Posts Tagged ‘bars’

Works everytime....

 

Do pick up lines even work? Even I think they’re corny, I can’t imagine what a girl thinks when some drunken fool spits a pick up line in her face.

 “Hey is your dad a baker? Cos you have nice buns!” hehehe

What exactly is hoping for? Seriously? Does he think that she’s just going to go “Oh my god! You are the greatest male specimen I have ever encountered!” “Not only do you have the debonair charm and wit of James Bond, but the way you got into that fight with the bouncer after puking on the dance floor is most invigorating. Please oh please make sweet love to me on this bar stool! And then allow me the honour of being the mother of your unborn child!”

 And if these pick up lines do actually work do any of those relationships ever last?

I can’t imagine if you had to ask your Mom and Dad how they met they would say “Well son, I had just been in a fight with a bouncer for throwing up everywhere, when I saw your mom in the shortest mini skirt I have ever seen…And the rest is history” “In fact I’m pretty sure that’s where you were conceived, you little bastard!”

 One of the things that scares me the most about dance clubs is when it gets towards the end of the night and the club starts emptying and you can smell the desperation in the air, it smells like sweat and rohypnol.

 At this time of the evening the body is just craving 24hour Steers or MacDonald’s, but you can actually hear some of the guys saying stuff like “Dammit its 3am! It’s burger time, I have to come right with something before the club closes!” at which point he is faced with a very troubling dilemma that has plagued mankind for centuries… do you go home alone, or drop your standards significantly!

chicks dig pandas

 And you can see these guys circling the dance floor like sharks looking for ANYTHING to eat, these sharks would be happy with the ass end of a leather boot let alone anything living. But this doesn’t scare me half as much as the “minga” chicks still there on the dance floor during this feeding frenzy. They’re dancing there thinking… “One of these guys might drop his standards significantly tonight and I might get lucky.” Some of the uglier ones are even hanging around the dance floor shaving their back then they whip out a Big Mac… here boys, here boys.

 I had a friend who had no problem with this, he used to say that every guy needs a “practice girl” and so even these girls served a purpose. Of course we called him the sexual janitor because of this, but he didn’t seem to mind. Heck his favourite pick up line was “you want grab some pizza and then have sex, or we can get something else if you don’t like pizza”

when in doubt...be honest

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So does this mean you WILL sleep with me?

The one thing that going to night clubs does help me appreciate is that if my girlfriend broke up with me I’d be completely f***ed… well not literally that’s kind of why I’m with her in the first place, but it dawned on me when I was in the club, that I have no idea how to go on dates anymore let alone pick up chicks, and my memories of doing so in the past aren’t all that great to begin with.

 First of all most of the clubs are filled with only 2 types of people, jocks and skanks. Oh and me. 3 types of people. You know jocks? With their popped collars, peroxided hair, shirt tucked just behind the belt buckle that says “GUESS” (I don’t know…small penis?) Oh and their white loafers, walking around with their arms out like they’re carrying invisible watermelons asking me if “I know who they are and how much they bench press”

 And skanks with their short skirts, and low cut tops making their breast stare at me. STOP staring at me breasts!!!

 There’s me in the corner drinking copious amounts of liquid personality trying to actually get up the courage to talk to any of these breasts…I mean women. Let me tell you there is a fine line between Don Juan Casanova, the ladies man and Pukey McGee, the village idiot.

 You try come up with some witty pick up line, something to show how confident, dashing, and intelligent you are with just the slightest hint of humour. Something like “Can I buy you a drink?”; “Are those real?” or “Daaaaaaammmmmn!”

 Besides that, how the hell are you supposed to say your perfectly rehearsed pick up line, when the “music” (I use the term loosely) is so damn loud. You end up shouting some sort of awkward mess into her ear.

 Me: SO UM DO YOU COME HERE OFTEN?

Girl: NO THANKS I ALREADY ATE

Me: UM OK…. SO HEY! SO WHO’S YOUR FAVOURITE ARTIST?

Girl: YEAH!!! WHAT?

Me: NEVERMIND!

Girl: WHAT? NO THANKS I HAVE A DRINK!

 This is normally the time I try to slink away or start speaking in a made up foreign language. I equate it to some sort of defence mechanism like a porcupine or a skunk. Like if a song bird attracts a mate he doesn’t like he would suddenly change songs or sing out of key.