Heading NORTH for the Winter

My bosses laughed at me when I said I was taking Friday off to fly to Minneapolis. Sure, I have friends in Miami, Los Angeles, Austin, New Orleans, and other warm weather locales - but Minneapolis holds a special place in my heart.

When I lived in Minneapolis, I spend a lot of time working, fencing, and volunteering with my fraternity. And the relationships I made there were strong, and suprisingly resilient enough to last through my moving to the South, my friend's deployments to the Mideast, and even another's return to his home in Norway. I can be friendly and gregarious, but hanging with my friends in Minneapolis - I feel like I am at home.



After all, Minneapolis has a lot going for it, as you can see.

Most of my time was spent with a glass in my hand, and a glassy look in my eye. Unfortunately, that plan didn't do much for my fencing on Sunday morning, but competing in an epee tournamen was an afterthought. It's funny, because of the new 3-1-1 rule for liquids I need to check my bag if I want to bring my shaving products and cologne. And its just as easy for me to check my fencing bag (with my toiletries stored within) as it is to check my normal travel bag. Before that TSA bright idea - I probably would have let fencing go to avoid baggage claim and spent all Saturday night hanging out with these ladies...



It's just as well... I needed the tournament experience. Besides, even though I was in a hotel in the suburbs, I never once felt alone... I am sure to be back soon.

Insane Things Girls Have Said To Me In The Club

Check out the above video. Holy crap, it's funny 'cause its true. It reminds me of all the times I have been in the bar or club and have been unlucky enough to have reasonable people around me as a buffer. I have heard some pretty outlandish things over the years.

• Wow, you look a lot like Usher. I know, I've met him for realz. You are cute. [Then she walks away]
• You seem really nice. I bet you have great parents.
• Why were you talking to that other girl? I'm going to kill you.
• I saw you kissing that little red-headed slut. She wasn't even hot. You suck.
• Can you flag down the bartender and get me three vodka-Red bulls, and two gin and tonics? You're paying for them, right?
• What the fuck! You should pay for the pleasure of my company!
• Wow, you look like Forrest Whittaker!
• You ARE Forrest Whittaker! Don't lie to me! I know how you Hollywood types are.
• I've got a boyfriend, but you are invited to my pool party tomorrow night...
• [Strange woman randomly french kisses me when she walks through the barroom door] We shouldn't do this, my husband is coming in right now.
• This town is so racial. Look, that line across the street is nothing but black people, and this one is nothing but white people. [Never mind I am standing behind the white girl talking.]
• Can I touch your hair?
• Can I touch your [bald] head?
• Why won't you buy me a drink?
• Why aren't you smiling?
• You don't look happy.
• You're black, what are you doing here? [The girl speaking to me was an African-Puerto Rican mix]
• Wow, I'm blacker than you are! [Said by a native born Dutch girl]
• You are awesome, you would be perfect for a girl I know in my office. She is a bit overweight and has two kids, are you cool with that?
• You had better buy us some shots, or we won't leave you alone with our friend.

Sometimes, it makes my head spin. Most times, the craziness sends me running to the bottle. And people wonder why I drink so hard when I am out.

Happy Holidays from the Tales

And by holidays, we specifically mean Christmas, New Year's Day, and Epiphany.

To celebrate the season, start by checking out the new Christmas movies out like This Chistmas, Sweeney Todd (based on a St. Nicholas miracle), and Nicholas of Myra (coming out in mid-2008). Then be sure to get lightly toasted on New Year's Eve... this will allow you to best enjoy the shenanigans of all the idiots celebrating the amateur drinkers' favorite holiday.

Also, be sure to offer the pretty single girl in your life a shot of Goldschlager. If she resists, tell her St. Nick says, "Take the gold, else you will become a whore." It's true, I read that story right... didn't I?

Stoli Hotel in Atlanta - Leave the Vodka, Keep the Party

Having been to events sponsored by Guinness, Chivas, Glenlivet, and Johnny Walker I have a pretty good idea of what to expect at these things. At the above events, you are going to have good food and a cozy group of people - but it will largely be a sausage fest. Try as I might, I have found few girls who absolutely love irish stouts and scotch whisky.

Vodka is a different story. Vodka is for people who want to drink water and get drunk at the same time. In other words, vodka is for women. And given that Stoli threw a party in Atlanta to celebrate its new Vitamin Water flavored vodka - I knew that there would be a ton of women in attendence. I was right.

The party started off right as I strolled into the Mason Murer building and saw an artist painting a hot naked chick near the wall. As the place filled up and the drink lines got longer, I wandered around and saw a lot of old friends. As the night got longer and drinks kept flowing - I made some new ones.

Like I said, vodka is a crowd pleaser - and everyone I came with disappeared into the fog of people except for my friend from work who didn't know anyone. So what started as a group of guys hanging out and talking degenerated into getting a drink, and then getting back in the drink line figuring you would be empty by the time we reached the bartender. We met a lot of folks that way, including a cute girl who said precisely 15 words before asking for my number. Gotta love efficiency.

Halloween Approaches...

And for once I will be in Atlanta. There are a ton of parties planned for this weekend, and I will make my rounds in between fencing tournaments and attempts to stay sober.

The sober thing actually feels kinda new. One of my friends from Minneapolis came to town last weekend and we threw down pretty hard. Hard as in late night stops at both Waffle House and Krystal's in the same weekend hard. I knew it was time to go dry for a while when various conversations take this direction.

DunwoodyGirl: So I have been dating around a lot, but haven't found the right guy. And I am obsessed over a guy in Peachtree City who is getting married...
Me: You see, your problem is that you need to get fucked. Hard. Soon.

Me: So, just curious, when did you get your boob job?
FakeBoobsGirl: Hmm, that's a little personal.
Me: Well, I over heard you mention it before. They look fantastic though!
FakeBoobsGirl: Do they make me look fat?

Me: So, you think I can home run this girl?
Dick: Dude, why? She's stinky man! You gotta have some kind of standards...
Me: Hey, I got a shower! And a bath!
Dick: Yeah, well I don't know about you, but being stinky is a deal breaker for me.

After that weekend came sales meetings in Florida and lots of wine and scotch. I love scotch (scotchy scotch scotch!), but my body has had enough. Plus I am tired of my pants using my eyes for a periscope.

So Happy Halloween to you all, and let me know if you need a ride. Friar Bellow's can always be trusted.



I was just ministering extreme unction!

Thoughts From The Midwest

I spent all last week, with the exception of Weds night/Thurs evening, in the Midwest. The first part of the week was spent in Chicago for work, and the last part of the week I was in St. Louis for fraternity stuff - which felt like work. All in all I had a great time, but a lot of strange things happened along the way.

Chicago

• I never knew how small a world Chicago could be. I am definitely going to start hanging at hotel bars in Atlanta.
• The coolest thing I had for lunch in months was the pizza pot pie at Chicago Pizza and Oven Grinder Company. It is very tasty and absolutely horrible for you.
• God bless Sales. It is the only profession where making out with a hot blonde in front of your co-workers is a good business move.
• Assertiveness with a smile can get you anywhere in work and in life. Who knew?
• If you make a bartender smile with your drink choice (a Manhattan in my case), he will make it very strong.
• W. Division St. must be kicking 7 days a week. Awesome.
• Girls love the business casual look (complete with sports coat).
• Three burgers and three rounds of drinks in ATL - $60-$70. The same at a hotel bar in this town? $150.
• Who knew that three days of boozing would murder your immune system?

And then there was St. Louis....

• Angry Jewish man accompanied by family yelling at the car rental shuttle because there is no room = WU Parents' Weekend. I actually pointed that out to him, smiling of course.
• The Residence Inn has a great penthouse option - but it is not worth $200 a night. Two bathrooms, a kitchen, and three beds was a nice setup though.
• Nati and I watched the baseball playoffs Thursday night at Krueger's on Clayton Rd. We still have no clue with whom the group of 30 hot young coeds dressed in seventies retro were affliated.
• Laclede's by SLU serves beer in the biggest disposable cups I have ever seen.
• You haven't lived until you watch college-age drunk white girls shout "Supersoak that ho!"
• After hanging out with a friend from high school I thought to myself, are my high school memories just old or repressed?
• I am pretty much going to assume anyone who self-identifies herself as polyamorous (as opposed to just a swinger) is self-absorbed and completely insane. In other words, I would only be interested if she was wasted.
• First sign I am truly getting older: I can't summon mojo in a club when I am coughing and hacking like a sick dog in Virginia.

Celebrating My Non-Birthday

Miss Daisy got me a copy of Patton Oswald's latest CD. Oswald is funny in small doses, and one of his less funny jokes was that after age 21, only ages in multiples of 10 matter until you hit 91. In any case, I decided to do something for my 28th. Last year, I spent my 27th with a bottle of Johnny Walker Black and a snifter of haterade as a chaser. No sense in doing that again.

This year was going to be easy going - a nice happy hour around the corner from my house. Unfortunately, a huge storm insured only the most dedicated friends would show up - and even I managed to get drunk as soon as I got home from work and was 20 minutes late. Yes, I was 20 minutes late to my own birthday happy hour that I planned. Yes, I am a complete jackass. About 15 people or so popped in and out, mostly Wash U folks and my regular drinking buddies.

After things died down, a few of us hit the clubs in Midtown. There I managed to hit on/grope a beautiful girl giving out free rubber bracelets for FOX's new cop drama, "K-Ville." Something about her dark caramel skin and awesome long hair made her irrestible. Unfortunately, I was pretty sloppy - and I am sure the over/under on her deleting my number from her cell is about six minutes.

SEXY UPDATE: I really don't give myself enough credit. She didn't delete the number, she called, she likey, and she wants to go out. In fact, I was one of the few people she actually gave a bracelet - she sucks at promotions. Plus, I was as sloppy as I remember. Who knew?

Here are some quotes really made this evening memorable.

Me: "She always wants to be the center of attention."
Dennis: "That's easy... just rail her in the middle of the bed!"

LW: "Yes she's hot. But I am not going after a woman the same age as my mother."
Me: "Whoa, I know your mom. Now I can't go after her either!"

Dennis: "So how was Midtown?"
Me: "It was typical, gave this gorgeous black girl my number..."
Dennis: "Whoa, you hit on a black girl? That's news!"

Me: "I like her, I'd love to date her, I just never think about calling her until I am half-wasted."
Miss Daisy: "You truly are a jackass."

Waitress: "You guys are new, but I had this guy before."
Me: grins ear to ear
Dennis: "You just made his entire weekend!"

VIII Fifty - It's Cougar-rific!

Jezebel magazine has never steered me wrong. While subscribing to it made me feel a little too fresh in the morning, being on the mag's event list has been pure gold. This is especially true when it comes to open bars. Earlier this week I got an email from Jezebel, aka "the booze fairy," telling me about a new restaurant/bar called 850. Sure, I thought the Roman numberals mixed with the word "fifty" was pretenious - and the fact that 850 or VIII fifty refers to its street address was quite stupid. Nevertheless, I couldn't help but notice that the styling of the logo and the description of the venue was similar to the ultracool Louis XIII restaurant in suburban Minneapolis. That, and the free bar, persuaded me to check out this place in the northern Atlanta suburb of Roswell.

At first glance, the restaurant was pretty understated... except for the two Lamborghini Diablos(?) parked in front. And the photo screen. I was wearing a green Old Navy polo and dark grey Bill Blass slacks that were two inches too big in the waist - I wasn't interested in taking pictures.

Inside, the restaurant opened up nicely. Each of the three indoor dining areas are hidden away, and the raised bar immediately gets your attention. Outside there is a large center dining area with draped booths/couches all around the perimeter of the deck. You almost forget you are in suburbia until you see the Home Depot and the Goodyear in the adjacent blocks.

The drink service was remarkable given the couple hundred people clammering for free drinks. The food was mostly seafood, but the steak I sampled was superb. The Bacardi girls they hired for the event were hot and cordial, even though I got the feeling they were not interested in staying around after they got paid. Perhaps the reason for that was the clientele.

Wow. Personally, I always preferred the term MILF for describing attractive older women, but last night it seemed that only the more recent term "cougar" was apropos. If your idea of a crazy blonde threesome is Bo Derek, Sharon Stone, and Bea Arthur - VIII Fifty is the place for you. I pride myself on making friends and feeling comfortable in the most exclusive parties, but this place made me feel like a) I was sneaking in and b) I needed to be in bed. I was with a friend of mine and she even suggested I need to talk to one of these women to see if I can trade favours for one of the Lamborghinis sitting outside. If it wasn't for the fact that the place emptied out after the open bar period was over, I might have given that idea a shot.

VIII Fifty is a very cool place, with great food, and a good location if you are already living north of I-285. If you are a single guy, and you prefer girls who weren't alive during Nixon's administration, go ahead and make the drive into the city.

B-E A-G-G-R-E-S-S-I-V-E, Aggressive, B-E Aggressive!

When Miss Daisy was in town, we checked out one of my standby clubs, CosmoLava. Beside the fact that the place is ten times seedier than when we visited two years ago and no girls were offering MD free drinks, one couldn't help but notice how aggressive the guys were. And I am not including myself. I have a reputation among my friends for being very eager to hit on random women, but to be honest I only react to cues that I receive from them. Even if those cues have no bearing in reality, I am a good enough salesman to turn nothing into something. Absolute naked aggression is actually outside my comfort zone, unless I have an audience.

It's weird - I feel like I am getting older, so I should act more responsibly. Yet even though I am becoming less the aggressor in a drunken social environment, I am still one of the younger guys in the place. Go figure.

MissDaisy in ATL Remix

Some of you might remember what happened last year. Mostly gyros, ligers (oh my), Thundercats (are loose!), and enough alcohol to denature what's left of my hardwood floors.

This year I am probably going to be subjected to more MissDaisy one liners like these.

• Dude, you have a body by Miller
• Walking the dog? Did you have a Michael Vick moment?
• Wow, I think your theme song is "Make it Rain"

Of course, my revenge will be that I currently have the tolerance of a kung fu master getting kicked in the ballast. The booze will be swift, and hopefully going only one way.

Chances are good that my promise to MissDaisy's family that he will get home in one piece may be slightly exaggerated. As Nati and MadAngler can attest... a drunken weekend with me and my crew will turn you into into your favorite 1980s-1980s character. Nati turns into chair throwing Roddy Piper, MadAngler turns into Dr. Nick Riviera, and MissDaisy turns into Mrs. Betty Slocombe.

And I became HE-MAN... The most powerful man in the UNIVERSE! Seriously... keep me away from swords when I am drunk.

Friday Night: Sponsored By Guinness

Friday night I will be hanging out with friends at the Guinness Believers party, then off to a house party in Smyrna, and if I am still alive... "sexy dancing" at Loca Luna. It's never often enough that alcohol companies sponsor my good time. If they do this every night, I would be happy to wear logos on my clothes!

Unfortunately, the only girls I have met at the Guinness event were either engineers or relatives of executives at Diageo. So I found the above pic online. If you have something better, click here.

Tuesday Update - Who Parties on Monday?

Always bet on black.

Tuesday is the new Monday for me. Monday still has some excitement from 24 and random things going on, so Tuesday becomes the new "holy-crap-I-gotta-go-back-to-work" day.

Southeast sectionals was a bust last Sunday. I lost most of my bouts by a lot. It just wasn't my day. I will have a more detailed post mortem at Vader later this week. I wasn't too concerned when I found out that my event that started with 47 of some of the best male epeeists in the Southeast had grown to 74 of the best. I had a shot at qualifying for Division IA (top 25%) with 47 - at 74 there was little hope. The one A07 in my club barely qualified, and there are only two qualifiers from Georgia total. I am fencing in Division II for Nationals, that is good enough for this year.

The other annoying thing was that two cute fencer girls from Tennessee , one is on my Facebook, totally dissed me on Sunday. No love at all. I was hanging around waiting for pools, but not even a good luck wave. It was really weird - most fencers you will ever meet are friendly and gregarious at competition.

Monday was interesting. I hung out with two hot German girls, who are MBA students at Mississippi State. They were both 23 and wanted to party hard in Atlanta... on Monday. I put in a yeoman's effort to find something interesting - but we seemed doomed from the start. Midtown had a couple places open, but nothing was kicking, or worth leaving the neighborhood. Unfortunately, there was no consensus on simply hitting the liquor store and getting hammered at my place. Perhaps I need to stock Jagermeister in my freezer along with Goldschlager.

I did get to see 24 when we got back... it was actually pretty good. I was totally expecting the Chinese to kidnap Morris again; the pursuit of the kid was a nice twist. And having VPOTUS Daniels watch while his aide gets railed was kinda funny.

Happy Cinco de Mayo!

Mmmm... Coletrain, eres muy guapo!



Atlanta is having at least five huge blowouts for tomorrow's May 5 holiday, plus preparty's starting right now. I am hanging out with a friend, cute girl with a great ass, from out of town. Hopefully we will hang out, and I will be in bed in time to wake up at 5:30am to drive to Chattanooga to fence in the Southeast Sectional Championship. The event starts at 8am, and the field is extremely tough. Wish me luck!

In Defense of the Asshole

I've been a bad bad boy.


Sometimes being an asshole is a viable defense. Last night I was driving home from a friend's housewarming party, and I really didn't want to go home. It was only midnight, but since I will be in Miami Beach for a week this summer fencing, partying, and getting hammered - I kinda need to conserve funds. As I started driving up I-75 towards home, I sped past my exit as my feet decided to side with my dick and head up to Lassiter's on Cobb Parkway.

There are few things special about Lassiter's. The beer isn't all that cheap, the food is tasty but not special. It looks and feels like a dive, and it sits in a minor shopping center. In terms of Hotlanta trendiness, its not even on the radar screen. Even so, it has a charm all it's own - from the exhaustive poster of bad blonde jokes above the john in the men's bathroom, to the tiny dancefloor that sits in the doorway between the game room and the dining area.

In terms of talent, there is some, but not a lot. The competition for that talent, however, is non-existent. In other words, I am the only guy who ever bothers to talk to the two cute girls in the room. In this case there was a cute thirtysomething blonde, and her quiet brunette friend. The two were playing pool, the blonde seemed to be kicking ass, the brunette really didn't know what she was doing. After making my way over to a table near theirs - the three of us started talking, and when the waiter moved my beer to their hightop table - well, he did my work for me. After many beers, a few games of pool, and dancing on the tiny dancefloor - I wasn't sure where things were going to go. Both girls had boyfriends, and the blonde, Megan, insisted on my number so she could set me up with a friend or something. Claire, the brunette, protested that they don't know me, and that I could be just pretending to be a nice guy.

At that point I said, "Claire, I'm an asshole." Megan argued that I wasn't, but I declared I was. It seems counterintuitive, but I've found when talking to women for the first time you are better off declaring your bad intentions than promoting your good ones, however sincere they may or may not be. Women are afraid of being lied to in a bar, and rightly so. Being upfront about the fact that you aren't trying to impress anyone, that you are only interested in having a good time - gives whoever you are talking to the opportunity to understand what they are dealing with, and to take it or leave it. With friends of their boyfriends watching, the girls were in a complex situation, because since I had hands and a bit of lipstick all over me, I knew they were interested in being bad. We would have never approached this juncture if I tried to mask myself with the veil of being "a nice guy."

Wrong Place For The Final Four

As most of you know, the Final Four was here in Hotlanta this weekend. Unfortunately, I ended up getting smashed Thursday night, and had no interest in partying at all last weekend. My main goal was to stay at home on my couch and watch basketball while sipping a glass of tepid water and clutching my blanket. But things never work out that way.

I ended up getting a call from a girl who lives in North Georgia (MtGirl*) who wanted to hit a cool bar and grill in Kennesaw. I wasn't interested until I realized she wanted to go to Olde Towne. I love Olde Towne. The blackclad waitstaff there are so friendly and hot you want to bang 90% of them... and the other 10% want to bang you. Things were fine until MtGirl and I were introduced to the 10%... a large blonde girl whose massive white cleavage was impossible to ignore against the darkness of the room and her clothes. Even more so when she approached our booth carrying my soup, leaved over towards me and in a deep sultry voice proclaimed, "Here's your chilli." That line became the quote of the night.

MtGirl was pissed. It seemed that display was a cap on a rough week for her at work, and she wanted to get drunk quick. She was insisting on some froo-foo drink and nothing on the drink menu seemed to suffice. I finally told our hot waitress to mix MtGirl a drink I came up with in college. It was a shot of Southern Comfort, a shot of Peach Schnapps, mixed in cranberry juice. I called it a "Southern Hospitality**." She drank it and loved it. We then learned from the bartender it is actually known as a variant on a "Liquid Valium." Then MtGirl ordered six more. And a shot of Liquid Cocaine, which tastes strangely just like a Third Reich (Goldschlager, Jagermeister, and Rumpelmintz).

About 40 minutes later, MtGirl is bouncing off the walls, and hitting on random guys to try to make me jealous. Given that I was planning to stick her with the bill if she did anything too stupid, her plans to rouse me failed - and then the violence started. I kinda lost it, and turned from laid-back-going-to-get-laid Coletrain into don't-fuck-with-me Coletrain. After she saw the change, she wanted to go home, and I made sure she got there fine, without following her inside. Which worked out, because she ended up puking all night and next morning. Awesome.

If I knew I was going to be having this much fun, I would have went downtown with the Florida folks.

*Bonus points to whoever can get the reference.
**In case you are reading this, did the Valium/Southern Hospitality effect you the same way?

Temptations

I found another one!

St. Patty's Day usually is a very interesting time for me. This year was a little different. I stayed at home Friday night for a couple reasons. First, I had a fencing tournament on Saturday morning. Second, I am going through a tough breakup with Labatt Blue as a beer of choice. I had "The Blue" charged with domestic violence after I ended up blowing chunks for three hours after only three 16oz cans. The hangover I understood - the projectile vomiting has to stop.

Saturday was a bit better - I got railed in one event (read more here), and took a nap before going to a private party in Buckhead. There I met some interesting folks - including retirees, my friend's ex-girlfriend, a cute real estate agent who is on Hot or Not, and most importantly a tall pretty Danish girl who bares a striking resemblence to my ex from Indiana.

As I was listening to my friend's ex blather on about her running schedule, my eyes locked on to HotDane's as she strolled into the apartment with her friends. She smiled back brightly as I smiled at her, and ended up talking to some random guy. I didn't want to be anxious, but I didn't want to delay either. As soon as it was appropriate, I got out of the boring conversation I was in, and worked my way across the room, finally meeting HotDane on the balcony. She was still relatively new to the US, but she spoke great English, was relatively intelligent, and friendly. The only thing holding her back was the two kids and the husband at home.

I was a bit shocked when she said she was married. I don't know many married women who wear jeans with a rip just below the left asscheek so you can see its tone and color. Everything in me said this girl was ready to rock and roll - all she needed was someone to help her make music. And for the first time in a long time, I was willing to ignore her ring and do a rendition of "Doin' It Well." Eventually I let her go, and she went home soon after - ostensibly to take care of her children.

I am pretty good about avoiding the whole adultery thing - a) because it is wrong and b) what goes around comes around. But that experience made me wonder, is there a non-celebrity/pornstar woman out there who can make me say fuck it - I will worry about the crazed husband later?

Coolio Is Better Than You

Never thought you would wish for me...

Most new hip hop fucking sucks. I don't even know what gets radio play down here, because as soon as I turn the station to hip hop - I get a cacophony of crap that makes crazy Mexican love songs on ciento cinco punto siete sound like angels. What happened to verses and a chorus, or I don't know, an attempt to make music? Let's create a song, not just "lay a mauhfukin track."

Remember "Gangster's Paradise?" This song was a ballad about a troubled young man who was tough as hell but still realized his mortality. Remember this?

As I walk through the valley of the shadow of death
I take a look at my life and realize there's nothing left.

This is a great use of one of the most beautiful phrases in the Bible, turned from hope to dispair. Check out this one.

But I ain't never crossed a man that didn't deserve it.
Me be treated like a punk, you know that's unheard of,
You better watch how you talkin, and where you walkin
Or you and your homies might be lined in chalk.

Have you ever been threatened so eloquently? If Shakespeare was a ganster rapper - I wonder if he could improve on this.

Even Coolio's party song "1,2,3,4" from the same album was better than the crap playing now. It sucks because most of the good hip hop came out in the late 80s and was about done in the late 90s. Back when I was in college - when Next or Monifah or Ginuwine came over the speakers - everybody, and I mean everybody was bumping and grinding. Nowadays, I go to some of the big clubs in here - and no one who isn't half in the bag is on the dance floor. Why? The music sucks.

Lack of Class, Lots of Fun

When I lived in Indianapolis, I was a fan of a nice martini bar called Nicky Blaine's. At the time, Nicky Blaine's was located just off Indy's downtown Memorial Circle in the cleverly named King Cole building. It was a genteel place with dark walls, low lighting, and the faint hint of cigars and a light sweet sense of perfume from the gorgeous waitstaff. The martinis there were well mixed, the clientele were high class, and if you did happen to order one of their quality cigars, you were in for a rare treat.

After making your selection from the cigar list, a slender, slinky woman dressed in all black returned with a small tray. Carefully she took the chosen cigar and cut it in front of us. In the darkness of the bar her face and frame exploded in soft light as she struck a match, and lit a small flat piece of wood. She then took the burning wood, and slowly lit the cigar, careful to rotate it in an even burn as my friends and I looked on hungrily. After the cigar is fully lit - she finally presented it to us.

Nicky Blaine's was the ultimate destination for my friends coming through to Indy, especially guys from Wash U and my days in politics. Whenever we went we would dress up in nice slacks, jackets, some ties - and we just barely fit in with the older more monied crowd who filled the place.

So when I was invited to an event at Dailey's in Atlanta that promised cigars, martinis and good times - I was excited. Unfortunately, Dailey's is no Nicky Blaine's. While the martinis there are very good, the service is horrible, and the folks there - while nice, didn't excude the class I was expecting when I threw on a jacket and slacks to head out. Being the only one not in jeans made me feel like the old man in the club, never mind I was the youngest guy in the group.

While I was disappointed as I sat down, I felt better as I finished my first 007 martini and the group I was with started a game of "I Never." "I Never" is the one drinking game that must be played with bisexuals, gays, and the polyamorous - simply because the pure heterosexual experience only has so much interesting scenarios. And of course, "I Never" always turns to sex. The strangest thing was that there were two girls - a redhead and a blonde - who at first glance seem pretty, but introverted and a bit nerdy, yet they have had some of the wildest sexual experiences I have heard in a while. Like a threesome in an airplane bathroom. Then again, these girls remained relatively tame the entire evening.

However, this evening brought up the question I have been asking myself for a while. Where are the bars and lounges where people dress up, dance, and just hang out - rather than wearing the uniform of expensive jeans and stripped shirts?

Five Nightlife Activities More Fun Than Making It Rain

I could do better than that.

Pacman Jones is in trouble. And according to his family, he just has a habit of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. At nearly 24, he is already involved in an nearly deadly shooting, among other craziness as he tries to settle in the NFL.

While I am sure Pacman has a lot of personal issues to resolve, I am willing to take his family at his word - that he is around the wrong kind of people and just doesn't know how to have some fun without getting into trouble.

Given that I am a 27 year old single black man in Atlanta, I can be a bit of a mentor to Pacman Jones. My sights aren't on playing in the NFL, but I've never been a witness/suspect in a shooting either. But young guys are supposed to have fun - so here are five things that Pacman could do with his millions without getting into trouble. My brother, this is for you.

1. Keep your $81K on your debit card, not in a Hefty bag. The last time I saw $81,000 was on a tax return (definitely not my bank account) - so even I wouldn't have had the restraint seen in the above video not to snatch at money floating all around. You want to impress your friends at a strip club? Use your cash to reserve the VIP spot, and get lap dances all around... Depending on the reputation of the club, the more respectful you are to the girls (and the more money you have) the more the girls are willing to do besides just wiggle. Everyone - patrons, girls, owners - leaves with a smile on their face. My friends and I have done it for MUCH less than what Pacman pays in sales tax.

2. Use a car service. Drinking and driving is a huge problem, but it really burns me when rich people do it. Most major cities have private car services, or at least you can arrange them with limo groups in town. They don't cost terribly more than a cab - and the cars give you an air of class and make you look more generous than you are (that means more girls). I use them in NYC and DC, and it makes me come off as a pimp. And I have never had a DUI.

3. Work a nightclub's VIP room. The problem with Pacman is not that he is a thug, but he has the thug types with him. If you really have to have your best friend from third grade who never made it around - hook him up in the VIP. Free drinks, and a message for the bouncer that only hot girls and your friends get to move in and out freely. If I know anything at all, there is nothing that soothes the savage beast like a drunken hottie. Just make sure she is down to clown, or this idea might get you on the news as well. After the club closes, move the party to a hotel or something. I've done it, it works, it gets wild.

4. Hang out with just me, myself, and I. Everyone needs room to breathe, as do you. Depending on the city, you might get recognized - but if you abandon the "security" you will have a much better time relaxing. And hey, if you make it out to a classy bar and a cute lady chats you up, well - you might have a surprisingly good evening without involving the police. I travel for work and have done this in cities across the West... awesome.

5. Just like Kid 'n Play... House Party. There are three things you need to have to make this work: a great location, plenty of drinks and food, and a tight guest list. Location is important... you are always better off renting a secluded house and paying some Hefty bag money to have it professionally cleaned when you are done. Make sure to have plenty of booze so that no one get rowdy, and plenty of food so no one dies from alcohol poisoning. I would limit the contraband if I were you. Lastly, the guest list... you are a popular guy, so keep it tight. This is your opportunity to make a (good) name for yourself - so be VERY selective. If you get a reputation for throwing great parties, you can use this as leverage to invite reporters so they will write more favorable stories about you. House parties are always the most fun parties bar none, which is why so many college fraternities have them, and adults go out of their way to plan them. For someone with $81,000 to literally throw around - it is a way to have the best time possible, improve your image, and stay out of trouble. Hey, its how I roll...

Best of luck!

"Dance" Clubs Are Pointless

Waste of time...? Probably.

Last Saturday I committed to going to Cosmopolitan/Lava Lounge for a friend's birthday celebration. I was on the verge of backing out because a) this friend has been flaky as of late, and b) Cosmo/Lava isn't the best venue for a party. For the non-ATLiens, Cosmo/Lava are two clubs joined together. Cosmo is a venue with a small dancefloor attached to an open air bar area, which has loud crappy music and inattentive bartenders. Lava Lounge is a small weakly lit and relaxing scene with an upstairs VIP area and a dark basement bar. Lava Lounge is a great place to meet new people of ill repute - while Cosmo is a great place to be if you are already smashed.

Unlike Twisted Taco, or even Leopard Lounge, I have rarely seen things get really wild at this place. The problem is that Cosmo/Lava bills itself as a dance club - but there are too many people and no good music to really dance to in any recognizable style; but there are too few people to do anything really ridiculous and wild without making the girls self-conscious. Maybe it is a product of me getting older, or just the fact that I am regaining some amount of shame - but I don't see the point in boogie (defined as shaking around, no contact) dancing with girls I don't know. Going to a latin club and doing a little salsa or reggaeton, or doing the bump and grind anywhere is acceptable, of course.

One of these days I am going to do a full review of every dance club in Buckhead/Midtown. This necessarily means I will have to go to Club 112 (one tweezy), in which case I will need to have backup.

Countdown To Brazil - 2008

I'm waiting... (Courtesy:eXile)

Nothing says exotique and uninhibited like the adjective Brazilian. Getting a kiss and a free drink isn't much from a normal lesbian... from a Brazilian lesbian, it is a sexy treat. Hanging out with slutty American girls on an overnight ferry to Ibiza isn't much of a story. Meeting up with the Brazilians later is a lot better. Search Google Images and you will find thousands of pictures of brown skinned beauties with no hint of pretension and full of life.

Sure, Brazil has its problems, but it is in South America - a place where only men in audacious uniforms and a penchant for exotic executions can keep order. Hell, South America is home of the pro-life Catholic execution. That's where the junta, or paramilitary, or who ever you pissed off with access to a helicopter flies you over the Andes and pushes you out the door. How is this pro-life? Well, if God wants you to live, He would make sure you survive the landing. I'm not sure of the numbers, but from what I heard no one has come back alive with a divine pardon.

Bringing the crew back on the road...

Other than the chances of getting mugged or worse, it is going to be worth the trip. The publishers of the infamous NoMarriage.com have endorsed Brazil as a top destination, and every Brazilian I have met here in the states has been awesome (as well as longs for home.)

The plan is to head out to some of the major cities like Forteleza, Florianapolis, Rio, et al. I will have updates as plans develop.

The Great Football Idea - Post Mortem

Looks like the clothes are staying on till next season. Riigght...

No one thought it would ever happen. And they were right. For the completely wrong reasons.

If you remember, my friends and I at an ATL bar came up with a harebrained scheme early last year to recruit girls from bars and the internet to serve as hostesses for our football parties in the fall. In the early going the theory was that the recruiting would be the toughest part, but once the girls are in place... everything would be cake. In the worst case scenario, we would be shot down and gets some great laughs (and even segue into something better), and the best case scenario would be success. Never before have I seen so many guys afraid in the face of success.

The MySpace Group page took off... and there were enough girls who looked like they might actually do this thing. (We were only looking for a max of six. ) Same thing with the Craigslist.org stuff, Yahoo! Personals, and Meet Me @ Hot or Not sites. And that's when we started hitting snags. One guy, who had a big screen, took his condo out of the running for possible sites for the party. Another, his girlfriend had moved in and nixed his place as well. My water heater exploded from too much pressure from a water main and flooded most of my 1st floor. (Insurance didn't cover the damage, so I got raped as well as denied.) That left only one viable place in town that could support such a party, and thankfully he was still in - for the time being.

Thankfully, it was Dennis' idea in the first place to organize all this - so things were cool. That is until Dennis uncovered the phenomenon that is internet dating (just like Columbus discovered America... it was always there). Not only did he find girls who were willing to take their tops off just because we said so, the ones that weren't willing wanted to date him! So then we go from discussions of how many girls are on board to which girl called for phone sex. Others he met for actual dates - in addition to the MySpace girls we met out to discuss the proposition. Eventually this activity got out among his female friends - who then went on a hunt to find him a real girlfriend.

This particular move led to an interesting situation. While all this was going on, I was seeing a girl I met at a wine bar in Smyrna. She was a bit older and a recently divorced single mother - but I am a sucker for redheads. She also taught at the local college, so being able to discuss Style Guides and sex at the same time was kinda cool. Guess what pretty redhead English professor with cute glasses was talking to Dennis about the topless thing. Yeah, figures. I knew something was up when I sent her an email and hadn't heard back in a couple days - and then Dennis mentions the redhead on the Meet Me page. I go to verify, and then call her from Dennis' phone. Klassi. Apparently she wasn't serious about Dennis persay, but she wanted to play the field, after all she was recently divourced. This whole enterprise was starting to get weird.

While all this was going on, I was in and out of town for work, fencing, volunteer events, and other things - while other male members of the team were out when I was in town. So even if every man was on board - there were only 4-5 weekends in the regular season were we could assemble a full team (or even have the guys outnumber the topless girls). Finally, as bowl season (and our last chance) approached, I heard this line and many variations.

I gotta be honest. I was all for this whole deal when I knew there was no way in hell it would come together. Now that I know that it is going to happen, I am really scared. I do have a girlfriend after all.

After that bold/sissy statement, that was the end. Dennis put title (no land) on his girlfriend, Jake put both land and title (a ring) on his new fiance's finger, and I hooked up with some random for a couple days.

Once I get my floors replaced (sometime late winter/early spring), I may poll some of my younger less attached friends. After all, there is still interest on the women's side.

Eugenics, Dysgenics, and Body Shots

Hey baby, let me ride...

Sometimes I think were it not for my Christian upbringing, I would have evolved into some Genghis Khan type character. You know... the strong, silent type. Of course, when you are riding at the front of an angry and horny Mongol horde, and the object of your temporary affection is watching her husband and sons run for their lives - there really isn't any need to say much. This is pretty much how Genghis Khan got his women - he is famous for saying the best thing in life is to "vanquish your enemies, to chase them before you, to rob them of their wealth, to see those dear to them bathed in tears, to clasp to your bosom their wives and daughters.” Talk about a little less conversation and a lot more action! Thanks to that attitude, one out of every four men in Asia is a direct descendant of The Great Khan, and they may be all better for it. After all, the man who conquered a good bit of the known world, introduced diplomatic immunity to the world, and establised international trade practices still in use today couldn't afford to be dumb.

Making the world smarter (with my penis), one girl at a time!


Unfortunately, guys like Bill Gates, Sam Walton, or even Sir Richard Branson - corporate emperors all - didn't ravish the countryside raping every woman in sight and having hundreds of kids during the nineties. If you look at the declining birthrate in industrial nations vs. the birth rate in the Third World - you might see this as a problem. The non-ravishing that is.

All this actually came up last night, a Tuesday night, at a tequila bar in Atlanta. I was speaking with a girl from Michigan who has become a bit of a dysgenicist after 25 years in the Greater Detroit area. 8MileGirl subscribes to the idea that the Roman Empire fell because the smart and monied folks couldn't breed enough or outbreed the idiots/poor in the realm due to lead poisoning and other reasons. The lead issue has been thrown around awhile, but factors like decadence and dependence on foreign sources for soldiers and other infrastructure were the man reasons I learned the Empire fell. Nati was a classics major, so he would have a more definitive answer.

Yes, if I was in charge...

Of course all this is boring compared to (well, anything, but also) 8MileGirl's solution to the problem - sterilize the idiots. Rather than run into Nazi comparisons by making it compulsory, you offer long lasting yet temporary birth control paid for by the state (or Planned Parenthood) for free. And you would give $100 to the girls as a thank you. Since you would get murdered in the press if you went around offering birth control to only degenerates and crackwhores - you would have to make it available to everyone, including college girls who in all honesty would probably benefit society more (comparatively, of course) by getting pregnant.

All this hinges on the idea that intelligence, and the will to wield it, is hereditary. One need only turn on a TV set to know that isn't true. Conrad Hilton, a smart and industrious member of my fraternity built a hotel empire. His great-granddaughter is a racist idiot. Former President George H.W. Bush was a fighter pilot in World War II, a director of the CIA, and laid the smackdown on Saddam and Iraq with no significant loss of American life. President George W. Bush... well you get my drift. We all hope our children will be smarter than us - but even in the best of families in the best of environments - intelligence is a role of the die. You can only hope for your kids to be at least above a dropping average, and train them to make the most of it.

Even though the whole dysgenics thing is kinda dumb, one thing is for certain... If you aren't growing (as a population), you are dying. The main reason why we eat more agricultural products instead of hunted products is because farming produces more food and leaves more time for pumping out kids. Forget intelligence, raw numbers alone are alarming enough.

So while this discussion took place and I was rubbing 8MileGirl's leg, our waitress was letting her co-workers take body shots off her very slim stomach - and another girl was stripping and flashing for her friends. In a normal bar/restaurant, on a Tuesday night in ATL. And apparently every Tues night is like this. I am definitely going back. This little vignette has nothing to do with the rest of the post except for this one point... the waitress has a little girl.

Sales Guys Are Dangerous

Prospecting meeting


Most of my friends are pretty level-headed. I never attracted bad apples to my inner circle - naughty apples certainly, nasty bananas to be sure, and drunking sluts - but never actual bad apples. The closest quasi bad apple was this male nurse from Fiji who used to bang married female nurses two at a time and actually picked up a waitress at Hooter's (no foolin', I was there). Apparently, the key is to avoid hitting on the servers, and go straight for the older bartender at the front. Sure she might be a little older than the 20 year olds on the floor, but they are very attention starved.

So whenever I go out and hit on or hook up with random girls, my level headed friends give me the spiel about getting an STD, or getting a girl pregnant, or catching women in a net. Miss Daisy and MadAngler are certainly part of that chorus. The exception is the sales guys. Sales guys are some of the most sex obsessed people I know. From the hot thirtysomething blonde who felt me up on a plane in college, to my first corporate boss who always asked me if I got laid that particular weekend (and claimed he could tell by looking), to the guys I hung out with last week wanting to know my threesome experiences (hilarious, that's all I am saying) - these guys are like jackrabbits.

Last Saturday at the resort bar (at the FL conference, see below), I am getting drunk and an older sales guy points out an attractive, but drunk blonde in a little black dress. He wants me to go after her, yet I want to continue to have a job. I refuse, and he asks why? I am still single, but I told him I really don't want my business out in the street. He retorts that any success I have can only help my cause. So, in that spirit, I walk over and chat her up. She is really drunk, and was ready to leave - but I talk her into hanging out a bit as she leans on me smiling. Of course a large man looks over my way and she goes, "My husband is going to be so pissed off..." Lovely.

I wander back and give a little report in traditional weekend business speak, "The drunk bitch was married." And yet at least four guys and one girl made a point to compliment me on my attempt. I always thought that this kind of stuff was reserved for wild clubs and bars, and the college life that I am still trying to leave behind. But this example, and others that my older sales friends related to me show that in sales it is all about prospecting, getting the meeting, and closing the deal. Apparently this philosophy works in business and the social life.

Surprisingly, I don't know any single/divourced sales guys over 40. Maybe there is hope for me yet.

More Palm Coast - Hatin' On New Moms

Like drinking a golden shower.

There are two things that I will never be and am glad for it - white, and a mother. At my business meeting in central FL, I learned a lot about my American/German/Aussie/English co-workers - especially one who had a kid. She is one of those new moms who married early, but still danced on tables whenever she got the opportunity. Only now that she has a little one she feels the need to clean up her act. And on this particular trip, she feels bad when ever she sees or even hears of a baby because she is so far from her own.

Knowing this, was it bad that I ordered the veal chop and referred to it as "baby cow?" Or was it insensitive to describe how the calf is fattened from birth for the slaughter, and mention that I hope it was fed A1 steak sauce out of a baby bottle? Honestly, I don't know. Sometimes I go too far. Like I was talking about how I hated Sam Adam's Cranberry Lambic because it tasted like cranberries boiled in piss. This same mom interjected that she loved the Lambic, and I asked her if she was into golden showers too...

In my defense, I was lit and I didn't care.

Word From Palm Coast, FL

Just like the Special Olympics.

I haven't been posting much lately since I am here at a software users conference in Central FL. The event is being held at a resort/condo complex - which basically equals a place that has all the comforts of a home you can't afford, and none of the hot babes that tend to run around Florida resorts. I am a bit sad because my heart is in Miami with the Spain Train and all the girls there who can hook me up with tickets to the Penthouse party on Saturday.

However, the advantage to a user conference is that we need to keep the customers and prospects engaged and happy - and if that means plying them with alcohol and expensive cigars, than so be it. I love a good cigar, but being drunk on a Tuesday and Wednesday night with no available women in sight just seems like a waste. Well, there were a couple - which is just as good as zero. A given woman is usually completely safe if she is surrounded by a gaggle of horny men - just as long as those men aren't into running train or gang rape.

One bright spot was tonight in Saint Augustine. After dinner, we wandered over to a dive bar and ran into a couple reasonable looking local chicks there. As all 25 of us strolled in, the fact that those girls focused on the number of good looking guys and not the sheer number of us filling the bar let me know they were in play. It looked like I was in business until we noticed two guys on either side of a table with some sort of referee in between. I wasn't sure until I saw the ads everywhere, but then I knew.

We ran into a Rock Paper Scissors competition. Don't get me wrong, I loved this game back in third grade when I still hated girls and loved math. But a full on RPS competition is just like the Special Olympics - even if you win, you are still retarded. So imagine how bad I felt when I lost in the first round! This, added to the fact I was still stone sober after drinking six Mojitos (mostly mint and water, now I think about it), and I was pretty surly all evening.

Corporate entertaining has its place - and I need to get to know and bond with my co-workers, but at the same time... it still feels like work. Hard work. I can suck it up and play friendly for one night, or even two nights in a row. But being new guy on night three, while the regulars get to make dirty sex jokes with the cute Aussie girls, while I bristle at the thought of my Grrl Power boss ripping my balls off if I say something stupid is too much to ask at my current salary level. Maybe I read too much War Nerd, but I think there has got to be more to life than just being a salaryman who enjoys a junket or two.

You Can Find Me In Saint Lou-e

It's that time again. That idyllic time where I forget that I work an 8-6pm office job and I revert back to the strange guy who is passed out on the living room couch. Yep, gonna visit my fraternity for alumni weekend.

I have no clue on the final roster of people who are coming - and I can't guarantee pictures. But these events always have a way of becoming a lot crazier than ever expected. After all, I first met DutchGirl during last year's alumni weekend after I forgot my pants. If I happen to meet another foreign-born blonde with a nice body who approaches me in the middle of the night and will do anything I say - forget tact, I'm going for it. Like Ludacris, or Nate Dogg. After all, that was what Dutchgirl wanted all along.

If you are going to be around as well - hit me up.