“I Don’t”

 

This is an article I found while browsing some news websites.  It’s about marriage, or, more specifically, how is it no longer relevant:

The case against marriage.

While I don’t agree with everything the article says, it is an excellent read and confirms a few trends I had noticed over the last couple of years.  Since I am currently working on my Austin Vs. San Diego articles I promised you guys, I don’t have time to go into detail about the article or my personal feelings on marriage.  I do, however, plan on posting an article about my personal feelings on marriage eventually.  Until then, I recommend you guys check out “I Don’t,” especially if you’re single and worried about tying the knot.

Oops!

 

Some of you guys may have noticed that a post I had recent put up is now missing.  That’s because it violated one of the rules I had set up for this blog.  When I decided to start this blog, I promised myself I wouldn’t get political.  Why?  Because quite frankly I think there are too many political blogs out there and most of them spew the exact same rhetoric.  The words and writers may be different, but all of them are expressing the same opinions regarding a certain party or cause.  As original as I think I am, it would be impossible for me to give a political opinion that hasn’t already been articulated by someone else.

Stories, on the other hand, are unique.  Sure, everyone has a story about the time they went to beach or got caught doing something they should have been doing; but the details of that story are unique to the person writing it.  Even two people involved in the same event will have different accounts of it.  Before the start of this blog, I had written a story about a night out I had with one of my friends.  The friend had also written a story about night and even though we had described the same events, our interpretations of them were extremely different.  No matter what their background is, everyone can enjoy a good story.

Politics, on the other hand, are a very sensitive subject.  It doesn’t take long for you to say something that antagonizes half of your audience.  Even people who lean the same direction as you will find away to knock you out of the circle with whatever arbitrary label they can invent to separate “them” from “you.”  While I am not afraid of antagonizing people, it’s not something I want to do through this blog.

Before I get spammed with e-mails calling me a “pussy,” I didn’t pull the article because of an influx of hatemail (I have yet to receive any regarding the article) or some other form of backlash.  I pulled it because when you post one political article it becomes much easier to post another.  After all, the blog has already been tainted so what will one more stain do?  I’d rather keep my blog pure.

Coming Soon: Remember when I stated I had an article about the differences between Austin and San Diego in the works?  Expect to see it next week!

“You Don’t Have that Desperate Vibe”

 

When I first started using Meetup.com, I thought it was the most awesome thing in the world.  Finally a place where I could hit on more than just club girls.  The first meet-up I ever went to was smooth sailing. I even went home with a girl that night.  I had finally found perfection.  The downside of perfection, however, is that it doesn’t exist.  No matter how good something is, the other shoe will always drop. Meetup.com was no exception.

After two or three Meetups at different groups, you start to pick up on the general population of the people who congregate these events: the desperate and the sexless.  Most of the men who go to these events have absolutely no game.  I’m not talking about your average “I get lucky once in awhile” type guy.  These are the kind of guys who are over the hill, have multiple social ticks, and probably haven’t seen female genitalia since their moms gave birth to them.  But when you consider the kind of women who go to these events, it doesn’t surprise me that they would attract these kinds of guys.  Almost all of these women are older (aged 30+ with the median closer to 40), and like most single women that age they come with a number of issues.

If you’re lucky, the woman you choose—or chooses you, as tend to happen at these things—has only minor problems.  One woman I had been flirting with at an event in February had a great personality, seemed emotionally stable, and a cute face, but had obviously spent more time at McDonalds than the gym. Why was I flirting with her?  Drinking nothing but Bacardi 151 for two hours can do that to you. Sadly, she was one of the best looking girls at the event.

Other women made train wrecks look like clean operations.  I had a conversation with two older women who could nothing but bitch about this other woman’s breasts.  [Backstory: During the comedy act beforehand, a woman in the front row had huge breasts.  Every comedian took notice of this and made jokes at her expense, making her the center of attention.]  We could never get a consensus on whether they were real or fake, but what was painfully obvious was the animosity these two ladies had toward a woman they didn’t know simply because she was more “gifted” than they were.  The two bitchy women had fake breasts, something they readily admitted. Chances are the two women were just jealous that a woman got more attention from people than they did after paying all that money to assuage their insecurities.  I quickly got as far away from them as possible.

That’s pretty much a summary of every “social” Meetup event.  I thought a Meetup.com event limited to people in their 20’s and 30’s would be a little better, I was certainly right about the “little” part.

I wasn’t expecting anything but a change of scenery when I arrived at the house party toting an unopened bottle of Bacardi 151. I had been hitting up Moondoggies almost every weekend and wanted to do something new. Since I hadn’t been to a house party in awhile, I figured it would something different to try.

After introducing myself to the host and handing him the bottle. He thanked me for finally bringing strong liquor and started to make the Jungle Juice. After uniting with my friend, [Gus], the guy I met at the first Meetup.com event I ever went to, the two of us went upstairs to check out the rest of the party.

Like I expected, most of the guys were in their 20s and most of the women were in their 30s. It was Meetup.com, after all. The first thing I did was start up a conversation with hottest girl at the party (8.5/10). It turns out both of us had a “zest for living,” which gave us something to bond on. She told me about her time in Boulder, Colorado back when she was a student there. The elaborated on the beauty of mushrooms and the benefits of mixing pot with winter sports. In exchange, I told her about Austin. I told her about the heaven known as Sixth Street, where the bars were free and the drinks were cheap. Seven days a week, a man could get wasted for less than $20, something that can only be done in certain places San Diego. Like with most beautiful women at Meetup.com events who are fun to talk to, there was always a catch. The catch took the form of a boyfriend of eight years who was not above fighting people. (I would later hear that he had been kicked out for pinning a guy up against the wall and strangling him). So I took the interesting stories she had given me and moved on.  No woman, no matter how hot, is worth fighting over.

One of the other people I had talked to, [Brad], was in the military and had spent two years in Rotterdam, Netherlands. He was one of the most interesting people I talked to that night, and the source of the title of this story. Both us were talking about many of the major Meetup.com Groups in San Diego and the drawbacks of Meetup.com in general. One group in particular—I will not name it here, but anyone who is familiar with the Meetup.com scene can figure it out—dominated the conversation. This group had been around for five years, was very large, and co-operated with an even larger group that the founder helped organize. The end result was being with bombarded with so many event e-mails it bordered on spam. The founder was a cool person, but the meet-ups had the same problem most of the other ones did. Namely, the desperation of the attendants.

Brad: The problem with the events is that most of the women there are older and desperate. Cougars, basically.

Me: I’ve noticed. At least the age cap on this event lowers the number a bit.

Brad: True, but you can still look around and see how desperate many of these people are, especially the guys.

Me: [I looked around. He was right.] Yeah, I can definitely see that.

Brad: You don’t have that desperate vibe, which puts you ahead of most of the guys here.

Me (laughing): Thanks.

After tlaking with Brad, I struck up a decent conversation with a cute (7.5/10) Asian girl who turned out to be a nurse.  While she enjoyed talking to me, it became painfully clear after a while that my age was going to be an issue.  Most of the people who come to Meetup events are looking for a hook-up.  They want to find a guy or girl, take them home, and bang them until dawn.  Not this girl, she was looking for a boyfriend and didn’t want to date someone three years younger than her (22 vs. 25).

It was the nature of the beast. Meetup.com would always be filled with an older crowd, even events for people in their 20s and 30s. Sure, they would be younger than most other groups, but they still had a few years on me. It didn’t just extend to the party groups, either.  I went to a Meetup event for writers and was the youngest one there by at least ten years.  The reason was obvious. Most of the people my age were still in college, and college is the best place for social gathering in existence.  Older people, on the other hand, no longer had access to a college campus so they had to rely on alternative methods of social networking.  This is the same reason why the people on dating sites tended to be 24 or older.

I left the party around 1 AM after getting the number of this cute female painter (I have a weakness for artists).  Overall, it was an okay experience.  It’s not the party, it’s the association.  Meetup.com is just not made for people my age.  Even in the 20s-30s group, I was still among the youngest while in a college setting I’d be about mid-range. Most people take five years to graduate nowadays and due to the economic collapse of 2008, most of my peers attended grad or law school to wait out the bad times.  That leaves those of us in the middle to find our own place in the world.  Meetup.com is not mine.  It will do in a pinch, but I will look to satisfy my social needs elsewhere.  Besides, if the hottest girl at a party is only 8.5/10 and she’s the only one, you need to find a better venue.

Updates Coming Soon

 

Hey all!

I hope you liked my April Fool’s update.

I’ve been really busy with life lately and thus haven’t had the chance to do any major updates.  At the beginning of the month, I was busy moving into my new place (which I love).  Then I got bogged down with the other, more serious, writing projects I am working on.  Now I’m wrapped up reading a bunch of new books I bought on Amazon.com.

That said, I have a new stories and articles in the works.  The one I’m going to post next deals with San Diego.  Expect it to come out this weekend.

Before I go, I would like to mention one thing: I agree with Jim Carrey’s Twitter update about Elin Woods.  Chances are she did know something was going on. Why do I believe this?  Because Elin is not stupid.  There are ways to tell when your man has been getting some from outside sources.  One example being a normally horny man who is not battling depression or any other sort of mental disorder sudden has a sharp and pro-longed decrease in his sex-drive.  If he was a one-blowjob-per-day guy six months ago but now can go days without even seeing you naked, he’s getting action from someone else.

I’m not saying what Tiger did was right, I’m saying that Elin wasn’t anywhere close to being as blindsided as the media painted her to be.

Best Night Ever!!!!

 

Last night started out good and only got better. At around 7 PM my friends Duncan, Lucas, and Wendy all showed up at my new apartment for some drinks. I poured us some shots made with SKYY and Bacardi Silver. After we all had a shot glass in our hand, Lucas proposed a toast.

Me: What are we toasting to?
Lucas: Masturbation, retard sex, and toilet humor!
Duncan (who had arrived drunk): HELL YEAH!
Wendy: Eww, toilet humor! You guys are gross.

After a few more drinks, we piled into Duncan’s Hummer and started heading toward the Gaslamp Quarter. Duncan got behind the wheel, Lucas took shotgun, Wendy and I got in the back. I turned it on the TV in the back and flipped to the Disney Channel—because that’s how I roll. After a couple of minutes, Bill Nye the Science Guy came on. Everyone who’s hung out with me knows what’s coming next.

Me: One, two, three, BILL NYE!
Duncan: BILL NYE!
Lucas: BILL NYE!
Wendy: Bill Nye?
Me: You said it last! That means you have to give oral sex to the person sitting next to you!
Wendy: What? I’ve never heard of that rule!
Lucas: Ignorance of the law is no excuse.
Duncan: ROAD HEAD! ROAD HEAD!
Me [while unzipping my fly]: Hey, I don’t make the rules, I just obey them.
Wendy: I don’t know about this…
Lucas: Come on, show us how bisexual you really are!
Wendy: Okay, I’ll do it. Just promise you won’t fall in love with me. [She reached into my unzipped pants and pulled out my penis.]
Me: I don’t think you have to worry about [Wendy started sucking my dick] ooooooooh yeaaaaaaah!

Wendy claimed to be bisexual, but we had only seen her hook up with other girls. Her being a closet lesbian was the subject of many jokes between the four of us. Though we would never admit it, we all believed she was bisexual; it was something we had taken on faith, until last night. Now we didn’t have to take it on faith anymore. Not only did she suck me off, but she gave me one of the best blowjobs I’ve ever had. The world needs more bisexual women.

After I had finished (she swallowed) we all started swapping stories. (According to her, my cum tasted like honey.)

I told them about my first Mardi Gra.

Me:…never had I been so happy to be cock-blocked!
Duncan: DAMN!
Lucas: You are a far greater man than me.
Wendy: Never underestimate a fat girl in heat!

Lucas told us about the time he put his dick in a girl’s butt and it got stuck.

Lucas: I don’t know what was worse: having to explain the situation to the doctor, or having the whole waiting room laugh at me.
Me: You should write a story and title it “In Support of Lube: a Cautionary Tale.”
Duncan: When you say you stuck it in her ass, you really STUCK IT IN HER ASS!
Wendy: Her asshole must have been microscopic!
Me: BURN!
Duncan: SMALL COCK! SMALL COCK! YOU CAN’T SEE IT HERE WITHOUT A MAGNIFIYING GLASS NEAR!

Duncan told us an incoherent story involving an elderly woman and his sex organs.

Duncan:…and she said that was the first good thing to ever happen to her since becoming a hobo 40 years ago.

There was a long, awkward silence.

Wendy: I once voted in an election.

The three of us guys erupted in laughter.

Me: Yeah right, and I’m a member of Ku Klux Klan!
Lucas: Next you’ll be trying to tell us you can drive!
Duncan: THERE AIN’T NO POLLING PLACE IN THE KITCHEN!
Wendy: Fuck you!
Me: With me you’re already three-fourths of the way there.

All four of us were laughing for the rest of the drive. We finally made it downtown. Even though we crashed into a light post, it didn’t matter because were IN STATE!

We walked into Old Sausage, one of the many rooftop bars downtown. From the moment we stepped out of the elevator, it was painfully clear we weren’t going to be staying for long. Of the hundred or so people in the place only three of them were women. We all walked up to the bar and sat down.

Bartender: What can I get you guys?
Lucas [pointing to Wendy]: My friend here is bisexual so do we get half off if she orders all our drinks?
Bartender: What?
Lucas: Sorry. I figured with all the men here it was “Gays Drink Free” night.

We were asked to leave the bar. The four of us walked down the street and got in line for E}{pensive $hithole, one of San Diego’s many overrated, overpriced, and overcrowded nightclubs. Why were we there instead of at one of the parties going on at San Diego’s many universities where the drinks were free and the girls were easy? Because if you can get laid in a nightclub, you can get laid anywhere!
After placing our cars down as collateral and passing a credit check, we were allowed to enter the club. Duncan walked up to the first hot girl he saw.

Duncan: Do you know why “science” starts with an “S?”
Girl: No?
Duncan: BECAUSE SEX DOES TOO!
[The girl smiled, took his hand, and led him to the closed off VIP section.]
Duncan [waving at us]: SEE YOU SEXLESS PANSIES LATER!
Wendy: Great, now how are we going to get home tonight?
Me: I don’t plan on going home tonight.
Lucas: Enough with the negativity, you guys are ruining my STATE!
Me: I can’t let Duncan have all the fun. [I walked toward a hot girl I had spotted.]

The hot girl in question was a beautiful blonde in a wheelchair. Since I’ve always wanted to fuck a girl who’s in a wheelchair, I wasn’t going to let this opportunity go.

Me [as I placed my hands on her shoulders and bent down so I could whisper in her ear]: I bruise easily, so be gentle when you handle me.
She smiled and touched her forehead to mine. Boom, make-out!
Me: Let’s so somewhere private.
Her: Why?
Me: So you can give me some love on wheels.
Her [while smiling]: Let’s go to the kitchen.

After I was done, I bumped in to Duncan.
Me: Where’s your girl?
Duncan: She didn’t like the Molotov Cocktail I gave her.
Me: You mean when you jizz in her eyes and shout out, “Feel the burn of my ivory napalm?”
Duncan: No, I mean when you light a bottle of alcohol on fire and POUR IT DOWN HER THROAT!
Me: How much alcohol have you had tonight?
Duncan: I stopped counting after one.
Me: One shot?
Duncan: One bottle. (He was being serious.)
Me: I’m getting far away from you.

In my quest to distance myself from the crime I knew Duncan would soon be committing, I spotted Lucas. He was hitting on a girl large enough to have her own gravitational pull. When he got drunk enough, Lucas was unable to distinguish between a woman and small planet. His nickname was “Fat Fuck” not because he was obese (he was the most in shape of all of us), but because he was known to accidentally sleep with fat women on a regular basis.

I thought about warning him, but then I remembered a lesson I learned from one of my friends. Admonishing someone in the field was a bad idea because it could lower their state. State is something as rare a platinum ore yet is as essential to running solid game as a blood transfusion is to a bleeding man. To ruin Lucas’ state would the highest of sins, so I left him to burn in the atmosphere of the planet he was making out with.

I decided to look for Wendy. As I approached the bar upstairs, I noticed a large cheering crowd had gathered around it. I fought my way to the front to find Wendy drunkenly masturbating with a shot glass. A random girl poured vodka all over Wendy’s white shirt, making her dark, Indian nipples very visible. Two guys next to her fought over Wendy’s thong. I could tell already that Wendy was going to have the best night of her life—and not remember a single second of it. But I would, and that’s what’s important for blackmail. I smiled as fought my way back out of the crowd and decided to find another girl.

And find another girl I did. She was the hottest one I had seen all night. Red hair, green eyes, black glasses, no freckles, and large breasts. She was my Perfect 10. She looked my direction and gave me “fuck me” eyes. Not much talking was necessary. Without even giving each other our names, we were in a cab driving to her place.

She lived in one of the many high-rise condos downtown. Her place was sweet. We had some wine, made-out a bit, and then it was time to go to the bedroom. We were messing around. She was stroking my exposed cock and I was sucking her exposed, perfect, pink nipples.

After a few minutes…
Her: I want to have sex with you.
Me: Then let’s do this!

She pulled off my pants, lifted up her dress, and stuck her penis in me.

50th Law Review

 

Fear. Ghosts, plane crashes, poverty, violence, music with multiple notes in the minor scales, everyone is afraid of something.
Fear is natural and if it didn't exist, humans probably wouldn't have lasted as long. In modern times however, it has become a problem.
Our society is saturated with fear.  Every day we are constantly bombarded by frivolous information that causes us to question ourselves. Are you being ripped off? Possible terrorist attack in your town! Are you eating too many [carbs, fats, proteins, ice cubes, whatever the next trendy food to hate is]? One that sticks out in my mind is the question of whether someone is or isn't a "sex addict."  There isn't even a certified definition for the term "sex addict." Yet so many people are worried their spouse/partner is one. So much power is given to a phrase that has no official meaning.

Those are all just surface issues, however.  The real problem is society as a whole holds many aspects of the fearful lifestyle as high moral truths.  “Avoid all conflict, do as you are told, and don’t rock the boat!”  These are the rules we are told to adhere to if we wish to be functional members of society, all of which are inherently fearful.  So how can one operate fearlessly with so much fear embedded into the world?  That's the question 50th Law seeks to answer, and it does that job very well.

50th Law is a book written by Robert Greene and 50 Cent. Yes, that's right. 50 Cent the rapper co-authored a book. I have to admit, I had very little respect for the guy before I read this book. I thought he was a faker trying to cash in on the fad of promoting negative racial stereotypes.  In addition to using the historical references Greene is known for, the book teaches its lessons through excerpts from 50's life.  After reading the book, I still hate 50 Cent’s music but now understand that he is anything but the faker I thought he was.

The basic premise of the book is that society lives under the tyranny of fear and by living a fearless life a person can gain power in this frightened world. True to the nature of his other books, the information is presented in steps.

The layout of each step is the same:

1. A chapter page that contains the “rule” to be explained and a small paragraph about it.

2. An excerpt from 50’s life followed by an interpretation of that excerpt.

3. A detailed explanation of the rule and how it can be applied to your life.

4. A “reversal” section in which a negative social connotation of a word or idea and the stigma associated with it is debunked and a better explanation of that word or idea is provided.

First it is noted that there is a difference between fearlessness and recklessness. Being fearless is not blindly leaping into danger or being overly aggressive.  Those are signs of insecurity and poor judgment.  Instead, being fearless is a willingness to face and overcome adversity rather than changing your life to avoid it.

The most commonly noted and criticized aspect of Greene's books is that they are amoral.  This isn't to say they are evil (immoral), but that they do not factor morality into their points. To the “proper” types in society, however, this is considered "evil."  I, on the other hand, consider it to be one of his books strongest points. When I'm reading a book, I want it to be without moral bias. Just give me the facts and let me form my own moral assumptions. Too many guidance, psychology, and self-help books try to dictate a certain moral code to you. In many cases I feel like I'm reading a sermon and not a book.

Many of the chapters point out the honest truth of many issues that society forces us to ignore, but some of them express a completely unusual way of approaching a situation. Robert Greene’s view on death is probably the most ground-breaking and lucid part of the book. For that reason, I will not spoil it by posting it here.

The quality of the writing is good but different. I was surprised to find words like "shit" in the book, but those contributions are probably due to 50 Cent's influence and considering the things you learn about keeping up an image, the cussing is expected and arguably appropriate.

The only flaws this book has are its lack of table of contents and poor characterization.  All of Greene’s others books have a detailed table of contents that allows the reader to easily navigate the book.  For example, if I wanted to refresh yourself on sexual style of the Star in Art of Seduction you were able to use the table of content to easily identify the page number.  Sometimes I won’t even need to find the page number.  The chapter listings contain a small blurb about that chapter.  If that’s all I wanted, then there is no need to look at any more of the book.  50th Law, however, doesn’t have a table of contents.  That means if I want to reread a specific section of the book or point out a specific paragraph to someone, I have to hunt for it.  That gets annoying really fast.  The book is considered to be a sequel or addendum to 48 Laws of Power. While this is technically true, 50th Law should not be read as such. The book not only effectively teaches its lesson without the help of 48 Laws of Power, but should be read first.  To paraphrase Greene, knowing all 48 laws is useless if you are too scared to apply them.  I will extend it by saying the same goes for war strategies and seduction. In fact, the points of all three of Greene's other books can be derived from 50th Law. Many of the statements in that book could easily be applied to power games, the wars of everyday life, and seduction.  None of these flaws are enough to damage my love of the book, however.

I give 50th Law a 10/10.  It’s a brilliant and insightful book, a must-read for the brave and cowardly alike.

Link to 50th Law on Amazon.

Link to Robert Greene’s website and blog.

Prison Lesbians and Quentin Tarantino…

 

…are two things I do not think of when I listen to the song “Telephone” by Lady Gaga.  Nevertheless, that’s exactly what she put in her music video for the song.  Don’t take my word for it, watch it for yourself.

I don’t know what she was trying to do with this video, but she failed miserably at it.  As original as Lady Gaga is, I would have thought she could make a captivating video that at least had something to do with the song.