Evolution or the biosphere or whatever you like to call it doesn't do anything by accident. We as a species are just another experiment into some genetic variation, perhaps consciousness, if we can actually claim that title. At any rate we still are just a minor global catastrophe, a nuisance really, and we have a number of built in fail safes. The most obvious and probably most ultimately effective is common to any species that does not have the ability to control its own resource usage. A million years from now the Earth will be vibrant, verdant, and full of genetic diversity, with little or no sign that a minor plague called humans ever existed. When viewed from that angle the constant Machiavellian self betrayals of the human race take on such a pathetic comic aspect like some vast Punch and Judy show. I'm not saying don't keep fighting the good fight, and anger can be a source of strength, but rage will eat you up from the inside leaving nothing but a hollow caricature of yourself, if you let it. So don't take it too seriously. Don't get too worked up about foolish people around you that seem to have it easier. Ask yourself if you would really want their lives, if you would really sacrifice who you are to have it that easy. Take joy in your weirdness and allow for the fact that it takes a little longer to figure out your path when you make your own way. If the human race has any chance of evolving into something that works it'll be because of us mutants and freaks on the fringe of things. Sorry my sermon for the day.
Sex & Booze: A User's Guide
By Finnegan Schall
The History: A Man. A Beer. A Camel. Sex and Booze have long and illustrious history together. Thousands of years ago (somewhere in the mid-60s, I think) some hairy half-naked dude sealed some wet grain in a jar and let it rot. Later he opened it up, wrinkled his nose at the strange new smell, shrugged his shoulders and drank it down. Shortly after, his vision began to wobble and spin. It was then that he looked over and realized for the first time just how pretty his camel really was.
After a little slurred flirting and ten seconds of intense love making, history was made. The next morning when he woke up covered in vomit, picking camel fleas off his dingus, the tradition was sealed. Traditions began that day connecting sex and booze traditions that still stand today.
From then on everyone said of him, "he's a camel fucker, sure, but he makes damn good beer." I don't know this for certain but I think beer actually means "camel fucker" somewhere in some language, possible one of the remote dialects spoken in Detroit.
So all right, you're looking to get loaded and get laid but wish to avoid fleas and the appellation 'camel fucker'. So you come to KCDrinker, thinking we have all the answers you need. Well thanks to me, we do. I've a trail of empty whisky bottles and used condoms littering my tawdry past that would fill a football stadium. Admittedly, there are a few camels in my past, but I've learned from my mistakes and I never caught fleas. So here goes.
Finn's Tricks of the Trade
The Signs: Choosing Your Victim
I'm going to stick mostly to the getting laid department since getting drunk is pretty simple. But here are the basics to the drunken part in case no one has covered this with you yet. You take liquor and you drink it. Rinse*. Repeat.
*rinsing is, of course, optional.
It's important to remember there are three kinds of people in this system:
Those that use liquor to get sex - The problem with joining this group is that in order to properly take advantage of getting the other person drunk for sexual purposes, you have to remain mostly sober yourself and that hardly seems worth it. Well, it might be worth it to really desperate bastards.
Those who use sex to get liquor - The problem with this group is these people are not going to give it up, ever. They want to flirt just enough to keep the free drinks coming. When you're out of money, they're on to the next sucker.
Those that wish to stuff as much of both in their party hat as humanly possible before last call - This is the type to align yourself with. There are any number of terms for it. Some say "hedonist," or "partier," sometimes you hear "delinquent" but the truest is simply "drunken sluts."
So you're asking me, "Finn how do I recognize fellow hedonists (drunken sluts) in a social setting?"
I'll tell you if you'll shut the fuck up for a minute.
They are having a good time, and so are the people with them. But to judge how much they are looking to get some that night is a little more complicated. With men, you look for how much they are surreptitiously eyeballing butts and trying catch someone's eye at the same time.
With women, it's how conspicuously they're NOT looking at someone. You must be careful with women however. Because they also pointedly don't look at you when they think you are gross.
One good tell is hair handling. They more she is touching her hair the more interested she is in you.
Another good tell is the security staff (on a side note, it is useful to befriend the security staff, they will still eject you if need be, but they will try not to hurt you as much). If she calls the bouncer on you she probably doesn't want you so much.
Troubleshooting: If you're not getting anywhere at all, just remember: The uglier they are, the better your chances. I'm not saying go ugly right off, I'm just saying when all else fails, lower your standards.
If you have chosen your victim, we can continue.
The Technique: Breaking the Ice From watching the movies to listening to your friends' bullshit stories, you may have been conditioned to think the thing to do is sidle up to the victim, waggle your eyebrows in a meaningful fashion and fire some clever James Bond-style pick up line that will leave them powerless to resist you. This is wrong.
You are not James Bond and unless your name is Sean Connery you will look like an ass trying to be James Bond.
Being yourself is also not an option. You suck, and being your sucky self will just send them running.
No what you want to do is be your COOL self. This may require months of acting lessons, but you'll get there.
Your victim is much like you, only cool. Cool people don't use lines. Just go to the person. The more nonchalant on the approach, the better. Remain calm. Then in a relaxed, friendly, and confident manner introduce yourself and whoever happens to be right there with you. Remain calm. Crack a couple of light jokes about yourself or something going on around you. Remain calm. Small smiles, confident relaxed attitudes, and remaining calm are the ingredients for success. Use their reactions to your jokes to lead into conversation.
Get them talking and listen to what they say. I know you don't actually care what they say, but to maintain the illusion of being clever you may have to know what they said and respond to it at some point.
Troubleshooting: If you lose track of the conversation and they ask you a question, suddenly finish your drink and say, "That's a good question. Oops. I'm empty. Can I get you a drink while I'm at the bar?" By the time you get back, they will have forgotten all about it or at least they will rephrase the question. Listen this time, dummy.
You may think you should ask for a phone number at this point. Wrong again. You never ask for a phone number unless you're having a competition with a friend to see how many you can get, or if you think you might need a few for getting bail money later in the evening.
If you follow my advice, they will beg you to take their phone number on their own. Wait for the proper level of engagement. You can tell by how well they react to your lamer jokes or stories. If they are still paying attention to you, then it is time.
Next, suggest a change in venue. Mention that you have to go, and then in an offhand way invite them to come to the party or bar you are going to next. If need be, you can still call it a party even if you're just going back to your place, assuming you can get enough people to come with you. If they come with you, you're set.
Now it is just a delicate cat-and-mouse matter of plying your intended with the proper amounts of liquor and small talk.
However the issue of liquor can be tricky. You must watch for the following dangers:
1. You get too drunk and make an ass of yourself. The rule of thumb is to never get drunker than your date.
2. He/she gets too drunk, pukes, and passes out.
Troubleshooting: In the event this happens, the patient predator may yet turn the situation to his/her advantage by taking care of the drunken puke bucket in his/her time of need, and not taking advantage of them, thus becoming the "hero" of the evening. Nice touches include holding their hair back while they barf, and reassuring statements like "you look gorgeous even when you are pissing uncontrollably on my $1,500 Persian rug." However, this essay is about drunken one-night stands and that kind of thinking has no place here.
3. He/she doesn't get drunk enough, suddenly realizes you suck and he/she is still capable of driving home.
Look, I'm about as sick of writing this article as you are of reading it, so just follow these guidelines, balance enough booze and small talk, in conjunction with a total lack of moral fiber, and you should be well on your way to getting drunk and getting laid.
By Finnegan Schall
The History: A Man. A Beer. A Camel. Sex and Booze have long and illustrious history together. Thousands of years ago (somewhere in the mid-60s, I think) some hairy half-naked dude sealed some wet grain in a jar and let it rot. Later he opened it up, wrinkled his nose at the strange new smell, shrugged his shoulders and drank it down. Shortly after, his vision began to wobble and spin. It was then that he looked over and realized for the first time just how pretty his camel really was.
After a little slurred flirting and ten seconds of intense love making, history was made. The next morning when he woke up covered in vomit, picking camel fleas off his dingus, the tradition was sealed. Traditions began that day connecting sex and booze traditions that still stand today.
From then on everyone said of him, "he's a camel fucker, sure, but he makes damn good beer." I don't know this for certain but I think beer actually means "camel fucker" somewhere in some language, possible one of the remote dialects spoken in Detroit.
So all right, you're looking to get loaded and get laid but wish to avoid fleas and the appellation 'camel fucker'. So you come to KCDrinker, thinking we have all the answers you need. Well thanks to me, we do. I've a trail of empty whisky bottles and used condoms littering my tawdry past that would fill a football stadium. Admittedly, there are a few camels in my past, but I've learned from my mistakes and I never caught fleas. So here goes.
Finn's Tricks of the Trade
The Signs: Choosing Your Victim
I'm going to stick mostly to the getting laid department since getting drunk is pretty simple. But here are the basics to the drunken part in case no one has covered this with you yet. You take liquor and you drink it. Rinse*. Repeat.
*rinsing is, of course, optional.
It's important to remember there are three kinds of people in this system:
Those that use liquor to get sex - The problem with joining this group is that in order to properly take advantage of getting the other person drunk for sexual purposes, you have to remain mostly sober yourself and that hardly seems worth it. Well, it might be worth it to really desperate bastards.
Those who use sex to get liquor - The problem with this group is these people are not going to give it up, ever. They want to flirt just enough to keep the free drinks coming. When you're out of money, they're on to the next sucker.
Those that wish to stuff as much of both in their party hat as humanly possible before last call - This is the type to align yourself with. There are any number of terms for it. Some say "hedonist," or "partier," sometimes you hear "delinquent" but the truest is simply "drunken sluts."
So you're asking me, "Finn how do I recognize fellow hedonists (drunken sluts) in a social setting?"
I'll tell you if you'll shut the fuck up for a minute.
They are having a good time, and so are the people with them. But to judge how much they are looking to get some that night is a little more complicated. With men, you look for how much they are surreptitiously eyeballing butts and trying catch someone's eye at the same time.
With women, it's how conspicuously they're NOT looking at someone. You must be careful with women however. Because they also pointedly don't look at you when they think you are gross.
One good tell is hair handling. They more she is touching her hair the more interested she is in you.
Another good tell is the security staff (on a side note, it is useful to befriend the security staff, they will still eject you if need be, but they will try not to hurt you as much). If she calls the bouncer on you she probably doesn't want you so much.
Troubleshooting: If you're not getting anywhere at all, just remember: The uglier they are, the better your chances. I'm not saying go ugly right off, I'm just saying when all else fails, lower your standards.
If you have chosen your victim, we can continue.
The Technique: Breaking the Ice From watching the movies to listening to your friends' bullshit stories, you may have been conditioned to think the thing to do is sidle up to the victim, waggle your eyebrows in a meaningful fashion and fire some clever James Bond-style pick up line that will leave them powerless to resist you. This is wrong.
You are not James Bond and unless your name is Sean Connery you will look like an ass trying to be James Bond.
Being yourself is also not an option. You suck, and being your sucky self will just send them running.
No what you want to do is be your COOL self. This may require months of acting lessons, but you'll get there.
Your victim is much like you, only cool. Cool people don't use lines. Just go to the person. The more nonchalant on the approach, the better. Remain calm. Then in a relaxed, friendly, and confident manner introduce yourself and whoever happens to be right there with you. Remain calm. Crack a couple of light jokes about yourself or something going on around you. Remain calm. Small smiles, confident relaxed attitudes, and remaining calm are the ingredients for success. Use their reactions to your jokes to lead into conversation.
Get them talking and listen to what they say. I know you don't actually care what they say, but to maintain the illusion of being clever you may have to know what they said and respond to it at some point.
Troubleshooting: If you lose track of the conversation and they ask you a question, suddenly finish your drink and say, "That's a good question. Oops. I'm empty. Can I get you a drink while I'm at the bar?" By the time you get back, they will have forgotten all about it or at least they will rephrase the question. Listen this time, dummy.
You may think you should ask for a phone number at this point. Wrong again. You never ask for a phone number unless you're having a competition with a friend to see how many you can get, or if you think you might need a few for getting bail money later in the evening.
If you follow my advice, they will beg you to take their phone number on their own. Wait for the proper level of engagement. You can tell by how well they react to your lamer jokes or stories. If they are still paying attention to you, then it is time.
Next, suggest a change in venue. Mention that you have to go, and then in an offhand way invite them to come to the party or bar you are going to next. If need be, you can still call it a party even if you're just going back to your place, assuming you can get enough people to come with you. If they come with you, you're set.
Now it is just a delicate cat-and-mouse matter of plying your intended with the proper amounts of liquor and small talk.
However the issue of liquor can be tricky. You must watch for the following dangers:
1. You get too drunk and make an ass of yourself. The rule of thumb is to never get drunker than your date.
2. He/she gets too drunk, pukes, and passes out.
Troubleshooting: In the event this happens, the patient predator may yet turn the situation to his/her advantage by taking care of the drunken puke bucket in his/her time of need, and not taking advantage of them, thus becoming the "hero" of the evening. Nice touches include holding their hair back while they barf, and reassuring statements like "you look gorgeous even when you are pissing uncontrollably on my $1,500 Persian rug." However, this essay is about drunken one-night stands and that kind of thinking has no place here.
3. He/she doesn't get drunk enough, suddenly realizes you suck and he/she is still capable of driving home.
Look, I'm about as sick of writing this article as you are of reading it, so just follow these guidelines, balance enough booze and small talk, in conjunction with a total lack of moral fiber, and you should be well on your way to getting drunk and getting laid.
Well I wrote a couple of new things for the kids down at KCDrinker.
http://www.kcdrinker.com/content/2006/10-2006/Articles/barfight.htm
http://www.kcdrinker.com/content/2006/10-2006/Rants/DontNotDrink.htm
http://www.kcdrinker.com/content/2006/10-2006/Articles/barfight.htm
http://www.kcdrinker.com/content/2006/10-2006/Rants/DontNotDrink.htm
This way madness comes. You stand before the scary door. Enter if you dare.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gx-NLPH8JeM&NR
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gx-NLPH8JeM&NR
I could be a suicide girl. I have my naked leather pictures. It's true. Some mates and I were camping some years back and I had these big black biker boots that I eventually wore to bits. I was in the habit of sleeping naked in my boots while camping in case I to piss in the night. Well, a sizeable pack of dogs came scavenging for food at dawn. I come charging out of the tent clad as I described, swinging a branch, and leaping the camp fire defending the food. So what does my friend Paul do? Leap to my aid? No, he pokes his camera out of the tent flap to immortalize the event. Putz. I nearly lit my balls on fire. As an extra added joke I still had my morning woody. The best picture has me buck naked, save the boots, a burning branch in hand leaping over the fire at a pack of snarling dogs; a big snarl on my face as well as a big old boner pointed straight at the sky. Of course twenty seconds later the dogs are howling off into the trees, my woody is gone, and I'm scrambling for clothes as everyone comes scurrying out of their tent wondering what the fuck is going on.
Oy' I have been up to my ass in, I don't know what, life I guess. It has been thick and fast for old Mr. Fin lately. It's not all been bad but most of it hasn't been good. Mind you it's nothing I can't handle; I'm a master at keeping my head up when the shit gets deep. The heartbreaker is I lost my beautiful Monet on Saturday. For16 years we've been buddies; ever since she started trawling around my grandmother's backyard and decided to adopt me. She never really asked whether I wanted to be adopted or not.
Well, she was an adventuresome lass and I was certainly willing to do my best to comply. I freely admit at this point I was struggling to keep up. We'll just say that she was more
advanced than I was. So at the tender age of 16 we decided we wanted bring another young lady into our reindeer games. I say we even though while I was certainly not against the whole idea I would have been perfectly satisfied to just keep molesting her in the back seat of my fly 1971 Chevy station wagon. In the back of my head a small voice was warning me I was getting in over my head but I smacked it with a stick and buried the body in the back yard.
Before I go further I should explain something about me. My own sexual tastes are really quite simple. To be quite frank I can satisfy my own sexual needs without help. The fun of sex for me has always come from making my partner or partners feel good. So while my own tastes are pretty straightforward I have ended in some rather exotic scenarios. Over the years my 'anything for the cause' attitude has been tempered by finding certain personal limits past which I will no longer venture. Besides everyone's so anxious to be a porn star the value of a heart stopping kiss has been forgotten by most.
Before I go further I should explain something about me. My own sexual tastes are really quite simple. To be quite frank I can satisfy my own sexual needs without help. The fun of sex for me has always come from making my partner or partners feel good. So while my own tastes are pretty straightforward I have ended in some rather exotic scenarios. Over the years my 'anything for the cause' attitude has been tempered by finding certain personal limits past which I will no longer venture. Besides everyone's so anxious to be a porn star the value of a heart stopping kiss has been forgotten by most.
In 1987 I stole 40$ from my grandmothers purse. I suppose there were extenuating circumstance if you want to call them that. Well there was a girl. Actually in this situation two girls but it all started with one; the same girl that most of my troubles started with during that period of my life. Her name was Heather; she was half Korean and half French. She had endless red black curls that covered us like a curtain when she was above me. We were together for a year and a half which is nearly forever in high school. I was smitten and she had more influence over me than was healthy. Oops gotta go. And later (tonight?) the rest of the story.
Do you remember your love life? I mean the whole thing? Is it a simple progression of a handful of names? Is there a similarity from time to time? Have you been passionate? Have you learned? Lately the history of it all has been coming back to me. You can never truly isolate one event from what led up to it and were it led from there. So your first playground crush is all of a piece with whatever torrid love affair you are or are not having right at this moment. The trick is in remembering. It is amazing to me how much gets forgotten. From crushing misery to passions enflamed it fades. The details blur and a mist hides the valley from the mountain.
But lately I've been glimpsing the larger outline that is the shape of whole thing, this thing we must call my love life, lacking better terminology. And as with any puzzle once you have the outline the pieces start to fall into place.
So if you are good boys and girls perhaps I'll tell you about a piece of the puzzle for a bedtime story tomorrow night.
But lately I've been glimpsing the larger outline that is the shape of whole thing, this thing we must call my love life, lacking better terminology. And as with any puzzle once you have the outline the pieces start to fall into place.
So if you are good boys and girls perhaps I'll tell you about a piece of the puzzle for a bedtime story tomorrow night.
JANUARY 2008
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