Archive for September, 2007


Monday Big Words Update! Week 44 on stands, ‘Cherry Trees & White House Interns’ Up on Acid Logic

September 24, 2007

After two weeks, I’m finally back.  And since it’s Monday, that means that the new issue of Night Life is out with a Big Words edition of ‘Gameday Blues’ (from Slapstick & Superego), a now-classic rant about the scourge of armchair quarterbacks we have in Buffalo.  Grab a copy on stands if you haven’t seen it.  Also, the latest issue of Acid Logic is up online with ‘Cherry Trees And White House Interns’, a meditation on, well, honesty being the best policy.  You can check that one out by clicking over to:

As for the last two weeks, Night Life ran the conclusion to ‘Perpetual Money 3: Wingman Of The Year’ along with the unedited version of ‘Butch & Tom’.  I’ll leave you with the full version of ‘Perpetual Money 3’ for you enjoyment.  I’ll talk to you all next week,

Tom Waters

Perpetual Money III: Wingman Of The Year

Wingman (noun): One who selflessly finds and

secures prospective single women for his available

friends, family and other single loved ones.

It’s hard to believe, but it’s been nine years since I wrote (or more accurately, channeled) ‘Perpetual Money‘, my original manifesto on the rules of singles club dating (published in my first book, Born Pissed from America House). I still consider it the closest thing to personal perfection that I’ve ever written, and in terms of length, flow, humor and style I continue to try and top that single essay with mixed results. A year and a half later (or thereabouts), I wrote ‘Perpetual Money II: The Accidental Gigolo’ which included ten more commandments regarding club going, singles dating, and other detritus (published in my third book, First Person, Last Straw from Authorhouse).

I never thought I’d write another follow up, as the phase of lounge dating has come and gone in my life. I still go out to bars, but it’s for different reasons, and when I was actively trying to date women in clubs, eighty percent of the time they wanted nothing to do with me, or I was too shy to approach one off the cuff, so to speak. Well now we’ve got ourselves an epic trilogy, because it hit me like a ton of bricks this week: I’ve turned into something of a jewish matchmaker on the club circuit. Now that I’m in a committed relationship and I’m no longer a threat to my male peers or a prospect to damaged women, I still play a valuable and needed role in the club stratosphere: The Wingman. A guy who will go the extra mile for his emotionally crippled or socially retarded compatriots. A man who will dive into a group of beautiful, heavily made-up and utterly unattainable girls and talk up his friends while making friends with them at the same time.

I have officially evolved and I’m glad that I haven’t been weaned out of the discotheque gene pool for my status or age. At 31, I can still get my groove on, but I do so with my girlfriend, a small posse of well wishers, hangers-on and close friends, and (alarmingly and refreshingly enough) I pass out and make a gigantic psychotic scenes with less frequency. I’ve even taken up eating while drinking at the same time, which used to be a trick in bars as difficult if not more than patting your head and rubbing your belly at the same time. I am now considered something of a godfather to partying among my fellow drinkers, whether we’ve met or not, and writing bar and strip club reviews for the last five years hasn’t hurt. Every so often when we’re out slamming shots, buddying up to the staff, or just kicking back on a patio during the summer with Cosmopolitans and tall, foamy pints, I’ll see a girl or a group look over and whisper ’He writes bar reviews’. I’m touched by that. Getting back to the topic at hand, though…

To be a good wingman, you must be selfless, friendly, and very un-weird. The point is to get some ass for your friends on the front line, so you need to go in without fear and talk a line of bullshit better than Al Sharpton. You also have to know if your friends are capable of hooking up once they get past the protective bubble of hotness that scares them away from available women. So you’re dealing with a full year subscription of issues right there. In my experience, some people just can’t make things happen in bars, with or without assistance, so don’t put in the legwork if it’s being expended on a lost cause. Herein I’ll impart my final ten commandments on club dating in my role as a professional proxy for one night stands. Take copious notes and contact me in the quad office after three on Tuesdays and Thursdays during my office hours if you have any further questions.

Rule #22: Hot Women Are Not Difficult To Talk To: Once you can wrap your head around this one, you’re set. Hot girls are people, just like you and me. They put their crotchless panties and red leather hooker skirts on one leg at time just like anybody else before they go out, so once you truly accept that in your heart and your head, get past it. As a professional Wingman, I enjoy just waltzing up to a group or finding a central location along the bar and letting them lean over next to me to order shots (since I look harmless) and breaking the ice by asking what sort of fruity/difficult/flaming/sexual innuendo shot that they’re drinking for the evening. Sometimes I’ll take my friend’s money and buy them a round of drinks while playing said single guy up. It’s what I do. It’s a personal thrill to capture the attention of four drunken horny girls at the same time, but it goes no further than that. I could be a soulless and sociopathic degenerate by collecting phone numbers on the sly or making cheap hits for my own personal gain, but I don’t. I’m above that. I know when I’ve got a good thing going, so why compromise it? Most guys this late in a relationship are on terminal lockdown at home with their significant others clipping coupons and talking about what housewares they’re going to tandem shop for the next day at Target, so I don’t want to jeoprodize the amount and illusion of personal freedom I’m given. Which leads me to my next rule,

Rule #23: Know Your Limits: Pissing yourself, falling off the stool, drooling, lighting cocktail napkins on fire or punching out the cover band on stage while you’re enjoying a ’night out’ with the ball in chain are all frowned upon. While your primary goal as an amateur partier may or may not be hooking your bros up during the Brodeo TM,

you certainly shouldn’t mess up a good time and end up spending your weeknights at home with a security bracelet attached to your ankle looking at carpet swathes and talking about baby showers. Behave yourself, find out what you can get away with, and don’t go one inch past that crucial boundary. I get away with murder, so again, I am lucky. I’ve hiccupped through entire mix tapes sitting in the passenger seat on the ride home while shoveling burritos into my mouth and dumping them all over my jacket, but this is a once in a while sort of thing. I’ve passed out in the passenger seat and I have a bad habit of cleaning out my car on the ride home tossing my entire back seat out the side window at three in the morning on main highways, but this is also after far too many free shots and the incumbent excitement that accompanies being out with a large group of good friends and hangers on. When you start knocking over barstools ‘by accident’ or projectile vomiting onto your plate of appetizers, it’s time to scale back a bit and become a quick study in impulse control. If you’re not allowed out, you won’t be able to fulfill your civic duty as a Wingman.

Rule #24: Lie Frequently And Spectacularly About Your Friends: ‘He’s 29, he still lives at home and he works part time at a grocery store’ will not get a girl hot and bothered. ‘He’s 33, he hasn’t been in a relationship for over a decade, and he hates non-gun carrying liberals’ won’t work, either. You are responsible for aiding and abetting in getting your buddies laid. You’re off the market, they’re on, and they don’t have a clue, so this is where you come in. Odds are that things won’t turn into a long lasting and healthy union if they hook up so much as they will end up pressing ham against the rear windshield to the rock ballads of Poison at four in the morning with the motor running, so make some shit up! ‘My friend just got back from Iraq and he’s going back into bodybuilding after he donates his tour of duty money to the local orphanage.’ works, or for another example, ‘Drew is hung like a tire iron. He’s packing some heat down there and he sits that way because he doesn’t want to break any cartilage or muscle tissue in his massive and abnormally large member.’ will also garnish a certain degree of success.

Rule #25: Free Drinks Make The World Go Round: I’m no saint, and odds are that you aren’t either, so charge a going rate per lead. You need free drinks, the girls need free drinks, everyone needs free drinks. The worst thing that happens at the end of the night is a case of whiskey dick, and if you’re a Wingman, you’re in a committed relationship so the embarrassment phase of that is long gone and sometimes, even expected and appreciated after long bouts of sweaty, week long monkey sex. There’s a reason why they call it social lubricant: it greases the gears of getting to know new people and strengthens the bonds between old friends looking to wax nostalgic, so pour it on! Help yourself to three free pitchers from down the bar or slam three shots of buttery nipples if that’s what it takes. Women go through their whole goddamned lives drinking free shots so if you don’t convince your fellow drinkers to sport a round they will be instantly disqualified. I know this goes against what I said in the second installment of this series but I’ve learned better since then. Girls NEVER pay for drinks. It sucks, but it’s a fact of life so pry open that wallet and let the money fly. Open up the tab and there’s a good chance that someone else will be opening up your pants for you by the end of the night.

Rule #26: Make Friends With Your Bartender Or Waitress: Tip well and tip often. Tip over the top, off the cuff, make some bank shots and drop some fives on the bar at the first round so they remember you. I’ve got a home base for a bar now, but I still go out to other places and my time tested universal rule for tipping has never failed me. Be patient, introduce yourself, remember the bartenders name and ALWAYS tip five dollars on the first drink order and one to two on each additional. It’s a bartenders job (as well as a good Wingman’s) to facilitate tawdry and short lived relationships but if they don’t like you and you’re not taking care of them, you’ll get jack squat in return. If you buy the bartender shots, get to know them, and point out girls and ask about their eligibility for swinging from a portable wall mounted sex harness for your friend’s benefit, they will clue you in. Bartenders have a god-like power inside of a club: they pour the drinks. They dispense liquefied magic at their own time and pace in direct proportion to how much they do or do not like you. Don’t mess that up. In addition, they talk to everyone along the bar and away from the bar at some point in the evening, so they hold the key to a million sad stories, single proclamations and tawdry trysts. Invest a small amount of capital and the return in punani dollars will be above any publicly traded price on the stock market. That will be the first time I use the word punani in an essay. That was the last. I don’t even know if I spelled it right, but moving on…

Rule #27: It Doesn’t Hurt To Outsource: Time and again I’ve attempted to set friends up in the comfort and luxury of my own home and it always comes off as a matchmaking session. You don’t want to scare off either party, so invite them and twenty other people out for no reason whatsoever and watch the sparks fly. I enjoy the company and conversation of the opposite sex, and it’s no secret that I’m friends with a lot of young and eligible women. I’m also friends with a lot of single guys who make a decent living and retain a great sense of humor. Bring these worlds together and blammo!: coitus. Don’t bother orchestrating a hook-up at the house or apartment level unless it’s during a party and even then it’s risky. Take it on the road, find a bar and the rest is natural. If you know a place that doesn’t have a lot of single girls, invite some that you do know and see if things click. Besides, single girls are more comfortable if they have a friend guy in the vicinity as a security blanket. I never thought I’d be a heterosexual male with female friends in a club setting, but there you go, girlfriend. It’s your birthday. And we’re going to party like…it’s your birthday.

Rule #28 : Don’t Set Someone Up When They Don’t Want To Get Set Up: Some people prefer the crippling pain of blue testicles or they’d rather nurse their pain quietly out of a tall pint glass and wonder what it’s like to enjoy the company of the opposite sex. Odds are that if you have a friend who hasn’t gotten laid in nigh over a decade, they just might like the company of the same sex but they’re too repressed to realize it. If they’re not trying and they’re wrapped in a sea of neuroses so tightly that they’d rather you didn’t introduce them to a Czechoslovakian gymnast with an opposable pelvic bone, let it go. Some people can’t make it work in bars, others need the guidance and skilled craft of a Wingman, and some are nestled so deep into the closet that when they finally come out the ensuing force propelling them outward will be not unlike that of a NASA launch. Don’t make them any more uncomfortable by forcing them into confronting someone from the opposite sex or making friends with new, sexy and interesting people. Plus there are some men with mommy issues so ingrained into their upbringing that they should be strapping a nipple onto their drinks and meeting up with their own mother’s for late night trysts in seedy hotels. Enough said on that subject.

Rule #29: Separate The Herd And Find The Weak Link In The Chain: I used to think that every group had an ‘ugly friend’ and this is true but it’s not always easy to find in a lineup of say, college co-eds, a nurse’s after work party, or a small gathering of The Suicide Girls (meow). While they may all appear blindingly smokingly, I-need-to-unstuck-my-shirt-and-think-about-baseball-before-I-approach-the-chalkboard hot, one of them is the ugly girl of the pack on the inside. She’s the one with the inferiority complex who will work that much harder in bed for your buddy, so as a Wingman, you have to muster up the courage and the personal sacrifice and listen to determine which girl is getting ignored, cut off in conversation, and picked on. She’s the ugly duckling, whether she’s six feet tall with 36 D’s or not. Listen, Locate and Cross Pollinate. Take her aside and guide her towards the target. Don’t make sudden movements, or you’ll scare off the subject.

Rule #30: When Things Are Going Well, Get The Hell Out: If your intentions are true as a bona fide Wingman, get the hell out of there! When the two strike up a meaningful conversation and start trading information about their favorite music, comment interests and all that other miserable shit we all go through during the courting phase of a one night stand or long term death sentence, by all means, leave the premises! Don’t be a cock-block and evacuate immediately. Talk the guy up when he’s not on the scene, scale back once they foster their own conversation, and then go. I don’t care where you go, but you can’t stay here. It’s his intrinsic duty to call you with steamy details and meticulous notations the next day, so opt out and allow the magic to happen. You’ve just made a friend for life.

And lastly, Rule #31: The Object Is To Indoctrinate Your Single Friends So That They Can Be As Miserable As You Are 30% Of The Time: Single people are annoying with their unlimited personal freedom, financial who-gives-a-damn attitude and the spring in their step. What gives them the right? Dangle the cherry over their noses, let them frolic blissfully into the bear trap and POW!, it’s over. Now they too can enjoy the guilt trips, weight gain, neuroses, sleep instead of sex, theme nights, couples activities, housewares shopping trips to Target for shit that nobody needs anyways, sexual withholding, fights for the sake of breaking a silent pause or personal sense of peace and happiness, and so on. In the process of evolution, they are a threat and an anomaly. Single people should not be. So hook them up with somebody and take them off the market before they remind you what it’s like to be single and miserable instead of attached and miserable.

I am, of course, kidding. A little bit. I’m relieved that I don’t have to hit up the meat market five to seven times a week anymore. The pressure is off and now I can simply go out, enjoy some great food, the company of an eclectic mix of friends, and strong drink. If getting my friend’s laid in the process occurs at some point in the evening, then I have truly accomplished something wonderful in my lifetime. There is no greater gift than the gift of ass. I believe Charles Dickens said that. When I am awarded the Honorary Lifetime Achievement Award For Outstanding Excellence In The Field Of Wingmanship, I will accept it with a Brodeo TM handshake and the three fingered bowling ball high sign. This is what monogamous men in serious relationships do. It is your duty to god and country. Now get to it!

So ends our illustrious trilogy,

Tom ’lounge godfather’ Waters


Monday Big Words Update: Week 41 on stands, Perpetual Money 2 right here!

September 4, 2007

With Labor Day today, I’m not sure if Night Life hits stands today or tomorrow, but September marks the final installment of ‘Perpetual Money’, ‘Perpetual Money 3: Wingman Of The Year’ (from the upcoming collection, Crass Menagerie.  I won’t be able to update next week (or the week after) as I’ll be out of town, but I’ll drop a line on the last Monday of this month.  In the meantime, I’ll leave you with the full version of ‘Perpetual Money 2: The Accidental Gigolo’.  Enjoy!

Tom Waters



Perpetual Money II: The Accidental Gigolo

gigolo / jig-e-lo/ n, pl -los 1. : a man living on the earnings of a woman.

2. a professional dancing partner or male escort.

I’ve been clubbing for two and a half years now and I just can’t bring myself to stop. It’s flaky. I’m above it all. Why in the hell would I want to consort with the scum of the earth and the most vacuous of the airheads? Because a bar is one of the few places where, better or worse, you can walk in and leave the world behind you. You can be as sociable or as reclusive as you wish. There’s no other public environment like it (save the hand puppet brothel I went to in Ottawa five months ago). I broke my teeth in the lounge latitude and learned a few rules of dating. And now I’ve achieved tenure. I’m a fogey by techno standards. But old dogs learn new tricks and sometimes they keep their wits about them.

Once I was a fool, I was petrified…okay, I’m not going to start that old tune. But once I was a young protege, learning by riding the coat-tails of others. In the span of two years, I’ve gained my p.h.d in booty calls, last calls, and beer balls. After you’ve mastered the first ten rules, you’ll still need guidance in the ways of club dating. And if that’s what the good lord put me here for, then damnit, I’ll help you progress further. Here’s the next ten commandments for chasing shots and chasing women. Learn them, live by them, and follow them to the letter! And don’t say I never gave you anything, you ingrates!Rule #11: Adhere To The Rule of Three Bars, Plus One or Thirty
It’s all well and fine and grand and good to have your one favorite bar. Just don’t staple your ass to the stool and petrify yourself there, is all. The discerning club person should go to at least three businesses a night, starting at around nine o’clock. You can mix and match the order in which you attend, but this is the order that works for me:

1. The old stand-by-A place you’ve been to millions of times where you’re juiced in with the bartender and you can get cheap pitchers and reasonable shots. The night will last a lot longer if you don’t piss away a twenty spot on your first two bottles of ale. Trust me.

2. The new place that everybody’s talking about-Clubs are very fickle. Sometimes the place that has go go cages, laser light shows and the heppest dj in town on Friday has tumbleweeds on Saturday. So check the place out for the first time after you’ve got your gameface on, and if it’s cool, you can convert it to bar one. If there’s some balding hairy man polishing the glasses and talking to himself behind the bar when you come in, at least you can say you went to your stand-by and the night wasn’t a total waste.

3. The come-down-This is generally some armpit of a dive of a gin mill. Either that or a strip club. The place to hit at the end of the night when you’re fighting back dealing with the fact that you have to go to work in the morning and you want to hang onto the night for just a little bit longer. Where you can dump a handful of quarters onto the bar and pay for your last drink of the night. Or, in the case of the strip club, where you can max the last ten dollars of your credit card on an ice water plus tip and sort of come to your senses. In either case, a good way to reflect on the events of the evening and put them into some sort of cohesive order.

Rule #12: Never, I Repeat NEVER Buy A Drink For A Girl You’re Not With
If you don’t know her, don’t bother. Talk to her by all means and make sure she doesn’t have an adam’s apple the size of a baseball. Make up a great opening statement. But don’t waste your time and money on some stranger. Some women go throughout their lives without buying a drink. This is wrong. They go out and grift every hard-working, well-intentioned, over-sexed schmuck at every bar in town into bankrolling their propensity for fruity, mouth-wash flavored concoctions. Best case scenario? You get lucky, but if the girl likes you it would’ve happened anyway. Worst case scenario? It accelerates the entire dating process and if you haven’t had a chance to properly represent yourself, they’re gone like a cool breeze. Once I bought a vodka and cranberry for a beautiful Russian college student, took it as a green light, and sat down with her and the rest of the firing squad. After three minutes, she coquettishly whispered “we’ll be right back.” The ten girls proceeded to the polar opposite of the dance floor and never returned. Harsh. Don’t let it happen.

Rule #14: Look Bored No Matter Where You Are
It makes you look experienced and it gives the impression that you lead an adventurous lifestyle. If Roman candles are shooting out of a nineteen year old’s ass in the seat next to you, look the other way and yawn. When Marti-Gras breaks out at the neighborhood watering hole and there are twenty five foot people on stilts wearing masks along with midgets and college chicks dropping trou’ left and right, slowly leaf through your fashion magazine. If Elvis appears and gives a spot-on performance with a talking dog and he proceeds to buy drinks for the whole bar, get up and wander to the bathroom looking slightly pissed and grouchy. And so forth. Perfect a lackluster, world-weary, jesus-there’s- got-to-be-some-place-better-than-this-one look. It’s just plain cool. Let nothing take you by surprise.

Rule #15: Wallpaper Your Heart With Rejections
Much like the publishing adage, it helps to get set up and shot down. You need to develop a reptile-like thick skin. Fly solo; make a kamikaze run into a fleet of beach blonde heartbreakers knowing that there’s an 80% chance that you’ll get your ass handed to you. You have to be scaly in a cosmos of lounge lizards. The more women who laugh in your face, stomp you in the grapes, and toss shots of 151 into your retinas, the better. Practice makes perfect, and with each prospect you can refine your mojo.

Rule #16: Find A Hot Spot For Every Day Of The Week
The place that’s a virtual Valhalla on Friday could be drowning in sad sacks and maniacs. Stake a few places out every night of the week (and for those with no dedication to the power of perseverance, it doesn’t have to be all in the same week) , and find the secret bungalows of boogie down. Ferret out the speakeasys, the hidden gold mines, and homes away from home. Then, after you’ve found their magic night, go back on that night, frequently. Get to be friends with the staff. Tip very well. The industry standard is two dollars on the first drink and one dollar each additional order. If you do that, the bartenders will treat you like somebody important and you’ll get free shit down the road. And we all like free shit. Anybody can find a cool place to go to on a saturday but only the singles maestro can offer up the knack for divining a great place on a wednsday at four p.m. (or four a.m., for that matter).

Rule 17: Be At Home Wherever You Are
Looking great, feeling great, and projecting an air of charm and self-comfort are all great means for snaring the heart of some blonde bombshell. If you’re at home where you are, then you won’t be as anxious or fretful and blow the fantastic vibe that you’re putting out. What the hell! Lay down and take a nap in one of the booths at a club. I’ve done it before with my shirt untucked and my gut hanging out (unfortunately, pictures were taken and distributed throughout Western New York). Take your socks off where you’re sitting and inspect your feet for corns! Walk into the back kitchen and pull a pickle out of the jar and eat it with the refrigerator door open. Take a newspaper into the bathroom. If you’re relaxed, that’s half the battle. Pop a Xanax if you feel the need. Breathing exercises help, or the company of friends. And wearing the pair of jeans that frame your ass perfectly while retaining their comfort and fashion level don’t hurt either.

Rule 18: Talk To A Girl As If It’s A Given That You Want To Go Spelunking In Her Pants
Be honest. You’re not there for manicure advice. You don’t want to discuss the latest relationship feature in the current issue of “Cosmo” and you’re not comparing baking recipes. You’re out at the bar, you’ve approached the girl in question, and you’re sole intention is: getting some. So don’t even discuss it. She knows it, you know it, the whole damn bar knows it. That’s why everybody else is there, too (except for the degenerate in the corner drooling over his QuickDraw ticket and muttering obscenities to himself). Go beyond it. And go straight for the kill. The phone number, the prolonged groping next to the car at the end of the night, or, if you’re lucky, the hot tub at home with the room mate who just happens to be a repressed sexual therapist. Hell, I can dream.

Rule 19: It Never Hurts To Have A Prop
They make great ice-breakers and they arouse curiosity, suspicion, and interest in outside parties. It doesn’t have to be over the top, either. A copy of Esquire, perhaps. If they see something in there that they like they’ll peer over and start talking. If you’re in a pub, take a little chess set. Geeky, but what the hell, maybe you think Daria is hot (if you could splice Daria’s, Janene Garafolo’s, and Bjork’s genes, you’d have the perfect woman as far as I see it). A Gameboy. A pool cue. Old prosthetic limbs. Improvise. Nobody likes to be alone at a bar so we’re all dying for human contact, just to talk to somebody else, ANYBODY else, so we look for a reason to approach a total stranger. Meet them halfway and set your pet porpoise on the stool next to you and make him perform parlor tricks.

Rule 20: Embrace Chaos; You’ve Got Better Odds
I know this armpit of a shit-hole of a bowery bar in Buffalo that all the guys go to. It’s always packed….with a plethora of testicles. Why bother? They’ve got two girls in the whole joint and one of them is there with her obnoxious salesman boyfriend who is going bald at the speed of sound and is obviously ten years older than her. And the other one you wouldn’t want to touch without a protective bubble because she’s had every guy in the bar other than you and looks it. They say you can tell how many guys a girl has been with from the rings around her neck. But I digress. Go to the zoos, the raves, and the techno blowouts hosted by Dj PopinFresh 2000. Even if it’s not your cup of tea, put up with it for a night and see how much better you do as far as picking somebody up. Who would you rather go to work on, the one girl at the pathetic bowery bar or try a few pickup lines on any one of the three hundred girls in chaps and jeans that would require a spot welder to remove line dancing at the honky tonk palladium? Play the percentages, boyo!

I’ll give you one more to grow on because I know you’re trying your best out there and war is hell, so use it wisely!

Rule 21: Eavesdrop, Then Butt In
This doesn’t work in big clubs but if a place is relatively quiet, listen in to your neighbors on the rail. They’re talking in public, it’s no crime if your ear happens to pick up the conversation about how the co-worker broke up with her boyfriend of five years because he cheated on her with the fry girl from Wendy’s and she’s out pounding the pavement for intimate revenge! Listen in, horn in. Interject. Throw in your two cents and see how quickly they open up for a second or third opinion. And then you’re on the ground running. Plus it’s a good way to deduce what their status is. Single, married, divorced, or part of a small Middle Eastern harem.

Well, that’s about it. It took me twenty four solid months of harrowing and selfless research to offer up this cavalcade of advice for you, so use it! Just don’t mack on somebody I’m working over if you see me out, buddy, or I may have to break a tablet or two over your peroxide frosted, over-moussed fat head! Feed a man a fish and he’ll eat for a day, teach a man how to purchase prophylactics and he’ll fish forevermore. It’s tough out there, but you can be the ringmaster of your own destiny if you play your cards right. Have fun and don’t forget your jimmy cap. If there’s one thing I’ve learned it’s that after you work up the nerve to approach someone, it’s all down hill. And if you can pull it off once, you can do it a million times. Some of us don’t find our mates in college, or at work, or in massage parlors. And we have a lot more fun doing it. And if you crash in burn? At least you copped a buzz, saw your favorite bartender, and you were and the company of friends.

By Tom “the warts have gone away, can I buy you a drink?” Waters

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