always smiling. The spectators are smiling, the clowns are smiling, everyone is gay and joyous. So fabulously gay! The happy smiling gayness puts your date in a positive upbeat mood, even if the brat sitting next to her got cotton candy in her hair. Plus, it gives you and her plenty to ridicule, including all the kids in the audience on sugar highs, and as we know nothing bonds like shared mockery. Making fun of people has been the catalyst for sexual congress for thousands of generations.

Girls holding hands in the club are circus elephants. The girl in the lead dragging her friends around is the alpha elephant. The fattest elephant was the caboose.

Here are the girls complimenting each other on how good their asses look in those new jeans.

I caught the human cannonball mid-blast. His trajectory and distance reminded me of my jizzbombs. I wished my money shots made the cannon noise.

The guy standing on the elephant is the central circus character. He’s sort of a half-clown, half-Shakespearean tragic figure for the 21st century who pretends to pine for one of the beautiful trapeze artists. His clown makeup was not the scary kind with the big red nose and lips. He just had tall hair and maybe some pastel colored lip gloss which I’m told was poppin’. I read that clown school is more selective than Harvard, so only the best graduate and go on to work for one of the major circus outfits, like Ringling or Cirque du Soleil. It showed. This guy was a Renaissance man, skilled in acrobatics, athletics, fashion, drama, and animal husbandry. My date was ogling him. I began to regret my choice of venue.

There was padding under the high wire. Big letdown. The high wire guy was Latino, the human pyramid balancing act was Chinese, and the lion tamer was East European. Stereotypes R Us.

I like this photo. I caught the tiger in mid diving ass rape. Surprize buttsecks!

I wrote before about planning creative dates if you want to build a stronger emotional bond with a girl. The circus definitely fits that bill, and judging by the number of couples I saw there mixed in with all the families I’m not the only one who follows the wisdom of my words. A good idea for those masochists who are dating lawyers is to bring her to the circus and if she doesn’t crack a smile once or bitches about the uncomfortable seats you can pay off one of the clowns to harass her with animal balloons shaped like overgrown clits.

Aside from its date potential, I was a little disappointed by the whole spectacle. The circus is a major production now, polished, snappy, and fast-paced, all business no heart. Kiosk after kiosk sold cheap plastic trinkets to shovel into the consumerist maw. It wouldn’t be out of place in the Mall of America. There were no monkeys in hats on organ grinders. No animals taking dumps in the middle of the ring. No poop or hay smells. No bearded ladies, tri-breasted midgets, fire breathers, knife throwers, or Siamese twins. I was hoping for the old grimy circuses of yore you always see in the movies; the ones where you could go behind the big tent and catch a few angry looking balding clowns playing a game of poker and drinking gin through crazy straws. Maybe one of them tells you to “Get lost, kid!” and you find yourself backing into the psychic’s tent who curses in Latin and hisses like a snake when she pulls the Goatse card for you.

No such luck. The only freaks there were the PETA protestors. You can blame the fucking lawyers for this.

Read Full Post »