Prive, like most clubs, don't have toilets for men. They just allow the men to use the women's washroom if they need to yak or go for the number 2. And number 2 happens at clubs alot more often than people think, mainly for 2 reasons: 1. Clubbing comes after dinner, and most people have big meals on friday or saturday nights. You do the math. 2. Everyone gets a little nervous going out, it's a biological response. Our bodies know where doing something exciting and different so our bowels move. (It's like going to the strip club in college, I always really needed to take a dump before I went to Whiskey A-Go Go, because I was so nervous to see a hot naked women on stage - and I know alot of guys who were the same.)
Indeed, I've come to enjoy my number 2 at Prive, especially since it's, for the most part, much cleaner than clubs I've been to in the past (especially in college back in Toronto, like the Phoenix or the Joker- a time and places when and where open sewage was widely tolerated and too this very day is brought up frequently in third year Greek bathhouse architecture classes at UofT.) I also do prefer hitting the club early, so I can have some well needed chat time with my boys before they turn up the volume.
As for keeping the seat clean, I am a big subscriber to the diamond formation toilet paper treatment. I usually tear off four medium-length pieces of toilet paper, each approximately three squares, and lay them down in a diamond shape so that all the important angles on the seat are covered. What I don't understand, however, is how these seats get wet in the first place. All too often I will one of the first guys in the evening to get in one of the stalls, a women's stall. And I don't mean "drizzled" - I mean completely soaked. It's unnerving.
I like my nasty, but even after closing the door behind me, and turning around to see that kind of a mess gives me pause. One day, I gathered the nerve to ask a friend of mine. She explained that most girls just squat over the seat, some girls actually stand on the toilet and squat down (semi-mainland styles), and a only small population actually bother to clean it up. They do it sometimes together so that one girl can hold onto the other for balance.
After she told me this, my imagination went wild. Before, it was really a mystery to me and something I never gave much thought. Sometimes, I'd secretly hope that the men's washroom was full, so that I could wait in line and gaze at the talent coming in and out of the stalls. These really hot girls go in...and then they come out. They tease their hair up a bit, put on that bitch cold look on their faces for the boys looking in from the line, and that's it. What happens in between is something of beautiful myth. Maybe they have a little squirt, spray a bit of perfume, and then come out. Sometimes they go in together, and the guys - those of us waiting in line - we just assume they're in there snorting a few lines of coke followed by a brief but hot closet bi-sexual make out session. That's what they do, right?
Turns out they do that and more - they also get naked, kick themselves up into a frenzy, waterjet the walls, seats, and soda fountain each other - like it's Songkran in Samui. It's one big golden car wash in there! And it must be alot of fun, because by the time I get in there, the place is soaked in fluids.
There is also the slight possibility that a guy was in there earlier, and he was just peeing with the seat down. But I like my version better.
Showing posts with label pickup artist. Show all posts
Showing posts with label pickup artist. Show all posts
Monday, June 15, 2009
Monday, January 19, 2009
Hulk vs. Pussy
I hate anti-comformists. In a city that has one of the highest 3G penetration rates in the world and generally a very tech accepting population, I still come across a lot of people very resistant to the iPhone. And despite what I consider a very thorough education campaign to ease the legitimate concerns – there is still an incredible amount of skepticism or stubbornness. Having said that, it is still a very expensive piece of technology despite prices coming down by about 20%. But there is tremendous satisfaction. So I’ll just say this once: 1) the keyboard is very easy to use, because of its predictive programming. You just need to mash the word in to the keyboard with approximate accuracy. Fat fingers are fine. 2) You can personalize it with cool decals – the same thick stickers you see on cars. Gelaskins is my favorite, because the promoted artists do gorgeous and cool work, the material and adhesive of the decal is done by 3m, but they do take 2 weeks to ship because they’re made in Canada. You can find them at Windsor House in Causeway, but they’re substantially more expensive at around HK$260 a piece. 3) You can play facebook poker from your iPhone. The app is called Live Poker.
Different players, different game. I think one of the more important life lessons I’ve learnt is that everyone, while made equal, none of us are interchangeable. That goes for approach kung fu as well. Bruce had it right for the start, I think. Jeet-Kun do is in fact an illustration of how there is no set way, that each fighter must develop his or her own optimum technique based on their own physiology, temperament, and spot progress. Some are team players, and some aren’t. Even within a team, players differ in strategy. Cyclops has ranged attack but vulnerable in close quarters. Colossus, on the other hand, needs to get up close and personal - low mobility but high impact in the hand-to-hand. They compliment each other, and there is a clear synergy. And then, there are players whom you need to have around, just because they have that something about them, that special power that attracts pure action. They come alive at the tipping point of devastation, and are often perceived as both pacifying and volatile – but never at the same time. Rarely troublesome in sober environments, their status is binary – On or OFF. Blue Chip Rock solid or Chuck Norris Nuclear. Nothing in between.
In my current team, the Hulk, is one such character. A respected lawyer, he is well liked for his antics, sharp tongue, and blatant disregard for impudent AMOGs and half-baked Cockblocks. He is cultured, musically talented, and immensely knowledgeable. He finds tremendous satisfaction driving his body TO the limit – HIT the limit, and then he’ll go another 50 miles, burn down a forest, and jump naked into an arctic lake – all just to scratch an itch on his balls. He is carnal but an inborn sense of justice makes him a protective friend and an explosive catalyst for ‘Yo, this shit is going DOWN!’
Strangely, women feel safe around him because of this. And because he’s an animal, they can spot him from afar. They sniff him out from across the room, track him down, coil up in heated anticipation and pounce on him, just like them crazy ass hyenas in Lion King.
So it's not surprising, his game appears to be far more successful in the absence of his crew than attacking alongside us. And just like in the movie, we’ve discovered that the best way to make use of the Hulk is to use him like a godamn pussybomb. We have a recipe, but this is a work in progress:
Recipe for 1 Hulk Pussybomb.
Different players, different game. I think one of the more important life lessons I’ve learnt is that everyone, while made equal, none of us are interchangeable. That goes for approach kung fu as well. Bruce had it right for the start, I think. Jeet-Kun do is in fact an illustration of how there is no set way, that each fighter must develop his or her own optimum technique based on their own physiology, temperament, and spot progress. Some are team players, and some aren’t. Even within a team, players differ in strategy. Cyclops has ranged attack but vulnerable in close quarters. Colossus, on the other hand, needs to get up close and personal - low mobility but high impact in the hand-to-hand. They compliment each other, and there is a clear synergy. And then, there are players whom you need to have around, just because they have that something about them, that special power that attracts pure action. They come alive at the tipping point of devastation, and are often perceived as both pacifying and volatile – but never at the same time. Rarely troublesome in sober environments, their status is binary – On or OFF. Blue Chip Rock solid or Chuck Norris Nuclear. Nothing in between.
In my current team, the Hulk, is one such character. A respected lawyer, he is well liked for his antics, sharp tongue, and blatant disregard for impudent AMOGs and half-baked Cockblocks. He is cultured, musically talented, and immensely knowledgeable. He finds tremendous satisfaction driving his body TO the limit – HIT the limit, and then he’ll go another 50 miles, burn down a forest, and jump naked into an arctic lake – all just to scratch an itch on his balls. He is carnal but an inborn sense of justice makes him a protective friend and an explosive catalyst for ‘Yo, this shit is going DOWN!’
Strangely, women feel safe around him because of this. And because he’s an animal, they can spot him from afar. They sniff him out from across the room, track him down, coil up in heated anticipation and pounce on him, just like them crazy ass hyenas in Lion King.
So it's not surprising, his game appears to be far more successful in the absence of his crew than attacking alongside us. And just like in the movie, we’ve discovered that the best way to make use of the Hulk is to use him like a godamn pussybomb. We have a recipe, but this is a work in progress:
Recipe for 1 Hulk Pussybomb.
- Drag your Hulk to a dark corner,
- Stuff him in a large container – a cage will do,
- Inject him with a tray of jager bombs,
- Instruct the resident DJ to turn up the volume and play Kanye’s ,“Stronger,”
- Rattle the fucking cage
- Lob the now enraged, drunken motherfucker it into the zone with the most pussy-per-square-inch. Period.
- Wait for the first scream, and count to 15.
We did this a few months ago, just for kicks, the asshole came back with a truckload of collateral damage, he had panties coming out of his ears; and there was so much lipstick on his face, he looked like he’d been angel kissing the Brazilian volleyball team on Japanese Flag Day. “Candy, Rose, Amber, Jessica, and I think your name is Cindy – let me introduce you to my good friends; they're arms dealers by day and dildo models by night.” Team fucking player. When asked how he met them, there was some story about snapping some asshole’s neck, getting asked about his gold Roger Dubois while he was attempting a one-handed "through-the-fabric" bra-snap. Unstoppable.
My point is this: Every team needs a Hulk, whether your strategy is light recon or structured pawning. Having them around certainly entails pricing in a high risk of bar fights, but because of they have the special ability to somehow turn everything fucking upside down when you least suspect it – a complete waste of a night can just as easily turn into a brilliant one. They have a mutable role of being the brains during delecate negotiations and the brawn during heated pissing contests. But they tend to dramatically improve your chances of a Hail Mary score.
Phalimus out.
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