Tag Archives: nightlife

A Weekend, It Was.

“Dance like no one is watching. Sing like no one is listening. Love like you’ve never been hurt and live like it’s heaven on Earth.” – Mark Twain

I am employed again.

I got my old job back. I am talking the one I had BEFORE I worked at a bank. This is a job that I actually liked, but it was only ever temporary, and they made it pretty apparent that I would never be hired permanently. Still, it’ll be cool to have (relatively) steady income again.

This weekend, oh this weekend.

Friday:

King Lear and I returned to where we were the night before. We had a good time, I talked to some girls, I didn’t get PISS drunk, but nothing too eventful. I don’t remember any meaningful interactions. Later on, we went to afterhours, then went home. I saw HipsterGirl there, but she was with another guy, I did a half assed attempt at hollering, but in my drunkeness I realized that I am not interested.

Saturday

King Lear woke me up at 10AM to go to a snowboarding party they had down the street from where we live. We misread the flyer for this party because it didn’t start until two. We grabbed some breakfast, drank at a nearby bar, then headed over.

All in all, it was a good time, I met a few girls that I’d never met before, but in the back of my head I found myself worried about getting TOO drunk because I was literally going to be drinking for like 16 hours.

Life is always better without worrying.

We left the snowboarding jam at 7PM, took an hour break at our respective apartments, then headed out to the place I’d now been going to for three nights in a row. It was a small jaunt tonight, I tried to get on a girl I’d been talking to the other night to come with us to the NEXT place we were going, but she wasn’t having it. Oh well.

The next place we went to had a DJ from out of town and was a GREAT time. I spent a good amount of time talking to this girl who had a boyfriend. This normally doesn’t stop me, but then the guy showed up and I moved on. PUA aside, I saw a TON of people I hadn’t seen in awhile at this bar, and I remember the feeling of utter elation at certain points-just really vibing with the music and being around good friends. Sometimes it’s good to have those moments.

After that, we went to afterhours. It had been 15 hours of almost continuous drinking at this point. I was EXHAUSTED. Still, I met a cute girl with FUNNY glasses. I was pretty sure I managed to get a number, but when I got home I could not remember her name and nothing in my phone looked out of place.

It’s funny how I function like that sometimes, like my brain is on autopilot. I also remember talking to a woman who was ugly and had a kid who was my age. She was cool… but yuck.

The next morning I check my facebook only to realize that FunnyG had befriended me on Facebook. Oh, that’s what your name was!

No real exposition on the weekend, because outside of getting fucked up, nothing too crazy happened. I do want to calm down on the red bull flavored shots, those shits make my heart race like a cheetah!

Tomorrow is Mardi Gras, so I’m thinking I’m going to go out. We’ll see…

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The Broken Record

“I can accept failure, everyone fails at something. But I can’t accept not trying.” – Michael Jordan

I feel melancholy right now.

I could describe what happened tonight, but I would sound like a broken record, repeating the SAME MISTAKES that I’ve been typing about for the past month plus I have been keeping this daily blog. The reality is, that I’ve been repeating this mistake much longer than a month and a half, I have been repeating it since I was 13 years old.

I am talking about the mistake of inaction.

I just don’t know what to do, I go out with the best of intentions, “yeah I’m going to go all out, talk to girls tonight,” but then when I do go out, I sit on the side in fear. This has been the case in the past two years since I read the game and really got into PUA shit, and it was the case since I started going to parties at 18 years old.

The part that really frustrates me, is that I’m not too angry at myself. I always say, “oh, you’ll get ’em next time.” But I know that next time will probably be much like this time. It’s not that I don’t want this to change, I wouldn’t have started this blog or done a TON of things if I didn’t want it to change, I just don’t know how to stop myself from making the same mistakes over and over again.

I feel horrible. I’ll give a more detailed run down of my night tomorrow.  For right now, just know that inaction HAS to stop. It is simply not acceptable anymore. I am going to sit here and maybe cry, but I am going to think of ways to FORCE myself to change, because what I’ve been doing in the past hasn’t worked.

Ugh, I can’t accept not trying either, Michael.

Numbers Don’t Mean Shit

“Mistakes are a part of being human. Appreciate your mistakes for what they are: precious life lessons that can only be learned the hard way. Unless it’s a fatal mistake, which, at least, others can learn from.” – Al Franken

Last night, I got blacked out drunk.

Not good.

The day started off on a good foot. I woke up, meditated, ate breakfast, and accomplished everything I wanted to get done on my list. Earlier in the day, King Lear committed towards going out. Cool.

We took the bus down to the bar and proceeded to drink our faces off. It’s hard drinking with King Lear, he is twice my size and has a much higher tolerance than me.

Still, I managed to talk to this girl for a long time. Teacher was a cute girl, I thought we hit it off pretty well. I opened her by making a funny face at her and telling her to come over to where I was sitting.

I have this thing where I tease girls about stuff and that is my way of being flirtatious. I teased her about being a rich girl that teaches in a rich school district. That didn’t work too well. It’s because I’m being someone that I’m not. When I hang out with my friends, I don’t tease them about dumb shit. I just need to be a nice person. In the end, I got her number, but it ended up being the wrong one. Oh well.

Lesson learned: Numbers really don’t mean shit.

At least I can say that I’ve been consistently getting numbers  this year, I have gotten four so far. This surpasses my whole output from last year, so I am proud of myself.

Anyways, we left the bar and went to after hours, the second I entered the door, I blacked out. The next thing I remember is waking up the next day with a blistering headache. Apparently, I told the guy who drove us over that I had forgotten my keys and went out to his car and sat in it until they came out an hour later. His keys were in the car door.

I’m going to have to calm down on the shots when I roll with King Lear.

Dancing Monkey

“…And if I had the chance, I’d ask the world to dance, I was dancing with myself… oh oh uh-oh!” – Billy Idol

Last night, for lack of a better word, was strange.

A shit show, even.

It started at 7PM. People started coming over my house to watch the playoff game and start drinking. This was incredibly early to start, even for us, but because everyone had it in their mind that it was time to start drinking, who was I to say no?

We had a case of Yuengling, and after Baltimore won, King Lear and I watched The Professional before heading out to the bar.

It is now 10PM.

Before we leave, we notice the police parked in the street outside of our apartment. As we are going to King Lear’s car the cop stops us and says, “don’t leave yet, you’re getting a ticket for parking on the sidewalk.” We looked at Lear’s car-it was crooked and parked WELL on the sidewalk. It had been snowing the past two days, and I live on a hill, King Lear had originally parked the car on the sidewalk, but the car slipped, turned to the right, and there we have what looked like a botched parking job.

And so began our weird night.

King Lear had just gotten paid, so he took it upon himself to get us tanked tonight. Upon arrival, we order a Las Vegas Bomb, which is what we normally do, but that was followed by a vodka bomb no more than 15 minutes later.

Oh my, this would be a messy one.

I told Lear to slow down, as I didn’t want to black out tonight. I ended up talking to this one girl who was sitting next to me at the bar, but she was already there with a guy. Plus I didn’t find her attractive.

At one point I sat next to a guy that was more enamored with the Cardinals blowout than the bar. We struck up a conversation, and somehow he got into telling me about his addiction to cocaine. “I have lost friends, my job, gone into debt, everything because of cocaine.” I nodded my head, I didn’t know what to say.

This poor guy, when he realizes that we can get cocaine rather easily, is like can you guys get me an 8-ball? We tell him, “no, we can’t. We’re not going to do that to you.” Then he starts to rationalize to us the reasons why he’d be okay if we got it for him. We insist on telling him no. When he won’t stop, I tell him that he’d have to pay 3x the price for it. That got him to go away pretty quickly.

My thoughts on cocaine and drugs in general is this: when done in moderation there is nothing wrong with doing drugs. They can be fun when used responsibly. When done in excess however, drugs, cocaine especially, quickly become a problem, and this is what happened to our poor guy. I personally don’t care for cocaine all too much. I am more the kind of guy that likes to eat mushrooms and gain some perspective on the world.

The poor guy also told us he can get other pills like adderall, but we shove him off. Yeah, you and everybody else on the planet, buddy.

Later, I talked to a teacher and her friend, who actually worked at a place I used to work. Both of these girls were REALLY cute. I opened by saying, “…and I’ll take a lemon drop, thank you.” The girl actually got the lemon drop. I graciously say thank you, but I tell her that I didn’t really want it. We strike up a good conversation, but once again, I can’t hold the line. No sexual intent, no nothing. Conversation without intent means that you are a dancing monkey.

My roommate and other friends arrive on the scene.

We goof around for a little bit. We play some music on the jukebox, then drink a LOT more to the point where I would say I am pretty wasted. King Lear, on the other hand, is slurring his words, which I’ve NEVER seen him do before. He is a pretty big guy that can throw down with the best of them. He must have been off taking shots when I wasn’t around.

Two black girls are waiting for a drink and I talk to them. One of them pulls the afro pick out of my blazer. “How did you know it was there?” I asked her. She says, “I just know.” Nothing really happens there. They walk off five minutes later. Again, a dancing monkey.

PartyGirl and her friend also come through.

PartyGirl is my best friend that’s a girl. I used to work with her and she dates one of my friends. She is really cool and likes to go out a lot. She is hot and all of her friends are hot-I mean the kind of girls that date professional football players.

Our ever expanding group continues to goof around. My roommate tries to holler at PartyGirl’s friend. He also has a black girl that he talked to like two weeks ago on the other side of the bar. My roommate, who is also my best friend, is the man. He doesn’t really try to get women, but always seems to have pretty hot ones around. I wouldn’t say he’s a cassanova, but he does pretty well for himself.

The teacher and her friend, probably after seeing me talking to Party Girl say hello from across the bar. My social value has gone up. I don’t do anything with it, though.

At the end of the night, I start talking to a redhead and get her number. She actually opened me, she said that she liked my dancing and the fact that I always looked like I was having a good time. I messaged her a few times later that night, but I didn’t cut it off soon enough. She stopped messaging me after awhile. Fuck. Maybe I was too needy?

I messaged her a bit during the football game, she seemed pretty receptive. Sometimes being a Dancing Monkey has its advantages!

Still, at the end of the night, I felt disappointed in myself. Mostly this was because I was drunk. I need to stop being outcome dependent. I also need to meditate consistently, this vastly lessens any outbursts 0f anger or sadness I might have, even while drinking.

I know I said I was going to go out tonight, but when I woke up tonight, I made the decision that I would take it easy. I would much rather have a good night of rest, take care of some stuff around the apartment, and arrive to work in good condition tomororw. I might make it out on Tuesday, I haven’t decided yet.

So what are my sticking points?

– Need to set the sexual intent early in the conversation.

– Need to not be outcome depdendent. Need to curb outbursts of sadness and anger-meditation will help.

– Need to be more aggressive.

Carpe Noctum

They’re not that different from you, are they? Same haircuts. Full of hormones, just like you. Invincible, just like you feel. The world is their oyster. They believe they’re destined for great things, just like many of you, their eyes are full of hope, just like you. Did they wait until it was too late to make from their lives even one iota of what they were capable? Because, you see gentlemen, these boys are now fertilizing daffodils. But if you listen real close, you can hear them whisper their legacy to you. Go on, lean in.  Listen, you hear it? [whispers in a raspy voice] – – Carpe – – hear it? – – Carpe, carpe diem, seize the day boys, make your lives extraordinary.Dead Poets Society

Last night was a good night. I had a lot of fun. I was more social and talked to more strangers than quite possibly ever before in my life.

I walked down to the bar alone. It was Thursday and I was going to eighties night for the second week in a row. I was pretty excited, last week was a lot of fun, but this not was their two year anniversary, and to celebrate they wouldn’t be closing until 7AM. Of course, I had to work the next day at 9AM, but that never stopped me before.

Plus, I was hoping to see Leader there. I had a good time dancing with her last week. She was really cute, too.

The night began slowly.

I walked in, grabbed a beer, surveyed the place, did a lot of dawdling. Finished my beer (a Pabst pounder), then grabbed another one and sat at the bar. After that got boring, I walked out to the dance floor and became a wallflower, watching everyone dance to 80’s hits like “Sunglasses at Night” and “Dancin’ with Myself.”

All of the sudden, this hot, tall, redhead grabbed me out to the dance floor. This is a girl that King Lear and I had talked to before at another bar. She yells, “I REMEMBER YOU!” when we’re out on the dance floor. “Yes, I remember you, too,” I replied.

I personally believe there is very little difference between a hipster party and a top 40 party. Once you get past the  music and the clothing, the people are pretty much the same. The one striking difference is this, there really isn’t any grinding at hipster parties. Instead, it’s usually a bunch of people in a circle dancing. No touching, no nothing.

Not saying there is nothing wrong with this, but it gets boring very quickly. I should have grabbed the redhead, spun her around and started dancing with her. Instead, I danced in the circle for two songs, then went to sit at the bar. Damn, she was sexy, too.

While walking to the back of the bar, I caught Leader out of the corner of my eye. She is talking with Plain Guy from last week. I acted like I didn’t see her and walked to the back. In the back, I see her one friend, who is also really cute and a friend I hadn’t seen before.

Enter Hero and Spy.

Hero and Spy are two of my best friends. I actually met them through our local lair. We go out sarging a lot, although not in recent months because I have fallen off. Hero gives me a hug and three of us start catching up. They tell me they’ve been here for little while and that they love 80’s night (they’d never been there before). I was surprised because these guys usually eschew most hipster parties I bring them to.

Right in the middle of our conversation, I see Leader’s friend, I jump right out of the conversation and tap her on the shoulder.

“Remember me?”

A bad thing to say, according to most PUA texts. You never want to supplicate, it’s putting the ball in the females court. Natural Tim would say that you can say anything as long as there is core masculine intent behind it. In honesty, I just wasn’t thinking. I should have just walked over and started talking like I already knew she’d remember me.

“Yes, I remember you,” She says.

I introduced myself to her friend, Kansas, who coincidentally had just moved back here from Kansas. We talked for a long while about Kathleen Sebelius and other intellectual endeavors-“dorky stuff” in her words, before she was pulled back to the dance floor.

Ah, that felt good!

I stepped outside of my comfort zone and even though it was a warm approach, it felt like a load had been LIFTED off my shoulders.

That set the tone for the rest of the night.

Part of this was precipitated from the good response I had from Kansas, but admittedly it was also sparked by the alcohol kicking in. Either way, I was on fire. I danced with another redhead, she wasn’t really cute, and kept looking down when she danced. I told her to look up when she danced.

I saw these two girls, one fat the other cute, texting on their cell phones on the dance floor no less. I pulled out my cell phone, walked over to them and said, “can I join your club?” they said, “what club?” “your cell phone text messaging club!” then I noticed the bigger girls cell phone and said, “WAIT A MINUTE!” we both had the same cell phone.

I need to remember to talk louder. Speak from my diaphragm. Speak as if the person were 10 feet further away from where they actually are. I want to minimize the “what?” that I keep getting!

Another girl and I stood waiting for a beer, I asked her what she was buying me to drink? She said, that I should buy her a drink because she is a girl. I said, well if  you cook and clean barefoot pregnant in the kitchen then I will gladly buy you a drink. She laughed and we continued our conversation for a bit, until this one girl, CrazyB interrupted us.

CrazyB is a girl I have known for many years, we went to college together and have many mutual friends. I think that she is cute in a very weird way. She is also fucking nuts. Hero and Spy actually lived with her for a year and contend that she had sex with her brother multiple times while there. She is a quasi friend of my ex-girlfriend (The One) and asked me if she was crazy, because she  stopped talking to her. I said, “no, I don’t think she is crazy, but I think you are.” The girl I was talking to had moved away.

I would love to hate-fuck CrazyB. Otherwise I don’t care for her.

The real star of the night was Leader. She spent the early night dancing with Plain Guy from the week before. I did like Kansas a bit more on an intellectual tip, but even though I was being more aggressive in my talking, I just wasn’t being as aggressive in my pursuance of her.

Core masculine intent, gotta remember this stuff. Write it down on my notepad, dammit!

I danced away the night until 5:30 AM, dancing with the unattractive redhead who looked down, Leader, and Kansas. Leader and I grinded a whole lot, but she kept pulling away because there weren’t that many people around. I called her, “miss self conscious” and teased her a lot about it.  I also goofed around with Hero and Spy a lot.

In the end, Leader said her goodbye, and inferred that we should meet up sometime, but my naive ass missed the intent from a mile away. She left, maybe to never be seen again. Leader said she won’t be around next week, and I probably won’t go there either. It’s good to take a break from places. I will probably go to a top 40 night instead.

What did I learn tonight? Carpe Noctum, motherfuckers.

Seize the night.

The Art of Drunk Texting

“I can say whatever I want, to whoever I want, whenever I want, wherever I want, however I want…” – Eminem

I am not proud of my actions last night.

It started off badly. I lost a sack of herb somewhere in my room and spent an hour plus looking for it. The sack is still at large.

My friend, “King Lear” and I, arrive at the bar at 9pm. I am in great spirits even though I just lost sixty bucks worth of product.

King Lear didn’t have any money so I would be footing the bill tonight. The bar we go to is the one where our friend works and we regularly get a crazy discount. We arrive at 9 P.M.

Nothing of consequence really happens the whole night, we take a LOT of shots. chat with some friends, some girls, but nothing *too* aggressive. There was a girl with HUGE boobs that I wanted to talk to, but didn’t.

Anyways, dejected, I leave paying a $54 tab for the evening. Not too shabby for five hours of drinking.

Except at this point, I get it into my mind that it is time to start drunk texting! Commence the shit show!

I had been listening to Tim’s Flawless Natural program at work over the past week and remembered that he messaged girls that didn’t respond to him with the simple text message: “you are shit.” I was drunk, I thought this was a great idea, so I messaged like three girls with this message. Of course I get messages back that say, “don’t ever talk to me again,” “goodbye, asshole.” Basically, they all tell me that I am a wonderful human being.

I know that I some exchange of words after that, but my recollection is hazy. I can’t look at my sentbox to see what I sent because at some point, I must have realized that I was drunk texting and proceeded to delete all of the girls numbers I was drunk texting. Then I emptied out my sentbox and inbox.

Now, I can’t even say “hey, I’m sorry” because I don’t remember the numbers. I am not sure I would say sorry anyways, I  would probably try to play it off and say I meant to type “you are THE shit.”

Meanwhile, I have inadvertently started off 2009 with a clean slate. Nope, no more girls of 2008, 2009 chicks will be all new baby!

King Lear and I moved onto after hours, where our one boy was dj’ing. This is where I did most of my text messaging. I spent a large portion of the night sitting on a bench and sending them out. Around 3 A.M. my ex-girlfriend, The One, started texting me, and this started a whole new round of texting. This exchange wasn’t mean at all, but it was just simply unnecessary.

I do feel embarrassed, but I’m smiling as I sit here typing this. I am not angry at myself because this is not something I do all of the time. I simply need to learn not to be outcome dependent and have the most fun possible in the present moment, even when I am shitfaced drunk. If I were to see any of these girls in person, I would sincerely apologize, and would understand if they don’t want to talk to me. I would even understand if they hit me or spilled a drink on me, which would be a first for me and hey, I’m all about new experiences!

They are just girls that I was not emotionally attached to. There are many more fish in the sea, and I will just move on.

I am He-Man

“If you have no confidence in self, you are twice defeated in the race of life. With confidence, you have won before you have started.” – Marcus Tullius Cicero

I woke up yesterday and I did not meditate. I always come up with some excuse, usually it’s I need food or the fact that I simply want to surf the internet for awhile first. I’ll make up for it by meditating before I go out for the evening. It’s good to get a half hour of silence before entering the sensation overwhelming atmosphere of a bar.

Yesterday was new years day.

I was pretty tired from the night before, but I had determined to go out early in the day. Around 9 p.m., my friend canceled on me, and my motivation dropped, but I said to myself, “no, you ARE going out.” I get anxious and discouraged at the thought of going out alone, but I generally end up having a great time. Going out alone FORCES me to be more social.

I walk down to the local dive bar where it’s eighties night. Lots of lovely hipsters and gutter punk females fill the place, dancing to a lot of songs I have never heard before. I grab a beer (can’t beat $1 Pabst pounders) and post up.

After a little while, I come to the conclusion that I am too afraid to approach anyone, so I go back to the bar and sit down. A few girls sit beside me while they are getting drinks and I talk to them, but nothing out of consequence comes out of these encounters.

I go back out to the dance floor and start dancing by myself. The DJ starts playing a hip hop set and I start to really get into it. I grab this girl and we start dancing. This girl, let’s call her LeaderGirl, has another friend who is much hotter than her and dressed much nicer. In fact, they both looked out of place at the bar because they were dressed more for the club rather than a hipster night. Not that I am complaining…

The other girl is dancing with this guy she says she doesn’t want to dance with anymore. Still, later on in the night, they disappear to go someplace where presumably they are making out. Leader and I continue to be the only ones grinding (read: simulated sex) on the dance floor. I held back on trying to make out with her, which I should have done, but I didn’t set that sexual tone. Meanwhile, the other guy, who can’t dance and is as plain looking as anything, is making out with the hotter girl. Sigh…

There was another cute girl with a mullet eyeing me up all night. I’m sure I had talked to her before, but I can’t remember where. I was preoccupied with Leader, so I didn’t talk to her… but I should have. Lastly, there was a girl, maybe the hottest girl in the bar that night (long legs and heels, oh my), who came up and touched my hair, I told her that costs “two dollars, please,” but didn’t follow from there. She was with my one friend, so I didn’t pursue, although I can’t say I would have if I did.

Lastly, Leader and I parted ways at the end of the night. She pleaded with me to show up next week, telling me what a good dancer I am (that’s a first). I guess next week is the 80’s night marathon where they’ll be open till like noon. I told her I’d think about going, but I’ll probably show up, sounds like a unique experience.

On my way home, I got the idea that I should start calling myself “He-Man.” He is a muscular guy that gets the princess and wields a big ass sword. I think I can go really overboard with this: I’ll start watching He-Man episodes before I go out and yell “I HAVE THE POWER!” whenever I feel really self-conscious.

I HAVE THE POWER!!!

Immediate goals:

– Meditate to start the day.

– Make plan for rap album, start writing.

– Step out of comfort zone by…

– Opening once I enter the bar. This will set a social pace for the whole evening.

– Being more aggressive.

– No could have’s or should have’s for tomorrow, only I did’s.

Administrative notes: I am going to add some of my older posts which I deleted awhile ago over the weekend. I’m going to edit the timestamp, so I’m not sure if they’ll show up on your reader or not. I don’t know why I deleted them, I guess I didn’t want to stare my past failures in the face all of the time.