meeting girls is easy
though the nights are immeasurably different, days in houston aren't all that different than days in austin when I was at school. I casually roll out of the rack, get ready to face the day, and pretend that I'm actually doing something important/productive (i.e. going to class to not pay attention::going to work to pretend to work), occasionally taking a break to check my email or shove some form of sustenance in my face. the only difference is that, according to dr. neil frank, h-town is officially hotter than ryan reynold's testicles. thus, my immobility in houston is dictated by the heat, while my immobility in austin was controlled by my status as one of the ten laziest ass clowns in the united states. maybe I should move so I can feel better about myself. for I'm feeling very undude in this city. too much shit going on around me, my presence being requested in too many places at once...I am but only one man.
last night, I finally decided to pry myself off the couch and venture out into the evening. the plan was to shoot the shit, low-key style. the powers that be decided to throw me for a loop. intially, I wasn't too thrilled about the prospect of having to roll into a pseudo-mexican restaurant sporting flip-flops and a wrinkled shirt.
this did not, however, keep me from tucking in my shirt and going out last night. beautiful babies that want to party wait for no man, appropriate attire or no.
my goal for the evening was to behave and not make a fool out of myself. and then maybe, just maybe, lure one or two of the ladies back to my den of iniquity. I don't know if you could still call them ladies after they cross my threshold. this involved much time being quiet and dropping a sympathy chuckle here and there. it's just as well though. I wasn't too much into drinking.
we got promptly booted out of this joint, because we started popping all the ballons and the girls were giving the pinata a full rectal exam. the skirts still wanted to party. the obvious solution was to hit one of several thousand strip clubs in the greater houston area, but somehow, I resisted and didn't voice my suggestion. apparently the lure of comically large saline tiggies isn't enough to pull me away from the prospect of getting to know a girl well the first time I met her.
I know. I'm disappointed in myself too...someone suggested we go to a pub
seeing as how I am lucky enough to be both cheap and terminally lameass, a drunkfest seemed to be a bigger draw for me than snorting coke off a stripper's big fake bosom.
seeing as how I shun what most dudes consider to be the pinnacle of the houston experience for a pint glass full of oat soda, I think I can officially give up all hope that I might someday become a badass.
if I can't be a badass in the general sense, I figured I might as well be a badass in the field of turning a fistfull of quarters into sweet tunes blasted by the jukebox. and whooing ladies with my exquisite taste in music. mission accomplished. my work here is done.
sponge bob
though the nights are immeasurably different, days in houston aren't all that different than days in austin when I was at school. I casually roll out of the rack, get ready to face the day, and pretend that I'm actually doing something important/productive (i.e. going to class to not pay attention::going to work to pretend to work), occasionally taking a break to check my email or shove some form of sustenance in my face. the only difference is that, according to dr. neil frank, h-town is officially hotter than ryan reynold's testicles. thus, my immobility in houston is dictated by the heat, while my immobility in austin was controlled by my status as one of the ten laziest ass clowns in the united states. maybe I should move so I can feel better about myself. for I'm feeling very undude in this city. too much shit going on around me, my presence being requested in too many places at once...I am but only one man.
last night, I finally decided to pry myself off the couch and venture out into the evening. the plan was to shoot the shit, low-key style. the powers that be decided to throw me for a loop. intially, I wasn't too thrilled about the prospect of having to roll into a pseudo-mexican restaurant sporting flip-flops and a wrinkled shirt.
this did not, however, keep me from tucking in my shirt and going out last night. beautiful babies that want to party wait for no man, appropriate attire or no.
my goal for the evening was to behave and not make a fool out of myself. and then maybe, just maybe, lure one or two of the ladies back to my den of iniquity. I don't know if you could still call them ladies after they cross my threshold. this involved much time being quiet and dropping a sympathy chuckle here and there. it's just as well though. I wasn't too much into drinking.
we got promptly booted out of this joint, because we started popping all the ballons and the girls were giving the pinata a full rectal exam. the skirts still wanted to party. the obvious solution was to hit one of several thousand strip clubs in the greater houston area, but somehow, I resisted and didn't voice my suggestion. apparently the lure of comically large saline tiggies isn't enough to pull me away from the prospect of getting to know a girl well the first time I met her.
I know. I'm disappointed in myself too...someone suggested we go to a pub
seeing as how I am lucky enough to be both cheap and terminally lameass, a drunkfest seemed to be a bigger draw for me than snorting coke off a stripper's big fake bosom.
seeing as how I shun what most dudes consider to be the pinnacle of the houston experience for a pint glass full of oat soda, I think I can officially give up all hope that I might someday become a badass.
if I can't be a badass in the general sense, I figured I might as well be a badass in the field of turning a fistfull of quarters into sweet tunes blasted by the jukebox. and whooing ladies with my exquisite taste in music. mission accomplished. my work here is done.
sponge bob
