Friday, September 30, 2011

No. 138: "Girls Night Out."

Last year I wrote the definitive guide for every guy's night out, I called it: "Bro's Evening Not In." Being from the male persuasion, I was able to denote every fundamental aspect of a perfect night out with the boys. Well, I felt the need to indulge my female readers with a blog of their own (Also, I couldn't think of a new idea for a blog this week so I thought I might as well spin-off a previous post). We've all seen a group of girls having a night out on the town. Whether you're that creepy old dude peering at them from afar as you cunningly masturbate next to the jukebox or the suave bartender that will inevitably lay to bed one of the more "swallow-friendly" gals in the group. I will list a few axiomatic steps needed for a perfect girls night out.

Pick A Theme:
This is a vital element to a successful girls night out. Without a theme, your friends might end up getting confused and lose the party after talking on their cells phones outside. How else could they recognize their friends who they have known since middle school without ridiculously extravagant matching outfits to identify from a distance? You can go in any direction with the theme. Whether it's retro 80's or posh black and white. Just make sure the theme and outfits accommodate your fat friend Denise.

Denise has an amazing personality.

Take Forever To Get Ready:

This is one of the few things women are more accomplished at (other than giving birth and making sandwiches). If you've ever lived with a girl, you know that unless she begins preparations before the street lights go on, you're not making it to the bar 'til midnight. Find an outfit that says: "I'm fun and sexy, but I probably won't blow you unless you have coke." Use this three-hour period to text your girlfriends about how "EXCITEDDD YOU AREEEE!!! :) :)" While out at dinner, order a small salad and share it with a friend. Or, take the escape clause route and scarf down all the succulent fried shrimp you can handle since you'll be returning it in the bar restroom after that shot of tequila.

Be Fucking Loud:
You won't need much catechizing with this one; since you bitches can't shut the fuck up. Start the night off right by ordering a round of shots consisting solely of food coloring and sugar. Wait until all of your friends have finished texting and death-staring other girls before raising up your glasses and puncturing the rest of the bar patrons' ear drums with indistinguishable screams. It is also important to yell incoherently for no reason other than the fact that you're wasted after two appletinis. "Woo!," "Oh Mah Gawd!," and "Seriously? No, seriously?" are a few good starters. But, the most imperative time to be fucking loud is when "your song" comes on. Corral all of your girlfriends and explain how the popular song coming through the speakers is in fact "your song." Do this with every third song.

Talk Shit About Friend That Didn't Show Up:
Routinely, there will be one member of your clique that is unable to make it out for the night's events. This could have to do with their job schedule that requires more than fifteen hours per week or because they are pregnant again and the abortion isn't scheduled until next week*. Since they are not with the group, take this opportunity to discuss her flaws, douche bag boyfriend and other shallow topics de jour. But, remember to never say any of this to her face (unless you're black). Take a moment to wonder what everyone was saying about you last week when you did not partake in the last girls night out and then have another shot to forget about it.

Start Crying For No Reason:
Towards the end of the night it is mandatory for at least one girl from the group to start sobbing unprovoked. This could be triggered from a boyfriend who did not immediately text her back at 1:45 AM or a bartender that was mean to her. To help her in this dire situation, hurl compliments at her and help clean her smeared mascara. Label all men as "jerks" or "pigs" and then proceed to dance away the tears. This would not work for men, though. If one of my buddies began crying I would launch emasculating insults at him, punch him in the kidney and tell him to "man up" before buying him a shot and giving him a bro-hug.

"Why won't he text me back!?"

Abandon Friends:
After you are finished dealing with Sobbing Samantha, one of your friends will inexplicably go missing. Gather your mod squad of heeled hoochies and form a search party. Start yelling her name down the street and calling her phone that she left in your purse. Someone obviously kidnapped her, so call the police and file a Missing Persons Report. Make sure to allude to the obvious by yelling "She was right here!" every ten minutes. Eventually, you all will come to the realization that she went home with some random guy to contract a newly developed form of gonorrhea. Exchange disparaging remarks about her promiscuity and bid each other adieu.

Well, there you go ladies. I tried to write this post in the most mature and progressive manner possible. We really aren't that different, women and men. Men get obliterated and openly mock each other while you quietly hold hate forums for your absentee friends. Men watch other, more athletic men compete in athletic events while you text minutia to people you secretly hate. And men leave no stone unturned attempting to lay pipe while you thwart all attempts at conversation from seemingly nice males before leaving with "that one black guy" at the end of the night. I hope this post will encourage you to organize your own girls night out to escape from your busy and demanding life chock full of salon appointments and shiatsu massages. If you see me, say hi. I'll be the guy by the jukebox.

*That one even offended me. Sorry.

Friday, September 23, 2011

No. 137: "Places I Shant Go."

I try to stay open minded when it comes to most things. I have almost four black friends, listen to both parties' stances on political issues and pretend to tolerate children when around attractive females. But, there are a few places that I refuse to go to based on my predetermined perception of them. Call it ignorance or premonition, but I stand unwavering on this issue. So, here is a list of a couple places you will never find me at. (Although, if I am ever falsely accused of a crime, I will most definitely hide out in one of these subsequent venues).

Religious Goods Store:
I'm not even sure what all they could possibly sell that I couldn't find at a tourist trap in Rocky Point. There's only so many ways you can bedazzle a cross and embroider Mother Mary. I fear that an alarm would go off as soon as I entered the store and I would be kindly escorted to hell by a very nice old lady. I know they have a "wide" selection of books at these stores; ranging from: How To Turn Your Gay Son Straight With Jesus to Properly Baptizing Your Golden Retriever. I think it would be fun to walk into the store with a backpack full of hardcore porn and slyly place it between some of the selected religious readings. Hell, I welcome thee.

Food City:
For those not familiar with Food City, I will briefly explain their layout. Basically, Food City is a supermarket if it was based in Mexico. The floors are made of dirt, the produce has gone south weeks ago, and they do not have air conditioning. It is where you shop if the Dollar Store is out of your price range. Food City is a perfect place to witness an 8th grader give birth or contract hepatitis. Instead of a friendly courtesy clerk willing to help you with your shopping needs, they have angry chollos staring you down as their home boys jack your ride. They have a fine selection of meats as well. Whether you prefer house pet or donkey sack, the selection is almost limitless. It makes Wal-Mart looks like Neiman-Marcus. I'll take off my white hood now.

Food City's fine selection of produce.
Luby's Cafeteria:
I find it interesting how if a business abridges the "-teria" in their name they instantly become quaint and appropriate for people who own dress shoes. Whenever I hear the word "cafeteria" I am instantly relegated to my formative years as an elementary school kid eating gruel for lunch daily; but I've already gone over that. I'm not fond of any restaurant that serves food on trays, unless it's a Vegas buffet and I'm blackout drunk. I can't imagine anyone taking a potential mate on a first date to Luby's Cafeteria. Unless, they were trying to win a reality show where the goal was to see how little time it would take before your date "had to go because her friend needed her."

Boot Repair Store:
You'll see these in many tourist-friendly shopping centers throughout the southwest. I have never owned a pair of boots, since I live in the 21st century and drive a car to work, not a horse. The only time I will even think about wearing a pair of boots is if I am attending a western-themed party and need to complete my shit-kicker outfit. Even then, I'll still probably rock a pair of Converse. Another thought: How are these businesses profitable? Are boots being damaged this frequently? I have a feeling they're just fronts for backdoor meth labs.

Guitar Store:
First of all, I have absolutely no musical talent (just ask anyone who has seen me drunkenly perform "Don't Stop Believing" on karaoke night). So, I have no need to go into a guitar store in the first place. But, I have been to these types of stores before with friends who actually have talent. You'll be welcomed by a burnout in his mid-40's trying his best to ignore your presence. While you walk around and browse their selection of instruments, said burnout will tell you not to touch anything even though there are already five signs saying the exact same thing. When asked a question, the burnout who still thinks his garage band "is gonna make it" will use a supercilious tone to belittle you. You and your buddies will then walk out, exchange disparaging remarks about the burnout's lack of hair and never go back there again. You'll find better customer service at the DMV.

How's it going? I'm a dick.


Unless I'm trying to pick up twelve year-old whores in training I have no need to be within fifty feet of a Claire's (also, it is court ordered). When I look from afar into these "tween goods stores" all I see is useless shit that I will be forced to buy any of my three daughters and effeminate son down the road (payback from the man upstairs for being a blatant misogynist, I suppose). I'm certain that as soon as you walk through the door, a thick coating of fruity body spray and glitter is laid upon you as a later-day form of tar-and-feathering. Personally, I would have a better chance finding something I could use for myself at a blind German bookstore.

Indian Jewelry:
You'll see these in travel-through towns on your way to cities with running water and women with a full set of teeth. I'd rather my home be blanketed in baby poop green than have even a square inch of my humble abode be tainted with turquoise. Dream catchers, wooden sculptures and wool blankets covered in smallpox are not on my list of must-need items. Thanks, but no thanks, Running Bear. I guess I don't have the aesthetic eye for this segment of the art world. When I'm on the road, only two things will get me to pull over: a cop and beef jerky.

Christopher Columbus was not a fan of Indian Jewelry.

Vegan Restaurants:
Why would you want a delicious, filling meal when you could have diarrhea for two weeks? I can deal with vegetarians for the most part; as long as they aren't talking. But, vegans are the Westboro Baptist Church of the dietary practices. I do not consider anything a meal unless it has meat in it. That includes dessert. I'm not even sure what would be on the menu. All I know is that whatever they put in their food makes their customers immediately menstruate to a super-flow level. I think it would be fun to walk into one of these restaurants with an adorable bunny rabbit. I would hold a gun to the rabbit and force one of the patrons to eat a hamburger. After much crying and yelling, they would finally succumb to my threat and take a bite. I would then shoot the rabbit and quietly let myself out. Lesson learned.

Those are just a few businesses I refuse to go to. I'm sure there's people out there that are in great need of repair to their worn-out boots covered in buffalo stool or enjoy eating food that will cause a riot in their colon; but not me. I'd much rather eat a steak at a nice restaurant, shop at a supermarket that doesn't accept pesos and buy a metric ton of beef jerky from a man with a wooden leg. What are some places that you will never go to?
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