Evening gents.
Here it is, in all its glory: the best weekend I've ever had.
Let me start by asking you a question. If you were single, and heading up to a rugby tournament with 25 women's rugby teams in attendance, would you try at every opportunity to have a threesome with 2 props? A bit of maths: in the binary code-0=no, 1=yes. 0+0=1. You with me? Good.
I wake up on Friday morning with my boss' underwear I picked up from the street the night before in my back pocket. Jump in the shower and head over to the pitch where I meet a member of the touring party, Craig, and give him a lift on the 6 hour road trip. I don't know Craig that well, and he seems a little shy and timid. I think he is going to be square-I know he is a straight A student, just graduated and heading to Medical School. Should be an interesting car ride, but I don't care-we have his dad's toll pass and he is splitting the cost of fuel.
I'm 20 minutes late. My boss rings and I talk to her about how I fucked her in a back alley, Craig laughs when I tell him I've had my boss at least once a week since I've got here. This gets him in the mood to talk. He's not very good looking, ginger, and has some pretty terrible ink. Looks like the type who may have had a long term bird.
Craig starts telling me about a party he had the night before-he invited all the good-looking girls from his med school's orienteering face book group round to his house. 30 turned up. He said it was so weird being at a party with too many girls-he had to get some mates round. He shagged a hottie apparently. Good for you Craig. We trade uni stories and tell each other what great lads we are. I out lad him with my 'number facking 19' story, and big guy's 'tampon story' from 1st year.
I get lost, take a 120 mile detour and end up getting there in 9 hours. We are near the Canadian border, at the biggest rugby tournament in the continent. Over 100 teams, 75 mens, 25 women's. 32 in our division-the aptly named 'social division'. Get to our hotel, we are sharing 1 room with 1 double bed between 4 of us. I therefore start drinking. At first I didn't want to drink too much, as we had an 8am game, but 3 hours later, this has gone out the window. This is mainly due to the fact it's fucking freezing and I brought no warm weather clothes.
We head into town, to a bar. On the way, the police stop up as we are drinking from red cups.
Policeman: "I'm going to have to take your names, show me some ID"
My mate: "Sure officer, was it the red cups that gave it away?"
"Yeah, but it doesn't matter what colour they are, you can't drink in the street"
Me: "But sir, I'm colour blind, how was I meant to know!"
I know this isn't particularly witty, or clever, but thank god he saw the funny side, and said us British guys crack him up every year at this tournament. All the women’s rugby players are out in force. I am thinking hard about whether or not I want to shag a prop. I do. But do they want to shag me? They are all pulling each other. I get a big drink at the bar and talk to as many 'girls' as possible. I start pulling a really fat bird who plays flanker. Her mate walks by, and she is jacked. So I start hitting on her. My line of: "wow, they are some big arms. Arm wrestle me." would have been smooth if I hadn't backed myself to beat her. I loose. I am forced to do shots, lots of them. In my defense, I later find out she used to be a man, but is a post op transexual. The worst part about this is the guys who told me swarmed around her, and like vultures they start to feast. On her/his face. Very strange, but they don't play with my team.
I'm at the bar, really hammering down some shots. All these girls are hideous. A couple good looking ones, but I ruin it with them by putting my fingers up their noses. I pick a fatty. I head over to a prop. She is really rank. She leans in to my face, I play it cool by turning my head away. She doesn't play it so cool. She puts her hand down my trousers, and whispers: "I'm not a lesbian, take me home". Yes. The girl is so ugly, I have to be told by herself she isn't a lesbian. My cock is now fully out in this bar, but it about as hard as 87 after he gets hit in syndicate and has to be taken home by Rhythm (a very in joke that one). I try and finger her on the dance floor to get myself hard.
She gives me a funny look, so I tell her I'll go to the toilet, and see if I can get myself hard, and then I'll fuck her senseless. A great move. I head to the loo, without initially doing up my fly, and having my trousers fall down momentarily. I spend 10 minutes getting myself ready in the toilet, I walk out and what do I see? Craig, the bastard, has her hand down his jeans. I take her hand and walks off! Shit. I move on, and sticking with my front row theme, I hook up. (GAG!) I am getting with this girl who is distinctly better looking. I must ask her about 15 times to come back to mine. 15 times she tells me I'm too drunk and won't be able to get it up. I don't try to argue-I know it's true.
I wander home at 3 singing Yogi Bear to myself. Set my alarm for 6:30 for our 8am game. Craig gets in at 6:15 and wakes me up.
"Mate, how was she, you dick, you got mine!"
"Errr, which one?"
"What the fuck?!!"
Turns out he goes back, and they wake up her team mate, who knocks on the door and asks to join in, and shags them both, does one up the arse whilst she goes down on the other. I am so angry-I could have had the threesome. Both 0s on the scale, but 0+0=1. Simple maths.
Our game comes around. We saw the other team out the night before, they don't show up, so forfeit. I go find another team to play for. Boston needs and inside centre. Up steps Hunter. First possession, inside centre crash. I knock, the obviously still drunk, opposite centre flat on his arse, run through and pass beautifully off my left hand to the winger who finishes. I've been doing this for years. They are shit. The other team starts to come back, but I smash the centre, he's having a tough day. I get the ball, step him, run 50 metres, pass the ball off, other guy gets tackled, I clear out, quick ball, and we score. I am literally unstoppable. Our hooker gets injured, I move there, and they bring on a replacement back. I stable up the scrum, and throw perfect line outs! (I know!)
The funny thing about Americans playing rugby is, whenever they tackle anyone, score a try or pass the ball, they slap themselves on the chest in an aptly display of poorly self perceived alpha-maleness. It's stupid. (reminds me of a certain game I played in at uni Jack)
The guys from Boston come up to me after and tell me I was MVP (most valuable player, cheers boys) and my beer glass will be overflowing later that night. Very good. Next game at 1, so I head over to the physio tent, complaining about my shoulder. She's not bad you know. I chat to her. Start complaining about my leg. Say I am stupidly inflexible. I get her to show me some groin stretches. I am there stretching my groin, and 3 of my team mates walk by and start laughing.
"Hi boys, sorry was just showing Christina how to stretch her groin-she's a little tight"
No one laughed. She gave me a weird look. I was laughing.
We play our next game, and I start at prop. I am so versatile. I am in support of our outside centre, get the ball, step the fullback and I'm in for my first try of the day. (Incidentally, last try of the day) A few rucks, tackles and runs later, I get moved back to centre. This guy is distinctly better, and I get found out. But as I am being subbed off, I get a loud applause from the boys on the touch line. MVP again, this is embarrassing. Pound for pound, I am so good.
I take a nap before our last game at 5. A team mate of mine, Dave, runs over to me saying he has seen the two girls Craig had from the night before. We grab Craig and head over. We watch them and cheer them on. A personal favorite after one of them gets hit from Craig: "second time you've gone down hard in 12 hours." She goes red.
Last game of the day, we win, we are in the semis. We lose; we don't have a game the next day. It's decision time, they are a bunch of cunts and we want to win. We also want to drink, and the day has been painful. Up 12-0 at half time, we lose to a last minute try and conversion, 14-12. Gutted. But the motto does go: "win or lose, on the booze"
I get a bottle of Jaegermeister and 4 cans of red bull, 4 hot dogs for the grill. I am buzzing after it all and we head into town. We go to one bar, and sing rugby songs until my head hurts. Me and my friend get naked in the bar. We get asked to leave. Go to the next bar, see the guys from Boston. All of a sudden, a guy wearing a miniskirt has bought me 6 pints and I'm chinning them. I really don't need any more booze. Next bar. Start chatting to a vaguely hot girl.
"What do you do?"
"I'm a physio"
"YES!! You helped me with my shoulder, and laughed at me for being in flexible"
She laughs at me more, we flirt loads and I pull her. She's a local, and not a rugby player, great news. We head onto the club. When I say "we" in this context, I really mean me, on my own, thinking my friends are in tow. They aren't. I need to piss. Two guys occupying urinals in the mens so I bet another guy 10 dollars the one on the right finishes first. Game on. We start supporting our race horses. I ask to see what I'm working with, and he shows me. Yes, he's definitely a stallion. My competitor, to make up for inferior equipment shouts a lot of encouragement. Too much, the horse falls at the first fence. Stage fright has hit the poor lad, and my horse takes it with ease. 10 dollars in my back pocket. I piss, and finish before the other guy who still has stage fright and probably wants to die. I turn around, satisfied in my winnings to see, to my horror, 3 of the guys on my team standing there with their mouths open. They apparently have seen me take 10 dollars off someone, pat a guy on the arse and shout "well done" at his penis. This must look odd.
The girls toilets has a huge queue, so I make this my base for the evening. When is a better time to pick up a woman than when they are queuing. They are stuck there. I see the physio. I pull her. It's easy to talk here as the music isn't so loud-girls start hearing my accent and flock to me. A really quite good looking girl who looks half chinese, half arabic comes and starts talking to me. She is from Turkey and is working at one of the hotels cleaning rooms for the summer. She tells me she misses European men as Americans are "needlessly arrogant" I agree. And pull her. Head to the dance floor with her. Grinding like a mad man. Hard penis? Feel like I'm capable. Very good. Time to ask her if she wants to go. Leave with her 'for air'. She lives just opposite the club. Can't go back to hers as she lives in a flat of 9 Eastern European cleaners and they have a 'mother of the house' she sounds more and more like an illegal prostitute. We go for a walk down to the lake. I give her so much cheese. American guys are walking by throwing up. I tell her how trashy I think that is. I am far more mature, and the surroundings are so beautiful, why waste your time here by getting to drunk? She gets my knob out and gives me head by the lake for an hour. I cum in her mouth and walk her home.
“DO you have a phone number, I’d like to see you tomorrow before I go.”
“No, but I have an email address”
“That works”
I take it and walk home. Who seriously gives an email address? On my walk home at 3, I ring Craig.
"Mate what you up to?"
"Me, Dave, Blake, Mike and Jeff are at these girls house, come here."
I don't need to be asked twice. I find it 10 minutes later. They are all hideous, seriously ugly girls. Half of them are going out with each other. Dave takes a girl to one bedroom. Mike follows to the same room with a different girl. They have sex at the same time. Mike finishes first, and gives Dave some encouragement. Dave later goes on to say: "thank god, mike was there, he was the best looking in the room, and his encouragement kept my erection"
Craig has been working on these two lesbians. They are giving it chat about how one has never shagged a guy and the other wants to watch her first time with a boy. Craig, Jeff and I are all vying for this position. I have the feeling it's just chat though. They go upstairs and shut the door. Craig is angry so heads up to grab a jumper for the walk home. Jeff, Blake and I wait by the door. He comes back with a jumper, pulls it on for the walk home. One girl comes running out in a towel: "Craig, come back, we aren't done with you"
One word: Cunt. 2 threesomes in 2 nights. These two aren't great either, but fuck it. Although according to them he was so drunk he went and stood by the door for 20 minutes just watching them lick each other out.
Jeff Blake and I go home.
Wake up at 11:30 the next day, jump in a car and head to watch the finals. I fully expect to be driving home after the final. Someone puts a beer in my hand, and I start drinking. Someone gives me a premixed vodka energy drink, and I drink it. Someone hands me a margarhitta, and I drink it. I'm hammered and it's 4pm.
The girls from the house are sitting in the shade in a tent. Bails of hay line the pitch. Dave, hammered, grabs two bails and chucks them in. What's he doing? Then it happens. He shouts: "FEEDING TIME!!" A stunned silence. Then raucous applause and laughter, high fives and cheering. The 6 girls descend on him and lay into him. "Not me, not me, the hay, the hay!"
One of the best moments of the weekend.
Dave, having recovered from his beating, decides to challenge me to consequence 5s. I loose and have to tackle a huge girl to the ground as she is walking past. I do it. And I run way. Like a twat, but good job. She was a US international prop. Dave is wetting himself. The Irish touring side win the tournament. But no one really cares-they haven't been out in town yet, so of course, completely fresh, they win.
We head home. I am crashing hard. I have work the next day, so tell Craig we are going home. Luckily, I decide to check my email. Both of the managers on my project won't be in until 2 on Monday. Could I get hammered and leave at 6? Why the fuck not. And I am so glad I did.
We go to a microbrewery and drink shit loads, all paid for by one of the older guys who wants us to "do some crazy shit".
Craig and I are in a bar. Putting our fingers on girl’s heads and getting them to spin. One girl doesn't get the game so I tell her she has to spin around and then pull me as I am better looking when she's dizzy. This works. Then she walks off. Odd.
Start talking to an ok looking girl and her friend in the corner by a big map of the world. I decide to have a little fun.
"Where are you from?"
"France" I point at China.
"Yeah, I like France I've been there"
"Well as a French man, it's difficult with the political relations, what with us bordering Pakistan" I point at Pakistan.
"Huh? I don't get it. Are you lying? That says China!"
"Ahh you got me"
"Your not French, you're English!"
"No, actually I'm French. Je parle Anglais comme ca parce que, quand j'etais petit, je suis alle a une ecole Anglais"
"Oh"
"Ah nah I'm lying. I'm American. I grew up in a small community in Pennsylvania called LE Blanc. It's a gated community, and we are all French. The lady that teaches English is from England so I learnt it with an English accent"
"Oh right. I'm from Pennsylvania"
"Then you'll know it, surely?"
"Yeah I do"
She really just said that to make herself not look stupid. I start chatting to her mate, and ask to try on her shoes. We swap shoes and I'm wearing 4 inch heals. I start to dance around, the older man who bought us drinks all night tells me to take them outside for a walk. She follows me. Everyone is happy I’ve picked up at 11:30. This isn’t good enough, she isn’t great. So outside, I take my top and jeans off on the street. I ask her to swap clothes. She takes her dress off. I put it on. I wander back into the bar. Shocked looks everywhere.
“Peter, you left with her 10 minutes again, now you are wearing her clothes?”
“And?”
“Fair play”
We head over to the other bar. In my dress, I’m looking good. I am unstoppable and pretend I am a girl and hit on so many dyke looking girls. One of them puts their hand up my dress to check to see if I’m a girl. I am not. She isn’t interested in a threesome. Speaking of threesomes, I asked Craig to prove that it wasn’t luck, and go for the hat-trick. He’s so drunk, he has passed out in the corner. As he hand leaves my dress, I see the Turkish girl from the night before, looking at me shaking her head. I head over, and get turned down. I swap clothes back and try again. More success, but she is talking to an Irish guy. I get more booze. I pull the girl who was wearing my clothes. Turkish girl sees this. Not impressed. I now make it my mission to shag her.
I chat to her, tell her I’m sorry I didn’t email her, but I had no access to internet. She doesn’t buy it. She isn’t impressed. I try a dance move. A cheeky hip thrust? Works. She’s giggling. I do more. She starts dancing with me.
“My mother isn’t in on Sunday nights”
I grab her hand and we leave. Get to her room. She shares a double bed with another girl, who isn’t back yet. She locks the door. I look at photos on her wall. At home she has to wear the head veil, goes to Mosque and doesn’t drink. A proper Muslim girl. I take her clothes off, and start growling. She has small tits, but a good looking face, a nice arse and a flat stomach. She gets on top and starts grinding, but doesn’t let me penetrate.
“I don’t want to fuck you in the vagina, do me in the arse”
Ok. I need lube. None around. I put a condom on thinking this will give me some grease. Nothing. I rim her. Spit on it. Everything I can think of. Goes in, just the tip. I thrust a couple times, but it’s not fun. “Fuck it, just fuck me:
YEAH!!! I fuck her. I finish up, and she shows me out. I tell her I need to drive in 2 hours as I have work the next day. She says she’ll come and stay at my hotel. Really? Craig in my bed. I need my sleep so I can drive and function the next day. I do a very bad thing. I start running. I don’t look back.
Get it, check my emails, one from my boss telling me to email an partner agency that has been shit. I send a ridiculously rude email to them telling them they’re shit. Seriously, I don’t advise getting home and checking work emails, then sending angry emails to partner agencies, and ccing you boss in. They tend to be jibberish, and they do say sent at 4:35am on them.
I wake up at 6 and drive for 6 hours back and get into work like nothing has happened.
What a great weekend. I question if I’ll top it. Until I come back next year.
Happy hunting.
Peter.
Wednesday 4 August 2010
Monday 2 August 2010
A lot can happen in 3 weeks. Part 1.
Evening gents.
It has been a long time since I have actually managed to sit down and write one of these out. Even the shorter ones take about an hour to write, so really I have been lazy and not done this as I have been dreading the amount of time it will take. But you need this information. Seriously, it's been a good 3 weeks.
Pick up the story from the Wednesday. I have 4 missed calls from a girl I met ages before-the tall blonde one. She wants me to meet them for drinks in town, so I head over. I didn't particularly want to go, but my air conditioning was broken when I got back from rugby. Its about 35 degrees in my flat, and air conditioned bars seemed logical. I knew what would happen. They'd quiz me about my antics with that girl from the Thursday before. I have prepared myself.
'So, Peter, what did you do with Beth? No one has heard from her for 5 days.'
Ok, I hadn't prepared myself. The way she says it really puts me as a prime suspect in her murder.
'Oh really? Well I chopped her up and put her in my freezer after I was through with her'
No real response, definitely not a laugh, and no more questions. Brendon is there and he's hammered as it's his sisters birthday. A skinny lesbian ex heroin addict, (who isn't that bad by the way) tells me she'd fuck me down a back alley, pretty much out of the blue. I tell her I will finish my drink and oblige. I chin it. Stand up and Brendon hands me a condom. She grabs my hand and leads me away. Is it really going to be this easy? I get her to the alley and she starts kissing my cheek. YES!!! Easy. I really have hit the (semi) jackpot. Dirty nosh with a very dirty girl. All of a sudden, she runs away. Literally leaves me high and dry. I think the years of heroin have made her crazy, and I rejoin the party with cheers of rapturous applause from Brendon, Jeff and Pat who have just arrived. Embarrassing, but I accept it, without telling them what actually happens. I chose, at this moment in time, to let people think I am a ledge, without really thinkoing of the consequences. The cheap ego boost, would be a great height to fall from when she returns 20 minutes later and tells them what had actually happened. Now I look like a cunt.
Jeff really likes one of the girls there. Brendon and I have both pulled her before, but we choose not to tell him. She's hammered. Had I known she wanted to fuck me, perhaps I would have behaved myself, but her chat was starting to grate on me. I actually find this about a lot of people here-their chat really gets dull after any more than half an hour. I normally end up trying to offer loads at the start to be friendly and polite, but I get so annoyed with them making the same jokes about tea, how they won the war for us, how we 'suck', trying to imitate my accent and failing miserably, and worst of all the arrogance and pride that beams from their faces when people laugh at these pathetic attempts at wit. In fact, I am fairly drunk, and she has just said another terrible joke. I peel off my flip flop and launch it at her face. It hits her, a great shot from the other side of the table. A great opportunity to use another Austin Powers line and ironically feed their egos. "Seriously, who throws a shoe?!" I crack up. No else really finds it that funny. But hey, as long as you're laughing, you're having a good time, and who really cares what other people think? I throw my other flip flop.
Anyway, I wish I hadn't done this as I lost the chance to have sex with her. Brendon jumps on it. He picks up her phone and reads the serious of text messages between her and her friend aloud to the group.
'Who should I go home with Brendon or Peter?'
'Well Peter is leaving in a month and a half so it wouldn't mean anything. But I've fucked Brendon and he was good'
Ahh the ultimate toss up between guaranteed good sex and venturing into the unknown. Seriously lucky she didn't pick this wild card. I have a tiny Penis. The next line really made me laugh, and meant Brendon came and patted me on the back.
'Well I guess that settles it, why did he throw his shoe?'
Jeff is understandably annoyed. I leave them to fight it out for a while as I have heard another British voice in the bar. Now is the point I eat my words. The guy is a dick. More obnoxious than any American I've met and thus am left believing I must be in a fowl mood. Brendon has vanished with this girl.
Who does that? Brendon and Jeff have been best mates for 15 years, oh well. Jeff bitches to me as he drives me home.
Thursday night comes around, and it's dollar 50 beers and free table football. Great deal. Come up with the great idea to suggest that for every goal the other team scores, you neck that many fingers. So 1st goal: 1 finger, 2nd goal: 2 all the way until 10 fingers go down as you lose the game. Turns out I'm shit at table football. I am wasted. It's so awkward between Brendon and Jeff that I start to feel bad about the jokes I've been making about the situation. Go to another bar, and convince 2 girls I'm from New Zealand. Trying to convince girls I am from ridiculous places has become my new favourite past time, and as you will see later, will become more and more ridiculous as the weeks go on. Not a lot going on in this bar so jump in the middle of a group of average looking girls. Chat to one, offer to buy her a drink. Take her to the bar and let her buy her own pineapple juice-her own fault for driving. Anyway a brief chat later and I pull her and get her number. I have no intention of seeing her again, so it's now or never.
'Fancy coming back to mine?'
'No'
Oh well. I get a lift home after chatting to a good looking girl in the street for a bit.
A friend of mine is coming out the next week. He is actually a director at my company but he is only 27 and is a good bloke, so am looking forward to it. But first I am heading up to Boston.
Leave after work on Friday and get there for 11. My friend is absolutely hammered and has no clue where she is. She eventually finds me and takes me to meet her work mates. Not bad, I get on the booze very quickly. I end up spending very little time with them as I have found a 21 year old at the bar to be my best mate. He is fucking funny, literally doing everything I say. Hitting on anything, even men. I try and get with his mates but no luck, was fun but can't remember details as it was too long ago. But I did get handsy in bed with my friend.
For those of you that haven't been to Boston, go. It is one of the nicest cities in the world, I swear. Good nightlife, friendly people, and some good nosh pie walking about. We go to the beach the next day and go out for a few drinks that night. I drive back on the Sunday feeling a little more cultured after going to the JFK museum in the morning. I'm not gay, so I hit the booze with my boss when I get back. Still no A/C so he is sweating his balls off. To my surprise my other boss (who I've been fucking) is there too. He takes us out for dinner, and she officially tells us she is handing in her resignation the next day. We have a few drinks. She's on the couch tonight, so I pay her a cheeky visit during the night.
Apart from a very boozy Thursday night which led led to me shouting at one the assistants at work that if she: "came into my house, she had to sit down, shut the fuck up and take her top off" as I was standing there in my pants in front of a great deal of colleagues. The week didn't amount to much. Maybe I am saying this so I can get straight to Friday night, which leads nicely in Saturday...
Friday night comes. My boss comes over for some growl. I am playing in a rugby 7s tournament the next day on the Jersey Shore and need somewhere to stay. My boss has a beach house she won't be using. To woo her into letting me use it, I buy her Chinese take away. By buy her, I mean split the bill.
'So what you doing this weekend?'
'Not much, you know just hanging out with my dad whilst my mum's away'
'Oh right, it's a shame you won't be at the shore as I'll be there playing rugby'
'Yeah I know'
'I wanted to go down one weekend to check it out, but I guess we won't be able to do that with you leaving'
'Shit no, and I really wanted you to see my beach house'
'Oh really? is it nice?'
'Really nice'
'Shit, that is a shame...'
'Tell you what, if you promise to keep it clean...
BOSH! Million dollar beach house scored for the weekend.
Saturday comes and I get in my car and pick up Brendon. We sit in traffic for 5 hours, and end up late to the rugby tournament. We lost our first game, so must win our second, in which we are losing by 30 at half time. I play 7 minutes of rugby and chip 3 teeth. What a shit start to my day. Brendon, Ryan and Kyle all come over to the beach house, which is even nicer than I imagined. 4 big rooms, 3 doors from a private beach, 5 plasma screens, hot tub on the roof with sea views.
We are so excited, we forget to eat dinner, which is fucking dangerous. We start with a Jaeger bomb. 3 hours solid boozing later, and we find a bar. Not exactly as chavvy as a scene from the Jersey Shore on MTV, but 'The Stich' like people are about. I am hammered, chatting to anything that moves. The next day Brendon was to tell me he saw me pull 7 girls, 5 of which were bigger than me, 1 ok, and 1 absolutely gorgeous. Kyle and I convince these two hot girls to come back with us. When we get back, I explain to them how I'm French and my German uncle is big in the US real estate market and has just bought this house for his family holidays. We take them to the hot tub. We get them in bra and underwear and we get into our boxers. I get in and take my boxers off. Get a weird look from each one of them, so I pull them up. We hear Brendon come back, female in tow. Straight upstairs. Brendon doesn't fuck about. Gets her naked and into the hot tub and is basically fucking her infront of everyone. She is rough. Our two girls get out, and head downstairs. I take the one I have been getting on with to my boss' couch and start getting with her. Kyle is with his in the kitchen. I lay on the coach. She gets on top....
I wake up 3 hours later fully clothed on the coach with sirens outside. I had passed out whilst a good looking girl was on top of me. This has led to her ordering a taxi for her and her friend, I really fucked kyle over there. But what is this siren? Brendon? No, he is downstairs still going at it with his girl. (I later find out he had bent her over me whilst I lay there passed out) Kyle? No, he's passed out. Ryan? Where the fuck had Ryan been? The police had found him. He was 13 miles away when they did, shoeless and shirtless. No one knows the answer to all the questions we have. But a great night. Brendon's big question to me the next day: every single girls saw you pull the ugliest girl in there. How did you get such a hot girl to come back with you? People were actually turning away in disgust of the hippo you were kissing. Full marks go to Peter Hunter.
The next week, we go out Thursday night for my boss' leaving do. A really nice Japanese restaurant. One of the senior managers is staying too, so I can't fuck my boss at home. We get drunk and she insists on the back alley. Fair enough. Get head and fuck her for a while before returning home to find him sitting there listening to piano recitals. Weird. Claire is staying too and she is passed out on my bed, I go and jump in bed with her. My boss joins. I fuck her right next to claire, and she doesn't even flinch.
The next day, I am driving up to lake Placid in upstate new york for the annual Canadian-American rugby tournament. This turns out to be the best weekend of my life, bar none. So good it deserves its own blog post. It had every element of a top weekend away: rugby, booze, bbqs, gambling, nudity, hot girls, fat girls, Turkish girls, dykes, fingering on the dance floor, anal sex, 3 somes, hot tubs and cross dressing.
I for one am going again next year. Wait for the next installment of America Bosh to see why you will be joining me.
Happy hunting
Peter.
It has been a long time since I have actually managed to sit down and write one of these out. Even the shorter ones take about an hour to write, so really I have been lazy and not done this as I have been dreading the amount of time it will take. But you need this information. Seriously, it's been a good 3 weeks.
Pick up the story from the Wednesday. I have 4 missed calls from a girl I met ages before-the tall blonde one. She wants me to meet them for drinks in town, so I head over. I didn't particularly want to go, but my air conditioning was broken when I got back from rugby. Its about 35 degrees in my flat, and air conditioned bars seemed logical. I knew what would happen. They'd quiz me about my antics with that girl from the Thursday before. I have prepared myself.
'So, Peter, what did you do with Beth? No one has heard from her for 5 days.'
Ok, I hadn't prepared myself. The way she says it really puts me as a prime suspect in her murder.
'Oh really? Well I chopped her up and put her in my freezer after I was through with her'
No real response, definitely not a laugh, and no more questions. Brendon is there and he's hammered as it's his sisters birthday. A skinny lesbian ex heroin addict, (who isn't that bad by the way) tells me she'd fuck me down a back alley, pretty much out of the blue. I tell her I will finish my drink and oblige. I chin it. Stand up and Brendon hands me a condom. She grabs my hand and leads me away. Is it really going to be this easy? I get her to the alley and she starts kissing my cheek. YES!!! Easy. I really have hit the (semi) jackpot. Dirty nosh with a very dirty girl. All of a sudden, she runs away. Literally leaves me high and dry. I think the years of heroin have made her crazy, and I rejoin the party with cheers of rapturous applause from Brendon, Jeff and Pat who have just arrived. Embarrassing, but I accept it, without telling them what actually happens. I chose, at this moment in time, to let people think I am a ledge, without really thinkoing of the consequences. The cheap ego boost, would be a great height to fall from when she returns 20 minutes later and tells them what had actually happened. Now I look like a cunt.
Jeff really likes one of the girls there. Brendon and I have both pulled her before, but we choose not to tell him. She's hammered. Had I known she wanted to fuck me, perhaps I would have behaved myself, but her chat was starting to grate on me. I actually find this about a lot of people here-their chat really gets dull after any more than half an hour. I normally end up trying to offer loads at the start to be friendly and polite, but I get so annoyed with them making the same jokes about tea, how they won the war for us, how we 'suck', trying to imitate my accent and failing miserably, and worst of all the arrogance and pride that beams from their faces when people laugh at these pathetic attempts at wit. In fact, I am fairly drunk, and she has just said another terrible joke. I peel off my flip flop and launch it at her face. It hits her, a great shot from the other side of the table. A great opportunity to use another Austin Powers line and ironically feed their egos. "Seriously, who throws a shoe?!" I crack up. No else really finds it that funny. But hey, as long as you're laughing, you're having a good time, and who really cares what other people think? I throw my other flip flop.
Anyway, I wish I hadn't done this as I lost the chance to have sex with her. Brendon jumps on it. He picks up her phone and reads the serious of text messages between her and her friend aloud to the group.
'Who should I go home with Brendon or Peter?'
'Well Peter is leaving in a month and a half so it wouldn't mean anything. But I've fucked Brendon and he was good'
Ahh the ultimate toss up between guaranteed good sex and venturing into the unknown. Seriously lucky she didn't pick this wild card. I have a tiny Penis. The next line really made me laugh, and meant Brendon came and patted me on the back.
'Well I guess that settles it, why did he throw his shoe?'
Jeff is understandably annoyed. I leave them to fight it out for a while as I have heard another British voice in the bar. Now is the point I eat my words. The guy is a dick. More obnoxious than any American I've met and thus am left believing I must be in a fowl mood. Brendon has vanished with this girl.
Who does that? Brendon and Jeff have been best mates for 15 years, oh well. Jeff bitches to me as he drives me home.
Thursday night comes around, and it's dollar 50 beers and free table football. Great deal. Come up with the great idea to suggest that for every goal the other team scores, you neck that many fingers. So 1st goal: 1 finger, 2nd goal: 2 all the way until 10 fingers go down as you lose the game. Turns out I'm shit at table football. I am wasted. It's so awkward between Brendon and Jeff that I start to feel bad about the jokes I've been making about the situation. Go to another bar, and convince 2 girls I'm from New Zealand. Trying to convince girls I am from ridiculous places has become my new favourite past time, and as you will see later, will become more and more ridiculous as the weeks go on. Not a lot going on in this bar so jump in the middle of a group of average looking girls. Chat to one, offer to buy her a drink. Take her to the bar and let her buy her own pineapple juice-her own fault for driving. Anyway a brief chat later and I pull her and get her number. I have no intention of seeing her again, so it's now or never.
'Fancy coming back to mine?'
'No'
Oh well. I get a lift home after chatting to a good looking girl in the street for a bit.
A friend of mine is coming out the next week. He is actually a director at my company but he is only 27 and is a good bloke, so am looking forward to it. But first I am heading up to Boston.
Leave after work on Friday and get there for 11. My friend is absolutely hammered and has no clue where she is. She eventually finds me and takes me to meet her work mates. Not bad, I get on the booze very quickly. I end up spending very little time with them as I have found a 21 year old at the bar to be my best mate. He is fucking funny, literally doing everything I say. Hitting on anything, even men. I try and get with his mates but no luck, was fun but can't remember details as it was too long ago. But I did get handsy in bed with my friend.
For those of you that haven't been to Boston, go. It is one of the nicest cities in the world, I swear. Good nightlife, friendly people, and some good nosh pie walking about. We go to the beach the next day and go out for a few drinks that night. I drive back on the Sunday feeling a little more cultured after going to the JFK museum in the morning. I'm not gay, so I hit the booze with my boss when I get back. Still no A/C so he is sweating his balls off. To my surprise my other boss (who I've been fucking) is there too. He takes us out for dinner, and she officially tells us she is handing in her resignation the next day. We have a few drinks. She's on the couch tonight, so I pay her a cheeky visit during the night.
Apart from a very boozy Thursday night which led led to me shouting at one the assistants at work that if she: "came into my house, she had to sit down, shut the fuck up and take her top off" as I was standing there in my pants in front of a great deal of colleagues. The week didn't amount to much. Maybe I am saying this so I can get straight to Friday night, which leads nicely in Saturday...
Friday night comes. My boss comes over for some growl. I am playing in a rugby 7s tournament the next day on the Jersey Shore and need somewhere to stay. My boss has a beach house she won't be using. To woo her into letting me use it, I buy her Chinese take away. By buy her, I mean split the bill.
'So what you doing this weekend?'
'Not much, you know just hanging out with my dad whilst my mum's away'
'Oh right, it's a shame you won't be at the shore as I'll be there playing rugby'
'Yeah I know'
'I wanted to go down one weekend to check it out, but I guess we won't be able to do that with you leaving'
'Shit no, and I really wanted you to see my beach house'
'Oh really? is it nice?'
'Really nice'
'Shit, that is a shame...'
'Tell you what, if you promise to keep it clean...
BOSH! Million dollar beach house scored for the weekend.
Saturday comes and I get in my car and pick up Brendon. We sit in traffic for 5 hours, and end up late to the rugby tournament. We lost our first game, so must win our second, in which we are losing by 30 at half time. I play 7 minutes of rugby and chip 3 teeth. What a shit start to my day. Brendon, Ryan and Kyle all come over to the beach house, which is even nicer than I imagined. 4 big rooms, 3 doors from a private beach, 5 plasma screens, hot tub on the roof with sea views.
We are so excited, we forget to eat dinner, which is fucking dangerous. We start with a Jaeger bomb. 3 hours solid boozing later, and we find a bar. Not exactly as chavvy as a scene from the Jersey Shore on MTV, but 'The Stich' like people are about. I am hammered, chatting to anything that moves. The next day Brendon was to tell me he saw me pull 7 girls, 5 of which were bigger than me, 1 ok, and 1 absolutely gorgeous. Kyle and I convince these two hot girls to come back with us. When we get back, I explain to them how I'm French and my German uncle is big in the US real estate market and has just bought this house for his family holidays. We take them to the hot tub. We get them in bra and underwear and we get into our boxers. I get in and take my boxers off. Get a weird look from each one of them, so I pull them up. We hear Brendon come back, female in tow. Straight upstairs. Brendon doesn't fuck about. Gets her naked and into the hot tub and is basically fucking her infront of everyone. She is rough. Our two girls get out, and head downstairs. I take the one I have been getting on with to my boss' couch and start getting with her. Kyle is with his in the kitchen. I lay on the coach. She gets on top....
I wake up 3 hours later fully clothed on the coach with sirens outside. I had passed out whilst a good looking girl was on top of me. This has led to her ordering a taxi for her and her friend, I really fucked kyle over there. But what is this siren? Brendon? No, he is downstairs still going at it with his girl. (I later find out he had bent her over me whilst I lay there passed out) Kyle? No, he's passed out. Ryan? Where the fuck had Ryan been? The police had found him. He was 13 miles away when they did, shoeless and shirtless. No one knows the answer to all the questions we have. But a great night. Brendon's big question to me the next day: every single girls saw you pull the ugliest girl in there. How did you get such a hot girl to come back with you? People were actually turning away in disgust of the hippo you were kissing. Full marks go to Peter Hunter.
The next week, we go out Thursday night for my boss' leaving do. A really nice Japanese restaurant. One of the senior managers is staying too, so I can't fuck my boss at home. We get drunk and she insists on the back alley. Fair enough. Get head and fuck her for a while before returning home to find him sitting there listening to piano recitals. Weird. Claire is staying too and she is passed out on my bed, I go and jump in bed with her. My boss joins. I fuck her right next to claire, and she doesn't even flinch.
The next day, I am driving up to lake Placid in upstate new york for the annual Canadian-American rugby tournament. This turns out to be the best weekend of my life, bar none. So good it deserves its own blog post. It had every element of a top weekend away: rugby, booze, bbqs, gambling, nudity, hot girls, fat girls, Turkish girls, dykes, fingering on the dance floor, anal sex, 3 somes, hot tubs and cross dressing.
I for one am going again next year. Wait for the next installment of America Bosh to see why you will be joining me.
Happy hunting
Peter.
Tuesday 13 July 2010
Bosh me, I'm half way.
Evening gents.
When thinking about what to call this week's post, I suddenly realised I hit the half way mark on Saturday just gone. Fucking hell. Seems ridiculous. It's just going so fast, I don't want to waste another second.
I know I said I wasn't going to talk to much about my 4th of July with my parents, but my grandpa, and dad are such role models, I need to tell you a few stories.
So I drove to Chicago last Friday with my parents. Left at around 4pm, stopped to eat dinner at an Amish farm (very weird by the way). The worst part is my mum made me stop the car as an amish family went by in their cart so she could lean out the window and take photos. She shouts: 'excuse me, can you just stop so I can get a quick picture' I thought that I had grown out of being embarrassed by my mum, but she just keeps pushing the boat out there. Drive until 3am sleep in a services wake up and still have 6 hours to go! Ridiculously long way. Driving in America is fine if you don't have to be anywhere, otherwise, fly.
Story 1 about my grandpa: Wake up on Sunday morning and he's back from church. I ask him how it was. His response: " great, there was a new Japanese female priest, so I turned my hearing aid off, slept, woke up and ate free doughnuts" LAD!! Why the fuck else would you go to church-you please your wife, get to sleep, and eat for free!
Story 2: I'm heading into town with my grandma and mum. He asks where if I'm off with two women. Then he goes: "Boy, you aren't your grandpa, you couldn't handle two women at once. Boy, I bet you couldn't even handle one!" threesome loving grandpa.
Story 3: The man is on permanent oxygen for a lung condition so has to remained attached to a tank with tubes up his nose. This has meant his Tuesday drinks at the pub have had to stop. Does this stop him? No!! He calls it 'Stupid Tuesdays' Gets 8 of his best mates round to his, forces my grandma to put out snacks, gets her to mix a round of gins, and then tells her to go lie down for 3 hours. The 9 of them (this time including my dad and me) get stupidly drunk and chat about birds!! They are all about 95!
Story 1 about my dad: This really gave me new found respect for the man. At stupid Tuesday, one of my grandpa's friend's turns to me and says: 'boy, you want to hear a story about your dad?' Obviously I do. "Your dad was working for me back in the 70s. His first job out of school as a factory manager. A really shit job comes up in the middle of Oregon. No one wants to fucking do it, so we send your dad. I eventually felt so bad for the guy, I head out and check everything's ok. Get there and ask the client how he was doing. He tells me this: 'That son of a bitch is the best god damn factory manager I've worked with. I just have one issue with him....that cunt turns up to work from a different fucking direction every single day of the week'" LAD!!
Story 2: Same day, before stupid Tuesdays, my dad had been down at the local pub catching up with some school friends. So is fairly deep when he gets back. After stupid Tuesday, he is sloppy. Slurring every word imaginable. Too drunk to even make a dad gag. I've stopped drinking as I am driving home-expecting Robin the next day. Me and my dad go down to the pub for him to have another drink away from mum who has become more and more angry with him. He's steaming when we get back. I'm saying good bye to my family and he has passed out on a stool and proceeds, mid hug with my grandma, to fall off it. He gets up, proclaims he is ok, and tries to kiss my mum. She is having none of it, so decides to go and get my stuff to put in the car. He does it, on the way back into the house, decides he needs to pee, so does what any natural bloke would-go in the flower bed. Although, he picks the flowerbed outside the living room window. Me, my mum, his 2 sisters, his brother, my 2 cousins, their girlfriends, and his parents see him piss into the flower bed with a big grin on his face. Everyone saw his wang.
Reflecting on this story-this is the first time in my life it's clicked. I've always wondered what people talk about when they talk about their 'crazy inappropriate uncle'. I've never had one. I now realise the reason-I don't actually have one, my cousins do.
Role models.
Anyway on with my life.
When I was in Chicago, my two cousins had their birds with them. They are both smoking hot. A lot of my family asked me how it's going with American girls and I always responded with-oh you know, not too badly. My Aunt scoffed and told me that she didn't believe me with my accent. My youngest cousin has just finished 1st year uni. He was running back on his high school football team, and captain of the athletics club, competing in state championships. Prom king, the full works. He joined a frat and picked up the hottest sorority girl there is. Great face, massive cans, flat stomach, tiny waist, cracking rump, sensational pins. His elder brother's bird is not as hot, but a definite 1. I was sitting and chatting to them, ask them a question. They look at each other and giggle. Ask another, they giggle again. What is actually happening? Am I flirting with my cousin's birds at a family dinner? If I am, I'm doing really well! My cousins come and drag them away. One sits between me and them, and tells me to stop being so charming! I think I told her the dip she made is really nice and I asked her how she made it. This is my biggest success, yet greatest fear at the moment. Girls here like my accent-it makes it too easy. How am I going to get on when I get home?
Head into the city with my other cousin and his fiance for the fireworks. Get fairly drunk, best thing to come out of the evening, was a line my cousin told me- which was later put to great use- the next time a girl comments on your accent and asks you where you're from, just say, 'Ohio' and see what they do.
Get back to mine at 1 on Wednesday. My MD is here again. Robin is meant to be coming up for a couple nights. I'm excited. Then disaster! Voice message off Robin saying he has broken down in Virginia and won't be able to make it! Balls! Was looking forward to that. Especially since he had never been out in the US before (although I think he has now. Robin-how was it?) Hit the town with my MD. 4 21 year old girls walk into the bar, just as I am going to the toilet. Walk out, and he's over there giving it a go! Go over and start chatting. Vaguely ok, but then they leave. We get the opportunity to go to amateur night at the strip club with two guys I play rugby with. Would be pretty awkward with him, so I decline. Had we had more than 1 beer we tell ourselves, we would have done it.
Get in around 2. Struggle through work. Robin might be coming up Thursday for the night. But again disappointment, car not yet fixed. So I hit the town with 3 mates from rugby-Jeff, Brendon and Pat. Get pretty drunk, decide I actually am low on chat that night (perhaps because of my hangover, perhaps because Robin never came?) so I decide to get more pissed. Head to a bar with a dance floor. Leaning at the bar, offering nothing to the world. I tell Pat I have no chat. He doesn't understand me. All seems lost. One last ditch effort, I tap a girl on the shoulder and ask if she wants a shot.
'Oh my god, you have an accent, where are you from?'
'Ohio'
'No way your not from Ohio!'
'You got me, I'm actually British'
'Oh my god, let's go outside so we can talk more'
Seriously, that's all it took. I didn't even buy her a shot. Head down a back ally to find her car. She claims all her friends have ditched her. She sits on her car. I ask what she does, she works in PR but wants to be a singer.
'Cool, let's hear you sing'
She sings me a song she's written about her dead cousin. It's terrible, she sounds like moose. My drunken state wants to throw things at her to make her stop. My penis tells me that I need to say I like it if I want to fuck her. Always trust your penis. It knows best.
'That was really good'
'Yeah? You want to hear another?'
'Do I ever!'
She sings another. Dead cousin again. I don't listen. She has a passable face and gigantic cans. Literally whoppers. I watch these instead. She doesn't notice as she has shut her eyes as she has got really into her song.
She sings another-this time a bit happier-a failed relationship.
I can't take any more. I go 100% cheesy. 'Your singing makes me want to kiss you' (I know! I nearly threw up when I was writing this, but I had to stop her from singing!) It works, I kiss her. Tell her she should stay at mine as her friends are gone, she's far too drunk to drive, and I can give her a lift to her car the next morning.
Get back to mine. I go get something to eat. Turn around and she's gone. Go look for her. Find her in the bath tub, sitting there naked. Amazing, she has done the hard bit for me. I waste no time in stripping off and jumping in. I wash her hair. She tries to sing again, so I splash water in her face. Take her to my bedroom and growl her out. She's nice and clean which makes a really nice difference. I try all my new moves I learnt from the bird that blogged about me, and they go down a storm. She gets a condom and I fuck her.
Wake up the next morning, get ready for work, drive her to her car, take her number in a customary fashion and head to the office. Get a text off her half way through the day-I don't respond. My boss wants to come round and get her pie smashed Friday night. Why not? I'm not doing anything, I have rugby 7s the next day and then am going to a baseball game the next night. I take a really smelly dump in the office and something doesn't feel right all day- I have an arse hole like the Japanese flag. I need to shower to soothe the pain that evening before my boss comes round. Go back to mine 15 mins before her to take care of business. Shower, then my phone rings. I assume it's my boss, so I don't look at the number. Fuck it's the girl from last night. She's telling me how she has never had sex with anyone who she doesn't know the last name of before. She goes on and on and on. I need to end the call. I see my boss pull up outside my house. I'm panicking. How do I end the call, still get to fuck her again if I need to and not let my boss find out? I don't know why I do this. I start coughing. Really hacking up phlegm and making sure she hears how much pain I'm in. I gasp: I'll have to ring you back, as she walks through my front door. I hang up without waiting for a response. I don't even know if this was successful as I still haven't rung her back. Or reply to her messages. I think she's stalking me.
Wake up Saturday ready for rugby. There is a thunderstorm. Jeff rings me-he's no longer going. Friend from work who I'm going to the baseball with rings me-no longer going! Gash. I do some serious sitting all day watching TV. Read about a guy called Tucker Max, I recommend his website if you haven't heard of him. Basically he is famous for writing a blog about him being a lad.
Friend from work, Claire, her boyfriend, Theo and her room mate Stacey are coming round later to go out. They are all staying at mine, so I naturally plan to hook up with Stacey. Stacey turns out to just be a 1 after 2 beers. Sitting round at mine with the two girls, so we have a glass of wine and start talking about pipes. Tell them about my black friend, Jeff's, pipe. They are intrigued, especially after I tell them he was voted best looking black guy in uni 2 years in a row. Show them a photo, he is holding a baby in his facebook photo, this adds to his swelling reputation (gag). They like what they see, so I send him a message asking for a couple of pipe shots to show the girls. As it's 1 am his time, he doesn't respond, however, I am hoping he will get home, check his facebook hammered and think it a good idea. Alas, it wasn't to be.
Go out, get hammered. Start doing rounds of double gin and tonics. This is essentially 5 shots of gin with tonic in a pint glass. I have 4. 20 shots of gin deep and 5 pints, I am feeling it. Start playing 5s with Pat, Jeff (who have met us) and Theo. I have to pull Stacey and then ask her if she's wet. I go over, force myself on her lips. She says 'that wasn't a proper kiss!' so I pull her again, this time she tongues me back 'Are you wet?' A very resounding no. I then lose again. Ask a woman what size her bra is. Nearly get hit. I feel like my American friends have started to use me as bait. They send me into packs of girls, get me to say something stupid, then come over and apologise for me. Fair enough, I am prone to that kind of behaviour with our really weird friend back home-Tubso. I met tubso when Jack came up for a recruitment evening and we managed to bully him into doing 6 shots of vodka in a row, and laughing at how drunk he got. He is short, fat and sweaty, yet refuses to take off his gillet, ever. He is really socially awkward. Perfect for the situation I now find myself in.
Head to the bar where I met that girl 2 nights before. I am so drunk I need to leave. Walk back down that back ally and spend the next 30 minutes throwing my guts up. Head back to the bar feeling better and hit the dance floor. Dance with a couple 100% 0s. Head to the after hours members club and bump into the girl who works in the cafe at my work. Awesome, wouldn't it be funny if I got with her? This time around, I'm far to drunk to think my head, all I had was my dick. So yeah. I start chatting. Going well. I pull her. Victorious, I walk away to go find my friends. I can't find my friends. Head to the loo, and get an overwhelming urge to take a dump. I really hammer it out in some very grotty toilets. Go back and try to find cafe girl, but can't. Just as well, there is no way I've wiped properly. I've always considered her a 1, and now maybe she will give me free sandwiches. She didn't believe I was from Ohio either. Not surprising, as I've told her I'm English when chatting to her at work.
Head home. Try one more time to get with Stacey, but Jeff and Pat are there. We all have the same idea. I wake up spooning Pat. Shit.
The next day, head over to Theo's house. It's sunny and hot so lay by his pool all day. Plan on getting home for the world cup. But Theo wants to show me his guns. Head out into the forest and I shoot his hand gun and his rifle at a target on a tree. It's such an odd feeling. I've shot guns before, but only at ranges, and under very controlled conditions. This was so surreal.
Head to the bar for the world cup final. Get really jealous as a mate from work flew into Barcelona that morning on business. He was very non responsive to my calls on Monday.
I'm heading up to Boston to see a friend this weekend, which should be good fun. Not sure what kind of lash time I'll get in with her, so next week's blog may be a bit tame. In sadder news, my friend Jaron's dad died 2 nights ago, so he has flown back to England. Wish him and his family all the best. This was another reason why I wanted to share with you the 5 stories from what my dad, who posing for a photo with me and my grandpa, called in his very drunken state, 3 generations of Gin bags.
Happy hunting
Peter.
When thinking about what to call this week's post, I suddenly realised I hit the half way mark on Saturday just gone. Fucking hell. Seems ridiculous. It's just going so fast, I don't want to waste another second.
I know I said I wasn't going to talk to much about my 4th of July with my parents, but my grandpa, and dad are such role models, I need to tell you a few stories.
So I drove to Chicago last Friday with my parents. Left at around 4pm, stopped to eat dinner at an Amish farm (very weird by the way). The worst part is my mum made me stop the car as an amish family went by in their cart so she could lean out the window and take photos. She shouts: 'excuse me, can you just stop so I can get a quick picture' I thought that I had grown out of being embarrassed by my mum, but she just keeps pushing the boat out there. Drive until 3am sleep in a services wake up and still have 6 hours to go! Ridiculously long way. Driving in America is fine if you don't have to be anywhere, otherwise, fly.
Story 1 about my grandpa: Wake up on Sunday morning and he's back from church. I ask him how it was. His response: " great, there was a new Japanese female priest, so I turned my hearing aid off, slept, woke up and ate free doughnuts" LAD!! Why the fuck else would you go to church-you please your wife, get to sleep, and eat for free!
Story 2: I'm heading into town with my grandma and mum. He asks where if I'm off with two women. Then he goes: "Boy, you aren't your grandpa, you couldn't handle two women at once. Boy, I bet you couldn't even handle one!" threesome loving grandpa.
Story 3: The man is on permanent oxygen for a lung condition so has to remained attached to a tank with tubes up his nose. This has meant his Tuesday drinks at the pub have had to stop. Does this stop him? No!! He calls it 'Stupid Tuesdays' Gets 8 of his best mates round to his, forces my grandma to put out snacks, gets her to mix a round of gins, and then tells her to go lie down for 3 hours. The 9 of them (this time including my dad and me) get stupidly drunk and chat about birds!! They are all about 95!
Story 1 about my dad: This really gave me new found respect for the man. At stupid Tuesday, one of my grandpa's friend's turns to me and says: 'boy, you want to hear a story about your dad?' Obviously I do. "Your dad was working for me back in the 70s. His first job out of school as a factory manager. A really shit job comes up in the middle of Oregon. No one wants to fucking do it, so we send your dad. I eventually felt so bad for the guy, I head out and check everything's ok. Get there and ask the client how he was doing. He tells me this: 'That son of a bitch is the best god damn factory manager I've worked with. I just have one issue with him....that cunt turns up to work from a different fucking direction every single day of the week'" LAD!!
Story 2: Same day, before stupid Tuesdays, my dad had been down at the local pub catching up with some school friends. So is fairly deep when he gets back. After stupid Tuesday, he is sloppy. Slurring every word imaginable. Too drunk to even make a dad gag. I've stopped drinking as I am driving home-expecting Robin the next day. Me and my dad go down to the pub for him to have another drink away from mum who has become more and more angry with him. He's steaming when we get back. I'm saying good bye to my family and he has passed out on a stool and proceeds, mid hug with my grandma, to fall off it. He gets up, proclaims he is ok, and tries to kiss my mum. She is having none of it, so decides to go and get my stuff to put in the car. He does it, on the way back into the house, decides he needs to pee, so does what any natural bloke would-go in the flower bed. Although, he picks the flowerbed outside the living room window. Me, my mum, his 2 sisters, his brother, my 2 cousins, their girlfriends, and his parents see him piss into the flower bed with a big grin on his face. Everyone saw his wang.
Reflecting on this story-this is the first time in my life it's clicked. I've always wondered what people talk about when they talk about their 'crazy inappropriate uncle'. I've never had one. I now realise the reason-I don't actually have one, my cousins do.
Role models.
Anyway on with my life.
When I was in Chicago, my two cousins had their birds with them. They are both smoking hot. A lot of my family asked me how it's going with American girls and I always responded with-oh you know, not too badly. My Aunt scoffed and told me that she didn't believe me with my accent. My youngest cousin has just finished 1st year uni. He was running back on his high school football team, and captain of the athletics club, competing in state championships. Prom king, the full works. He joined a frat and picked up the hottest sorority girl there is. Great face, massive cans, flat stomach, tiny waist, cracking rump, sensational pins. His elder brother's bird is not as hot, but a definite 1. I was sitting and chatting to them, ask them a question. They look at each other and giggle. Ask another, they giggle again. What is actually happening? Am I flirting with my cousin's birds at a family dinner? If I am, I'm doing really well! My cousins come and drag them away. One sits between me and them, and tells me to stop being so charming! I think I told her the dip she made is really nice and I asked her how she made it. This is my biggest success, yet greatest fear at the moment. Girls here like my accent-it makes it too easy. How am I going to get on when I get home?
Head into the city with my other cousin and his fiance for the fireworks. Get fairly drunk, best thing to come out of the evening, was a line my cousin told me- which was later put to great use- the next time a girl comments on your accent and asks you where you're from, just say, 'Ohio' and see what they do.
Get back to mine at 1 on Wednesday. My MD is here again. Robin is meant to be coming up for a couple nights. I'm excited. Then disaster! Voice message off Robin saying he has broken down in Virginia and won't be able to make it! Balls! Was looking forward to that. Especially since he had never been out in the US before (although I think he has now. Robin-how was it?) Hit the town with my MD. 4 21 year old girls walk into the bar, just as I am going to the toilet. Walk out, and he's over there giving it a go! Go over and start chatting. Vaguely ok, but then they leave. We get the opportunity to go to amateur night at the strip club with two guys I play rugby with. Would be pretty awkward with him, so I decline. Had we had more than 1 beer we tell ourselves, we would have done it.
Get in around 2. Struggle through work. Robin might be coming up Thursday for the night. But again disappointment, car not yet fixed. So I hit the town with 3 mates from rugby-Jeff, Brendon and Pat. Get pretty drunk, decide I actually am low on chat that night (perhaps because of my hangover, perhaps because Robin never came?) so I decide to get more pissed. Head to a bar with a dance floor. Leaning at the bar, offering nothing to the world. I tell Pat I have no chat. He doesn't understand me. All seems lost. One last ditch effort, I tap a girl on the shoulder and ask if she wants a shot.
'Oh my god, you have an accent, where are you from?'
'Ohio'
'No way your not from Ohio!'
'You got me, I'm actually British'
'Oh my god, let's go outside so we can talk more'
Seriously, that's all it took. I didn't even buy her a shot. Head down a back ally to find her car. She claims all her friends have ditched her. She sits on her car. I ask what she does, she works in PR but wants to be a singer.
'Cool, let's hear you sing'
She sings me a song she's written about her dead cousin. It's terrible, she sounds like moose. My drunken state wants to throw things at her to make her stop. My penis tells me that I need to say I like it if I want to fuck her. Always trust your penis. It knows best.
'That was really good'
'Yeah? You want to hear another?'
'Do I ever!'
She sings another. Dead cousin again. I don't listen. She has a passable face and gigantic cans. Literally whoppers. I watch these instead. She doesn't notice as she has shut her eyes as she has got really into her song.
She sings another-this time a bit happier-a failed relationship.
I can't take any more. I go 100% cheesy. 'Your singing makes me want to kiss you' (I know! I nearly threw up when I was writing this, but I had to stop her from singing!) It works, I kiss her. Tell her she should stay at mine as her friends are gone, she's far too drunk to drive, and I can give her a lift to her car the next morning.
Get back to mine. I go get something to eat. Turn around and she's gone. Go look for her. Find her in the bath tub, sitting there naked. Amazing, she has done the hard bit for me. I waste no time in stripping off and jumping in. I wash her hair. She tries to sing again, so I splash water in her face. Take her to my bedroom and growl her out. She's nice and clean which makes a really nice difference. I try all my new moves I learnt from the bird that blogged about me, and they go down a storm. She gets a condom and I fuck her.
Wake up the next morning, get ready for work, drive her to her car, take her number in a customary fashion and head to the office. Get a text off her half way through the day-I don't respond. My boss wants to come round and get her pie smashed Friday night. Why not? I'm not doing anything, I have rugby 7s the next day and then am going to a baseball game the next night. I take a really smelly dump in the office and something doesn't feel right all day- I have an arse hole like the Japanese flag. I need to shower to soothe the pain that evening before my boss comes round. Go back to mine 15 mins before her to take care of business. Shower, then my phone rings. I assume it's my boss, so I don't look at the number. Fuck it's the girl from last night. She's telling me how she has never had sex with anyone who she doesn't know the last name of before. She goes on and on and on. I need to end the call. I see my boss pull up outside my house. I'm panicking. How do I end the call, still get to fuck her again if I need to and not let my boss find out? I don't know why I do this. I start coughing. Really hacking up phlegm and making sure she hears how much pain I'm in. I gasp: I'll have to ring you back, as she walks through my front door. I hang up without waiting for a response. I don't even know if this was successful as I still haven't rung her back. Or reply to her messages. I think she's stalking me.
Wake up Saturday ready for rugby. There is a thunderstorm. Jeff rings me-he's no longer going. Friend from work who I'm going to the baseball with rings me-no longer going! Gash. I do some serious sitting all day watching TV. Read about a guy called Tucker Max, I recommend his website if you haven't heard of him. Basically he is famous for writing a blog about him being a lad.
Friend from work, Claire, her boyfriend, Theo and her room mate Stacey are coming round later to go out. They are all staying at mine, so I naturally plan to hook up with Stacey. Stacey turns out to just be a 1 after 2 beers. Sitting round at mine with the two girls, so we have a glass of wine and start talking about pipes. Tell them about my black friend, Jeff's, pipe. They are intrigued, especially after I tell them he was voted best looking black guy in uni 2 years in a row. Show them a photo, he is holding a baby in his facebook photo, this adds to his swelling reputation (gag). They like what they see, so I send him a message asking for a couple of pipe shots to show the girls. As it's 1 am his time, he doesn't respond, however, I am hoping he will get home, check his facebook hammered and think it a good idea. Alas, it wasn't to be.
Go out, get hammered. Start doing rounds of double gin and tonics. This is essentially 5 shots of gin with tonic in a pint glass. I have 4. 20 shots of gin deep and 5 pints, I am feeling it. Start playing 5s with Pat, Jeff (who have met us) and Theo. I have to pull Stacey and then ask her if she's wet. I go over, force myself on her lips. She says 'that wasn't a proper kiss!' so I pull her again, this time she tongues me back 'Are you wet?' A very resounding no. I then lose again. Ask a woman what size her bra is. Nearly get hit. I feel like my American friends have started to use me as bait. They send me into packs of girls, get me to say something stupid, then come over and apologise for me. Fair enough, I am prone to that kind of behaviour with our really weird friend back home-Tubso. I met tubso when Jack came up for a recruitment evening and we managed to bully him into doing 6 shots of vodka in a row, and laughing at how drunk he got. He is short, fat and sweaty, yet refuses to take off his gillet, ever. He is really socially awkward. Perfect for the situation I now find myself in.
Head to the bar where I met that girl 2 nights before. I am so drunk I need to leave. Walk back down that back ally and spend the next 30 minutes throwing my guts up. Head back to the bar feeling better and hit the dance floor. Dance with a couple 100% 0s. Head to the after hours members club and bump into the girl who works in the cafe at my work. Awesome, wouldn't it be funny if I got with her? This time around, I'm far to drunk to think my head, all I had was my dick. So yeah. I start chatting. Going well. I pull her. Victorious, I walk away to go find my friends. I can't find my friends. Head to the loo, and get an overwhelming urge to take a dump. I really hammer it out in some very grotty toilets. Go back and try to find cafe girl, but can't. Just as well, there is no way I've wiped properly. I've always considered her a 1, and now maybe she will give me free sandwiches. She didn't believe I was from Ohio either. Not surprising, as I've told her I'm English when chatting to her at work.
Head home. Try one more time to get with Stacey, but Jeff and Pat are there. We all have the same idea. I wake up spooning Pat. Shit.
The next day, head over to Theo's house. It's sunny and hot so lay by his pool all day. Plan on getting home for the world cup. But Theo wants to show me his guns. Head out into the forest and I shoot his hand gun and his rifle at a target on a tree. It's such an odd feeling. I've shot guns before, but only at ranges, and under very controlled conditions. This was so surreal.
Head to the bar for the world cup final. Get really jealous as a mate from work flew into Barcelona that morning on business. He was very non responsive to my calls on Monday.
I'm heading up to Boston to see a friend this weekend, which should be good fun. Not sure what kind of lash time I'll get in with her, so next week's blog may be a bit tame. In sadder news, my friend Jaron's dad died 2 nights ago, so he has flown back to England. Wish him and his family all the best. This was another reason why I wanted to share with you the 5 stories from what my dad, who posing for a photo with me and my grandpa, called in his very drunken state, 3 generations of Gin bags.
Happy hunting
Peter.
Monday 28 June 2010
Triple play
Evening gents,
As this will be my last post for a couple weeks, my goal was to have 3 nights out, all of them blog worthy.
Thursday comes around. I head out with my boss (I'm sorry!) a girl I work with and her boyfriend. I was a bit dubious at first-how would it turn out? I don't even know if I was going to like this guy, money was tight, I was pretty knackered and I didn't fancy getting rimmed. I kind of wanted to sack it off, but ploughed on through. Good job I did. The guy turns up, and he turns out to be a real good bloke. In training to be a cop. We start talking about rugby, as he played at uni, but had to stop as he got concussed trying to hurdle a fence whilst streaking. Me and him ditch the girls and start doing shots of bacardi 151. 70% proof and in double shot glasses. It's like drinking double shots of the woods in lounge. A few more shots and a few beers later, his girlfriend overhears him say:
'you know how it is, you have fillet mingon at home, but some times you just want to go out for a cheesesteak'
What a line for your bird to hear you say. Fortunately, I manage to pull it back by saying he was telling me about all the different verities of steak you can get in this country, and I didn't realise how many ways there were to cut a cow. Somehow this works, he shakes my hand and buys me and himself a shot to celebrate the fact he has just got away with telling his bird he cheats on her with 'bloggers'. We decide to head on to the next bar. These girls are giving out these shots of something called 'zwak'. They are quite fit, and they recognise me from last week. I realise at this point I have said about 5 words to the girl who rimmed me last week. I don't care, I plough on with zwak girl. She's just giving out free shots, and I feel like she is enjoying my chat. Then my boss storms out, saying I don't care about her! What a joke, so I carry on with zwak girl, who I think feels fairly awkward about it so stops talking to me! My boss has yet again ruined it for me.
Anyway, move on to next bar, and meet some of my friends from rugby and a couple of girls I vaguely know around town. Am now spending even less time with my boss, and she blows her lid, again. Really quite viscous about it. Anyway go home with the 2 girls and this guy who has bought beers and claims that as he is training to be a cop, he knows where the cops are and so can get away with drinking in the street. Walk past a bush and push my boss in it, she gets a big thorn in her face. She's still not happy even though me and the guy are laughing our heads off. I have a discussion with him about how we love 'banging broads' and he gives me his number-he is going to take me to a baseball game in Philly, and we are going to go tailgating before hand-I'd imagine this is similar to getting pissed in the carpark at twicks. Him and his girlfriend pop off to my spare room. My boss sits there and says we need to have a discussion. I roll my eyes at her, and growl her out. I'm still baffled about this, I didn't really say much, I just went down on her in my lounge. We go to bed, but don't get rimmed this week, sorry boys.
Struggle through work on Friday, with my boss saying we are not shagging again, and says we should just be friends. I have two issues with this: neither of those things are going to happen. We will shag again, and we will not be friends if we don't..
Get a text off my friend Jeff from rugby. Happy hour from 5-7, and head over around 5:30. We are drinking top shelf Manhattans, made with pure alcohol. Jeff tells me he is going to take me down to Virginia Tech in the summer and we are going to have a massive weekend. Start chatting to this older bloke at the bar. He runs a private members club in town called the Moose. It's an international drinking club which specialise in providing a home away from home and cheap booze-I think it's men only. But this is ok as I love men, and birds are shit to talk to. I tell him my MD is a member, and slip his name into conversation.
'yeah my boss Ben Robins is a member'
'Your boss is Ben Robins?
'Yeah, he comes here sometimes'
'When's he coming next?'
'Two weeks or so, why?'
'That guy's a champion, what's his favourite beer? Anywhere in the world, I'll get it for that guy'
'Sure, I'll send him an email'
'And you, you want to be a member? I'll sponsor you, just bring him along next time he's here. Here's my card, let me know what beer he wants'
How surreal. Ben's influence on this place knows no boundaries. I can not wait until I have the same kind of influence, apparently he walked into this place, said make me a member and paid the several thousand dollar life time fee. Lad.
Head outside as Jeff wants to smoke, where it is waitress service. Our waitress is really fit, called Emily. My friend Brendan knows her-sends me in with the accent. I say sends me in, she comes over, as she is our waitress. Start chatting to her, she tells me about spending news years eve in London. It gets a bit dull listening to American's holiday stories-unless something brutal happens (more on this later). Jeff walks over, and tells me to ask for the Emily special. So I do, and a huge smile erupts across her face. 'who told you about that?' 'No one, I just assumed you'd have a special' 'Meet me in the after hours bar later after work and I'll show you want it is!' Yes!! Could it be? Nosh in the toilets finally?!!! I'm excited.
We move on to the bar which sponsors our rugby team to get beer and food. I go to the toilet, and as I am trying to get out, Jeff puts his hand on the door, shutting me in. I have a great idea-I'm not going to push back, and then will smash it when he's let up a bit. So I do, he's not longer holding it. The door swings open viscously, I topple out and the door smashes a girl we are with in the face. She starts to bleed and her cheek swells up. All the boys find it hilarious, she doesn't and doesn't really talk to me. I half heartedly offer her a drink to make up for it. I have no intention of getting her one, so don't. Sit down at a table, and get a pitcher of beer in. This guy, Tom, joins us. He is a cunt. Really loud and obnoxious. As soon as he opens his mouth I turn to someone and say, this guy's a cunt. He starts talking about nothing in particular. He claims he is the only one with a life around the table-he is the only one who has a proper job.
I must have done something like roll my eyes or something, but he could see from my facial expression that I think he's a cunt-I'm not good at hiding my emotions around people like that. So I call him a cunt. He tries to say something back, but everyone is laughing at him.
I have meanwhile bet Jeff he can not sink a pitcher of beer. 20 dollars riding on it. He fails less than half way down. A girl-the one I fingered is sitting at the end of the table and asks if we'd give her the 20 if she finishes it. It's about 2 pints. Down it goes. Jeff coughs up. It was pretty unbelievable. I fancy her a lot less, and actually having seen her sober, she was only just a 1 on the binary code.
Eat and move on to the next place, a bar I haven't been to before, famous for it's cougars. Brendan and I sit on the side, watching these 40-50 year olds strut their stuff on the dance floor, and I'm impressed.
There is something you need to know about me. There are two sides to me when I drink, and you never know which one is going to come out-the one which loves a good growl, which has made a lot of appearances of late, and the one which likes to pull his trousers down, dance in his party pants and do ridiculous things just for losing 5s. This side normally is about when I'm with Jack and Robin. The two sides don't go to well together. For some reason, the second option came out on this night in question. Girls stopped being of interest. So I head outside where some of my friends are. I teach them 5s...
Within 30 minutes I have got under a girls seat and sniffed her arse, gone over to a married couple sitting on some decking outside and put my arm around her and gone and stood next to a girl, awkwardly close and not said anything for about 4 minutes. Americans aren't very creative at coming up with ideas for consequence 5s, so these were all mine. Theirs were more about: go talk to that girl ect. So my one friend loses. Picture the scene, before you appreciate what happens next.
We are outside, in a fenced off VIP type area. The it's like a decking, and below us, down some steps is a another outdoors section with floor made of concrete. The deck looks out onto the lower section directly below where people are playing an American bar game called shuffleboard. There is a metal fence on top of the upper deck, perhaps stopping people from falling off, but it's about waist height.
My friend has to go up to a girl. She's on the upper deck standing next to the fence. Starts chatting, not much in it. A guy walks out from inside, and says 'hey man, stop talking to my girl, I gotta get my drink from in there, I want you gone by when I get back' He starts walking back inside. At this point, I probably would of walked away, he wasn't small. My friend goes 'or what' The guy stops. Turns around, rage has turned his hand into a fist. He runs at my friend. Tries to do a running punch. Obviously as a big guy, he's not that dynamic, so my friend ducks out the way. The guy swings, misses and topples over the fence and smashes his face on the concrete floor 3 metres below. I run over laughing, start pointing and laughing, get most of the people on the upper deck to do the same and call him a dick head. Blood is everywhere, he has landed on a beer bottle, his yellow t-shirt is now severely blood stained. The bouncer comes over, kicks him out. We start waving good bye. To really rub salt into the wound, his bird doesn't care, and my mate is still hitting on her.
Jeff is pulling the bird who necked the beer, I decide I want a piece of the action and head over, push him out the way, put my tongue down her throat and then start celebrating like I won the lottery. It's now 3, so head over to the after hours bar, hoping to see Emily, and find out more about an Emily special. I don't find her, but am at the bar, and look over. There is a stunning girl sitting 2 seats away. She looks like Joanne (I'll tell you who 'Joanne' is by some other means), a girl we went to uni with. Start talking to her mate, she says she has a boyfriend, who walks over. He's really fat and drunk. He starts saying 'vintage' over and over again as it's written on my top. I say loudly, so the really fit girl, Jess, can hear: 'Oh, I'm so glad you are educated enough to read' He stops talking, and I see a smile come over Jess' face. Jackpot. I start chatting to her-the standard stuff-oh my god, your accent's amazing ect. Convince her that she should show me around Philly at some point whilst I'm here. I was drunk so don't remember half the conversation, but it must have gone well, as as she go beckoned away to leave, she gave me her number. I'm angry she left.
Find a really rank, skinny ginger bird, who turns out to be a lesbian. She says she's straight 15% of the time. I make a joke that this is more of a chance than I normally get with a girl. The ex-heroin addict, turned alcoholic isn't a fan, and goes home. I am left to trudge home on my own, without getting nosh (properly).
I wake up on Saturday, watch the US game and make my way to NYC for a night out with Jaron. Am fairly hungover, but want to get nosh, no matter what. We get Mexican food, then head out to some local bars. We had a conversation about how I need to change my approach from one of a shotgun, spraying pellets everywhere, to a more sniper rifle type approach where I set a target. I plan to try it. First bar, spot an average looking girl at the bar, she's come on her own, name's claire. Why the fuck not? Time to start snipering. Turns out I have good aim (LOL). Give her my number, tell her to text me later-she is officially my back up option. We go somewhere else to meet up with some friends from work. Jaron doesn't get in as he tried to sneak in without paying. I leave him outside like a good mate, whilst I spend 2 hours in there. He goes back and finds claire. 2 hours later, I return and they are hammered. It's about 1 in the morning, I'm pretty tired from 3 nights of boozing. But I am determined to do better than Claire.
Good looking blonde girl was sitting next to me. I start talking to her:
'I'm sorry, but your accent really creeps me out'
'Why?'
'I went to London for the summer when I was 18, and the dad of the family I was saying with who were close family friends, molested me'
'Oh'
'Yeah'
'I'm sorry'
How do you recover from this? You don't. You settle for Claire. Get with Claire, and convince her to come back to Jaron's flat. She comes back, Jaron tries for a 3some and fails. He goes to bed, I pull down my jeans. I am wearing my party pants, and she freaks out and the pink and yellow striped monstrosity. I laugh, and change into my rugby shorts. Going ok, she is in her pants and has a cracking body. I try to take them off, but she has weird rules-pants don't come off on one night stands. What? How am I going to growl her out? I pull them to one side. She tosses me off, I get on top and put it in her, but she moves away and says no. Not a lot I can do. She's obviously not drunk enough. And I have the England game to wake up for. Pass out. She leaves Jaron's flat the next morning very early. She had told me she was writing a blog, so here is the link to her post about me: http://commitmentissuesandsex.wordpress.com/2010/06/29/almost-boffing-the-brit/ (I have just text her to get the name of this, for the blog-she was literally a blogger, in more ways than one!LOLOLOLOL)
I don't think it puts me in the most complementary light, I am seriously good at growling, she just is picky...
We are watching the football at Jaron's mate's flat. He works for a big investment bank, and has a flat in Union Square. He pays $2700 a month. It's huge. I'm so angry I don't work for a bank, he went to the same Uni as me and is only 4 years older.
Get back to mine, and decide that being away like this is a great time to experiment with new ways to do things. I decide to call Jess, and not text her as I would probably do in England. I don't really think anything of this at first, so pick up the phone. Straight to voice mail, I panic. I have not prepared for this scenario. What do I say on a voice message? I don't even know my own number in the US. I leave this message: "hi Jess, it's Peter, I met you pretty late on Friday night..... Err.... Anyway, just ringing to err... remind you that you promised to show me around Philly, so call me, this is my number, give me a call this week." Not the best attempt, and the way I had to remind her she promised to show me around was not witty as I intended, but came out creepy and desperate. So yeah. I fucked it up. I was about to pick up the phone and leave another. Then my rational mind took over as I remembered a certain scene from 'Swingers' with Vince Vaughan. Needless to say I will have to try ringing again. A bad one to start off on as she was so fit. I'll try an uglier girl, to boost my confidence. Nothing back yet, here's hoping she'll call tomorrow or later in the week.
Parents arrive tomorrow and away this weekend, but Robin will be here in a week and 2 days which means this blog will have 2 of us causing trouble.
Happy hunting
Peter
As this will be my last post for a couple weeks, my goal was to have 3 nights out, all of them blog worthy.
Thursday comes around. I head out with my boss (I'm sorry!) a girl I work with and her boyfriend. I was a bit dubious at first-how would it turn out? I don't even know if I was going to like this guy, money was tight, I was pretty knackered and I didn't fancy getting rimmed. I kind of wanted to sack it off, but ploughed on through. Good job I did. The guy turns up, and he turns out to be a real good bloke. In training to be a cop. We start talking about rugby, as he played at uni, but had to stop as he got concussed trying to hurdle a fence whilst streaking. Me and him ditch the girls and start doing shots of bacardi 151. 70% proof and in double shot glasses. It's like drinking double shots of the woods in lounge. A few more shots and a few beers later, his girlfriend overhears him say:
'you know how it is, you have fillet mingon at home, but some times you just want to go out for a cheesesteak'
What a line for your bird to hear you say. Fortunately, I manage to pull it back by saying he was telling me about all the different verities of steak you can get in this country, and I didn't realise how many ways there were to cut a cow. Somehow this works, he shakes my hand and buys me and himself a shot to celebrate the fact he has just got away with telling his bird he cheats on her with 'bloggers'. We decide to head on to the next bar. These girls are giving out these shots of something called 'zwak'. They are quite fit, and they recognise me from last week. I realise at this point I have said about 5 words to the girl who rimmed me last week. I don't care, I plough on with zwak girl. She's just giving out free shots, and I feel like she is enjoying my chat. Then my boss storms out, saying I don't care about her! What a joke, so I carry on with zwak girl, who I think feels fairly awkward about it so stops talking to me! My boss has yet again ruined it for me.
Anyway, move on to next bar, and meet some of my friends from rugby and a couple of girls I vaguely know around town. Am now spending even less time with my boss, and she blows her lid, again. Really quite viscous about it. Anyway go home with the 2 girls and this guy who has bought beers and claims that as he is training to be a cop, he knows where the cops are and so can get away with drinking in the street. Walk past a bush and push my boss in it, she gets a big thorn in her face. She's still not happy even though me and the guy are laughing our heads off. I have a discussion with him about how we love 'banging broads' and he gives me his number-he is going to take me to a baseball game in Philly, and we are going to go tailgating before hand-I'd imagine this is similar to getting pissed in the carpark at twicks. Him and his girlfriend pop off to my spare room. My boss sits there and says we need to have a discussion. I roll my eyes at her, and growl her out. I'm still baffled about this, I didn't really say much, I just went down on her in my lounge. We go to bed, but don't get rimmed this week, sorry boys.
Struggle through work on Friday, with my boss saying we are not shagging again, and says we should just be friends. I have two issues with this: neither of those things are going to happen. We will shag again, and we will not be friends if we don't..
Get a text off my friend Jeff from rugby. Happy hour from 5-7, and head over around 5:30. We are drinking top shelf Manhattans, made with pure alcohol. Jeff tells me he is going to take me down to Virginia Tech in the summer and we are going to have a massive weekend. Start chatting to this older bloke at the bar. He runs a private members club in town called the Moose. It's an international drinking club which specialise in providing a home away from home and cheap booze-I think it's men only. But this is ok as I love men, and birds are shit to talk to. I tell him my MD is a member, and slip his name into conversation.
'yeah my boss Ben Robins is a member'
'Your boss is Ben Robins?
'Yeah, he comes here sometimes'
'When's he coming next?'
'Two weeks or so, why?'
'That guy's a champion, what's his favourite beer? Anywhere in the world, I'll get it for that guy'
'Sure, I'll send him an email'
'And you, you want to be a member? I'll sponsor you, just bring him along next time he's here. Here's my card, let me know what beer he wants'
How surreal. Ben's influence on this place knows no boundaries. I can not wait until I have the same kind of influence, apparently he walked into this place, said make me a member and paid the several thousand dollar life time fee. Lad.
Head outside as Jeff wants to smoke, where it is waitress service. Our waitress is really fit, called Emily. My friend Brendan knows her-sends me in with the accent. I say sends me in, she comes over, as she is our waitress. Start chatting to her, she tells me about spending news years eve in London. It gets a bit dull listening to American's holiday stories-unless something brutal happens (more on this later). Jeff walks over, and tells me to ask for the Emily special. So I do, and a huge smile erupts across her face. 'who told you about that?' 'No one, I just assumed you'd have a special' 'Meet me in the after hours bar later after work and I'll show you want it is!' Yes!! Could it be? Nosh in the toilets finally?!!! I'm excited.
We move on to the bar which sponsors our rugby team to get beer and food. I go to the toilet, and as I am trying to get out, Jeff puts his hand on the door, shutting me in. I have a great idea-I'm not going to push back, and then will smash it when he's let up a bit. So I do, he's not longer holding it. The door swings open viscously, I topple out and the door smashes a girl we are with in the face. She starts to bleed and her cheek swells up. All the boys find it hilarious, she doesn't and doesn't really talk to me. I half heartedly offer her a drink to make up for it. I have no intention of getting her one, so don't. Sit down at a table, and get a pitcher of beer in. This guy, Tom, joins us. He is a cunt. Really loud and obnoxious. As soon as he opens his mouth I turn to someone and say, this guy's a cunt. He starts talking about nothing in particular. He claims he is the only one with a life around the table-he is the only one who has a proper job.
I must have done something like roll my eyes or something, but he could see from my facial expression that I think he's a cunt-I'm not good at hiding my emotions around people like that. So I call him a cunt. He tries to say something back, but everyone is laughing at him.
I have meanwhile bet Jeff he can not sink a pitcher of beer. 20 dollars riding on it. He fails less than half way down. A girl-the one I fingered is sitting at the end of the table and asks if we'd give her the 20 if she finishes it. It's about 2 pints. Down it goes. Jeff coughs up. It was pretty unbelievable. I fancy her a lot less, and actually having seen her sober, she was only just a 1 on the binary code.
Eat and move on to the next place, a bar I haven't been to before, famous for it's cougars. Brendan and I sit on the side, watching these 40-50 year olds strut their stuff on the dance floor, and I'm impressed.
There is something you need to know about me. There are two sides to me when I drink, and you never know which one is going to come out-the one which loves a good growl, which has made a lot of appearances of late, and the one which likes to pull his trousers down, dance in his party pants and do ridiculous things just for losing 5s. This side normally is about when I'm with Jack and Robin. The two sides don't go to well together. For some reason, the second option came out on this night in question. Girls stopped being of interest. So I head outside where some of my friends are. I teach them 5s...
Within 30 minutes I have got under a girls seat and sniffed her arse, gone over to a married couple sitting on some decking outside and put my arm around her and gone and stood next to a girl, awkwardly close and not said anything for about 4 minutes. Americans aren't very creative at coming up with ideas for consequence 5s, so these were all mine. Theirs were more about: go talk to that girl ect. So my one friend loses. Picture the scene, before you appreciate what happens next.
We are outside, in a fenced off VIP type area. The it's like a decking, and below us, down some steps is a another outdoors section with floor made of concrete. The deck looks out onto the lower section directly below where people are playing an American bar game called shuffleboard. There is a metal fence on top of the upper deck, perhaps stopping people from falling off, but it's about waist height.
My friend has to go up to a girl. She's on the upper deck standing next to the fence. Starts chatting, not much in it. A guy walks out from inside, and says 'hey man, stop talking to my girl, I gotta get my drink from in there, I want you gone by when I get back' He starts walking back inside. At this point, I probably would of walked away, he wasn't small. My friend goes 'or what' The guy stops. Turns around, rage has turned his hand into a fist. He runs at my friend. Tries to do a running punch. Obviously as a big guy, he's not that dynamic, so my friend ducks out the way. The guy swings, misses and topples over the fence and smashes his face on the concrete floor 3 metres below. I run over laughing, start pointing and laughing, get most of the people on the upper deck to do the same and call him a dick head. Blood is everywhere, he has landed on a beer bottle, his yellow t-shirt is now severely blood stained. The bouncer comes over, kicks him out. We start waving good bye. To really rub salt into the wound, his bird doesn't care, and my mate is still hitting on her.
Jeff is pulling the bird who necked the beer, I decide I want a piece of the action and head over, push him out the way, put my tongue down her throat and then start celebrating like I won the lottery. It's now 3, so head over to the after hours bar, hoping to see Emily, and find out more about an Emily special. I don't find her, but am at the bar, and look over. There is a stunning girl sitting 2 seats away. She looks like Joanne (I'll tell you who 'Joanne' is by some other means), a girl we went to uni with. Start talking to her mate, she says she has a boyfriend, who walks over. He's really fat and drunk. He starts saying 'vintage' over and over again as it's written on my top. I say loudly, so the really fit girl, Jess, can hear: 'Oh, I'm so glad you are educated enough to read' He stops talking, and I see a smile come over Jess' face. Jackpot. I start chatting to her-the standard stuff-oh my god, your accent's amazing ect. Convince her that she should show me around Philly at some point whilst I'm here. I was drunk so don't remember half the conversation, but it must have gone well, as as she go beckoned away to leave, she gave me her number. I'm angry she left.
Find a really rank, skinny ginger bird, who turns out to be a lesbian. She says she's straight 15% of the time. I make a joke that this is more of a chance than I normally get with a girl. The ex-heroin addict, turned alcoholic isn't a fan, and goes home. I am left to trudge home on my own, without getting nosh (properly).
I wake up on Saturday, watch the US game and make my way to NYC for a night out with Jaron. Am fairly hungover, but want to get nosh, no matter what. We get Mexican food, then head out to some local bars. We had a conversation about how I need to change my approach from one of a shotgun, spraying pellets everywhere, to a more sniper rifle type approach where I set a target. I plan to try it. First bar, spot an average looking girl at the bar, she's come on her own, name's claire. Why the fuck not? Time to start snipering. Turns out I have good aim (LOL). Give her my number, tell her to text me later-she is officially my back up option. We go somewhere else to meet up with some friends from work. Jaron doesn't get in as he tried to sneak in without paying. I leave him outside like a good mate, whilst I spend 2 hours in there. He goes back and finds claire. 2 hours later, I return and they are hammered. It's about 1 in the morning, I'm pretty tired from 3 nights of boozing. But I am determined to do better than Claire.
Good looking blonde girl was sitting next to me. I start talking to her:
'I'm sorry, but your accent really creeps me out'
'Why?'
'I went to London for the summer when I was 18, and the dad of the family I was saying with who were close family friends, molested me'
'Oh'
'Yeah'
'I'm sorry'
How do you recover from this? You don't. You settle for Claire. Get with Claire, and convince her to come back to Jaron's flat. She comes back, Jaron tries for a 3some and fails. He goes to bed, I pull down my jeans. I am wearing my party pants, and she freaks out and the pink and yellow striped monstrosity. I laugh, and change into my rugby shorts. Going ok, she is in her pants and has a cracking body. I try to take them off, but she has weird rules-pants don't come off on one night stands. What? How am I going to growl her out? I pull them to one side. She tosses me off, I get on top and put it in her, but she moves away and says no. Not a lot I can do. She's obviously not drunk enough. And I have the England game to wake up for. Pass out. She leaves Jaron's flat the next morning very early. She had told me she was writing a blog, so here is the link to her post about me: http://commitmentissuesandsex.wordpress.com/2010/06/29/almost-boffing-the-brit/ (I have just text her to get the name of this, for the blog-she was literally a blogger, in more ways than one!LOLOLOLOL)
I don't think it puts me in the most complementary light, I am seriously good at growling, she just is picky...
We are watching the football at Jaron's mate's flat. He works for a big investment bank, and has a flat in Union Square. He pays $2700 a month. It's huge. I'm so angry I don't work for a bank, he went to the same Uni as me and is only 4 years older.
Get back to mine, and decide that being away like this is a great time to experiment with new ways to do things. I decide to call Jess, and not text her as I would probably do in England. I don't really think anything of this at first, so pick up the phone. Straight to voice mail, I panic. I have not prepared for this scenario. What do I say on a voice message? I don't even know my own number in the US. I leave this message: "hi Jess, it's Peter, I met you pretty late on Friday night..... Err.... Anyway, just ringing to err... remind you that you promised to show me around Philly, so call me, this is my number, give me a call this week." Not the best attempt, and the way I had to remind her she promised to show me around was not witty as I intended, but came out creepy and desperate. So yeah. I fucked it up. I was about to pick up the phone and leave another. Then my rational mind took over as I remembered a certain scene from 'Swingers' with Vince Vaughan. Needless to say I will have to try ringing again. A bad one to start off on as she was so fit. I'll try an uglier girl, to boost my confidence. Nothing back yet, here's hoping she'll call tomorrow or later in the week.
Parents arrive tomorrow and away this weekend, but Robin will be here in a week and 2 days which means this blog will have 2 of us causing trouble.
Happy hunting
Peter
Tuesday 22 June 2010
A good job?
Evening gents
This weeks blog starts last Thursday night. My boss and I go out for dinner with 2 of her friends, a boy and a girl. I am miserable as it feels an awful lot like a double date. a) the other bloke is wet and has become 'best mates' with the other girl b) my boss looks at me and smiles like she likes me far too often. One good thing that has come of this is that I am playing the 'you make far more money than I do so you pay for everything because they are your friends' card. Free sushi and what turns out to be some proper weird, but good (you be the judge), nosh. The other guy buuggers off after dinner around 9, leaving me with the two girls. Head to a bar and nail some gin. I feel trapped and the only way to make it better is by drinking. Start chatting to a really ugly girl at the bar. I don't care. I am trying to prove a point to my boss that I am single. She doesn't really get the hint and laughs at me for hitting on this fat black girl. This makes me drink more (on her credit card). Next bar. More drinks, get stuck into a good looking middle aged woman in front of my boss. She's loving it, and is touching my chest whilst giggling. My boss sees and pretends to ignore it. So I carry on. The woman goes to the toilet, but the other two want to go. Move on to a bar with a dance floor. Decent. See the bird I fingered three weeks before in there. Start chatting, going well. She claims she never saved my number and so I give it to her again. Tell her to text me, knowing full well she won't, and I won't text her, and the next time I see her I will be hammered and will hit on her again. Try to take her round back for a cheeky kiss (and maybe a digit?) but she's off with her mate.
This night is a bit hazy to me, as it's now 3am. Boss' mate is meant to be staying too, but ends up getting her little sister (a year older than me) to come pick us up. Obviously plough out some shit chat on her from the back seat with my boss next to me and her mate in the front.
Along the lines of: 'so Alex, you around all summer?'
'yeah I am'
'which bars do you tend to go to?'
she giggles 'I tend to hang out in bar 86'
'That place is cool, but the girls aren't anything special...'
My boss gives me a really shocked look and turns and punches me on the arm. I go quiet. But I will be seeing the sister again in bar 86. Get to mine a few minutes later and get in. Go to the toilet and get back and my boss is naked on my bed.
Now boys, I know what you're thinking. And after a chat with Bruce on Saturday, I'm thinking the same. She features far too much in this blog. She does. But what happens next is pretty funny:
'Eat my pussy'
I do.
'Put a finger in my ass hole'
I do.
'Suck your finger'
Wow. Ok. Err, I suck the other finger and not the one that's been in her pooper.
'Put your cock in my mouth'
I do. She reaches round and puts a finger up my arse. I've had this before, so not the weirdest experience of my life. (made all the more amusing as I had a massive dump earlier and doubt I wiped properly) She takes her finger out and stops sucking me off. She heads even further round. My boss starts licking my arse hole. Yep. She is giving me a rim job. And she doesn't stop for a good 15 minutes. How I will be able to take her seriously in the work place the next day I don't know.
I don't know how many of you have had a rim job before, but it feels a little like constantly dabbing your bum with toilet tissue which you've wetted with warm water, try it, see if you like it. I am going to admit this: I kind of did.
In my drunk state I decide to return the favour, and spend the next 30 seconds doing so before I spend 10 minutes stabbing wildly at her arse hole with my penis. I pass out.
Wake up the next morning and my mouth literally tastes like bum. Work goes badly on my hangover, and even worse when I get caught watching the England game at my desk. "I wouldn't mind if England were actually a good team, but they aren't so get back to work" A double blow from the head of department.
Due to a severe lack of funding and sever hangover, Friday night is shit and I can't be arsed. Go to bed. Wake up the next day and go on a run and head over to the lake to sunbathe in the afternoon. It's about 36 degrees so I really get my burn on. I actually have work to do as I completely failed to do it the day before and the deadline is Monday morning so spend early evening doing it. After a facebook message from Bruce telling me to skype him, I decide to give him a call on my company phone. No bills, no worries! We discuss my options for the evenings entertainment: a) I could go to a pool party with my boss or b) I could chance it and go into town on my own and hope the rugby guys are out.
Bruce gives me some top rate advice: I'm bored of reading about your boss; go into town. (If you haven't read Bruce's blog from this week (http://inappropriate-lessons.blogspot.com/) I suggest you do, it sums him up nicely). If it's better for the blog, it's better for you, it's better for me, no one loses out on this option. I head out around 8 determined to get a story or two from the evening. Get to the bar where all the rugby guys drink-there are two in there, who have been in there since 2 in the afternoon. Turns out they are mates with some quite fit birds. I get myself introduced, this is the best possible scenario: they have just got there, and are sober, I have had 2 pints, so am finding some form, all their mates are hammered and so they don't want to know. I'm interesting to them, so like a pack of hyenas stalking an injured baby zebra, they gather round me. 3 quite fit girls, gathered round me, hanging on my every word giggling at all the right moments. When does this ever happen to me? Suddenly, disaster. In walks the 30 year old I growled out and went for a ridiculously awkward drink with the week before.
My friends from rugby don't know I know her, so they introduce me. If looks could kill. She has decided she isn't happy with me for not texting her. She is also hammered, so gets rid of my hyenas like a lioness claiming the prize by saying to the girls (who turn out to be her friends): "this guy's an ass hole". What a twat. Anyway, I waste no time and start hitting on her. If she's going to ruin me, I am at least getting something out of it. Give her some chat, she goes to the toilet. Tell my mate that I took her home 2 weeks ago and growled her out. He laughs and counts the guys who've taken her home: 4/9 in the room. Easy pickings. Give her more chat. Suddenly she gets really upset and claims she has lost her really valuable necklace. I don't bother helping her look for it, and instead take the opportunity to laugh at her with her mate Julie, one of the hyenas. Julie has massive cans, a decent enough face and seems like she knows what to do with a penis. The 30 year old finds her necklace, and I celebrate with her by doing shots. The following 5 minutes are fairly funny:
"I'm so happy you found your necklace"
Thanks...I'm really attracted to you, and it's not just because of your accent
Why else is it?
I dunno, I just really enjoyed making out with you last time
You know I don't do kissing in public
Meet me in the bathroom in two minutes.
YES!! Last week Lauren in NY said no, this week, I'm being offered it on a plate! I head upstairs, see her disappear into the toilet. Start to casually move in. Get a tap on the shoulder. Bouncer's seen me, shit. Tell him she was just showing me around the upstairs part of the bar, and run away. She comes down 2 minutes later:
"where were you?"
"Got caught by the bouncer"
he's downstairs now, let's try again.
Start wondering up the stairs with her. Finally my moment has arrived. Hear a shout from the bottom of the stairs, it's my barman friend, Dan.
"But Dan, come on!"
"no way, I know exactly what you were going to do!"
What? go to the toilet?
No. Come down here and I'll give you free shots if you don't fuck her in the bathroom
A fair trade? I take him up on the deal. This really annoys the girl and she hits me and storms out, again calling me an arse hole. I don't follow her as now I see Julie from the other side the bar, and she's drunk. I head over.
"Hey Peter, can you dance?"
"I have been known to partake in a Tango"
We don't Tango in America. We grind.
Sold. I head off with her to the next bar. Nail some shots and she grinds the fuck out of me on the dance floor.
We walk in and they are playing an up tempo dance song. It turns out I am terrible at grinding. I can't seem to get the rhythm right. Her hips are moving too fast! Nightmare! I've never felt so white! Ahh a slower song. She goes for the long, hard, deep grind. This is more my scene. I grind her like there's no tomorrow. Literally as if I was in the final of the world grinding championships, up against Jeff (a natural grinder) and needed to bring my A game. Grinding is awesome as a) it is dirty b) as their back is to you, you don't need to talk to them c) you can't see their face and d) it doesn't matter if you break sweat as it is considered 'sexy'.
I give her my usual chat of 'I don't do kissing in public' But go back on my word 20 seconds later and find myself pulling her.
The bar closes and I'm all over the place. Ask her if she wants to come back to mine. She says she wants to drink more (insult?) so we move on. I'm literally so drunk I can barely stand, I must be tired from the grinding. She tries to kiss me in the next bar, but I barely recognise her. Her lift shows up, and she leaves. I completely didn't get her number. Terrible. I text the 30 year old: I can't believe you went home without me. No reply. I ring her. No answer. I ring her again. Answer! Bingo.
"What do you mean you don't want me to come over?"
"I'm too tired, come over next week"
"But I still have your bracelet and want to return it"
"bring it next week"
I trudge home.
Meant to be coaching 8 year olds how to play rugby the next day at 11. I wake up at 12:30 and miss it. Their coach, mentor and hero lets them down. I don't really feel that guilty as I'm in serious pain. It's 38 degrees so I give in to my boss and go lay by her pool and burn myself to shit.
I have no real plans for this week, apart from I know I'm going out Thursday with some people from work (not my boss).
Friday is pay day. What shall I do? What would be best for the blog? (Next week's blog may be the last for 2 weeks, as my parents are coming and I am going to see my grandparents for the 4th of July weekend, and you probably won't want to hear about that)
Options:
Friday: Drinks around here with some of the rugby boys? Head into Philly on my own to see what mischief I can cause (if I am doing it for the blog, I might man up and actually cause some, but this is a risky option) Head up to NY and go out with Jaron?
Saturday: Pretty much the same, but NY does sound appealing.
I want to put the final blog for 2 weeks in your hands. Answers in a facebook message or an email please.
My lesson from this week: try things you don't think you'll ever like, as you never know. Even if you don't, you can say you have. Alas now, all of you will be able to get me at I have never with: I have never had a rim job off my boss.
Happy Hunting
Peter.
This weeks blog starts last Thursday night. My boss and I go out for dinner with 2 of her friends, a boy and a girl. I am miserable as it feels an awful lot like a double date. a) the other bloke is wet and has become 'best mates' with the other girl b) my boss looks at me and smiles like she likes me far too often. One good thing that has come of this is that I am playing the 'you make far more money than I do so you pay for everything because they are your friends' card. Free sushi and what turns out to be some proper weird, but good (you be the judge), nosh. The other guy buuggers off after dinner around 9, leaving me with the two girls. Head to a bar and nail some gin. I feel trapped and the only way to make it better is by drinking. Start chatting to a really ugly girl at the bar. I don't care. I am trying to prove a point to my boss that I am single. She doesn't really get the hint and laughs at me for hitting on this fat black girl. This makes me drink more (on her credit card). Next bar. More drinks, get stuck into a good looking middle aged woman in front of my boss. She's loving it, and is touching my chest whilst giggling. My boss sees and pretends to ignore it. So I carry on. The woman goes to the toilet, but the other two want to go. Move on to a bar with a dance floor. Decent. See the bird I fingered three weeks before in there. Start chatting, going well. She claims she never saved my number and so I give it to her again. Tell her to text me, knowing full well she won't, and I won't text her, and the next time I see her I will be hammered and will hit on her again. Try to take her round back for a cheeky kiss (and maybe a digit?) but she's off with her mate.
This night is a bit hazy to me, as it's now 3am. Boss' mate is meant to be staying too, but ends up getting her little sister (a year older than me) to come pick us up. Obviously plough out some shit chat on her from the back seat with my boss next to me and her mate in the front.
Along the lines of: 'so Alex, you around all summer?'
'yeah I am'
'which bars do you tend to go to?'
she giggles 'I tend to hang out in bar 86'
'That place is cool, but the girls aren't anything special...'
My boss gives me a really shocked look and turns and punches me on the arm. I go quiet. But I will be seeing the sister again in bar 86. Get to mine a few minutes later and get in. Go to the toilet and get back and my boss is naked on my bed.
Now boys, I know what you're thinking. And after a chat with Bruce on Saturday, I'm thinking the same. She features far too much in this blog. She does. But what happens next is pretty funny:
'Eat my pussy'
I do.
'Put a finger in my ass hole'
I do.
'Suck your finger'
Wow. Ok. Err, I suck the other finger and not the one that's been in her pooper.
'Put your cock in my mouth'
I do. She reaches round and puts a finger up my arse. I've had this before, so not the weirdest experience of my life. (made all the more amusing as I had a massive dump earlier and doubt I wiped properly) She takes her finger out and stops sucking me off. She heads even further round. My boss starts licking my arse hole. Yep. She is giving me a rim job. And she doesn't stop for a good 15 minutes. How I will be able to take her seriously in the work place the next day I don't know.
I don't know how many of you have had a rim job before, but it feels a little like constantly dabbing your bum with toilet tissue which you've wetted with warm water, try it, see if you like it. I am going to admit this: I kind of did.
In my drunk state I decide to return the favour, and spend the next 30 seconds doing so before I spend 10 minutes stabbing wildly at her arse hole with my penis. I pass out.
Wake up the next morning and my mouth literally tastes like bum. Work goes badly on my hangover, and even worse when I get caught watching the England game at my desk. "I wouldn't mind if England were actually a good team, but they aren't so get back to work" A double blow from the head of department.
Due to a severe lack of funding and sever hangover, Friday night is shit and I can't be arsed. Go to bed. Wake up the next day and go on a run and head over to the lake to sunbathe in the afternoon. It's about 36 degrees so I really get my burn on. I actually have work to do as I completely failed to do it the day before and the deadline is Monday morning so spend early evening doing it. After a facebook message from Bruce telling me to skype him, I decide to give him a call on my company phone. No bills, no worries! We discuss my options for the evenings entertainment: a) I could go to a pool party with my boss or b) I could chance it and go into town on my own and hope the rugby guys are out.
Bruce gives me some top rate advice: I'm bored of reading about your boss; go into town. (If you haven't read Bruce's blog from this week (http://inappropriate-lessons.blogspot.com/) I suggest you do, it sums him up nicely). If it's better for the blog, it's better for you, it's better for me, no one loses out on this option. I head out around 8 determined to get a story or two from the evening. Get to the bar where all the rugby guys drink-there are two in there, who have been in there since 2 in the afternoon. Turns out they are mates with some quite fit birds. I get myself introduced, this is the best possible scenario: they have just got there, and are sober, I have had 2 pints, so am finding some form, all their mates are hammered and so they don't want to know. I'm interesting to them, so like a pack of hyenas stalking an injured baby zebra, they gather round me. 3 quite fit girls, gathered round me, hanging on my every word giggling at all the right moments. When does this ever happen to me? Suddenly, disaster. In walks the 30 year old I growled out and went for a ridiculously awkward drink with the week before.
My friends from rugby don't know I know her, so they introduce me. If looks could kill. She has decided she isn't happy with me for not texting her. She is also hammered, so gets rid of my hyenas like a lioness claiming the prize by saying to the girls (who turn out to be her friends): "this guy's an ass hole". What a twat. Anyway, I waste no time and start hitting on her. If she's going to ruin me, I am at least getting something out of it. Give her some chat, she goes to the toilet. Tell my mate that I took her home 2 weeks ago and growled her out. He laughs and counts the guys who've taken her home: 4/9 in the room. Easy pickings. Give her more chat. Suddenly she gets really upset and claims she has lost her really valuable necklace. I don't bother helping her look for it, and instead take the opportunity to laugh at her with her mate Julie, one of the hyenas. Julie has massive cans, a decent enough face and seems like she knows what to do with a penis. The 30 year old finds her necklace, and I celebrate with her by doing shots. The following 5 minutes are fairly funny:
"I'm so happy you found your necklace"
Thanks...I'm really attracted to you, and it's not just because of your accent
Why else is it?
I dunno, I just really enjoyed making out with you last time
You know I don't do kissing in public
Meet me in the bathroom in two minutes.
YES!! Last week Lauren in NY said no, this week, I'm being offered it on a plate! I head upstairs, see her disappear into the toilet. Start to casually move in. Get a tap on the shoulder. Bouncer's seen me, shit. Tell him she was just showing me around the upstairs part of the bar, and run away. She comes down 2 minutes later:
"where were you?"
"Got caught by the bouncer"
he's downstairs now, let's try again.
Start wondering up the stairs with her. Finally my moment has arrived. Hear a shout from the bottom of the stairs, it's my barman friend, Dan.
"But Dan, come on!"
"no way, I know exactly what you were going to do!"
What? go to the toilet?
No. Come down here and I'll give you free shots if you don't fuck her in the bathroom
A fair trade? I take him up on the deal. This really annoys the girl and she hits me and storms out, again calling me an arse hole. I don't follow her as now I see Julie from the other side the bar, and she's drunk. I head over.
"Hey Peter, can you dance?"
"I have been known to partake in a Tango"
We don't Tango in America. We grind.
Sold. I head off with her to the next bar. Nail some shots and she grinds the fuck out of me on the dance floor.
We walk in and they are playing an up tempo dance song. It turns out I am terrible at grinding. I can't seem to get the rhythm right. Her hips are moving too fast! Nightmare! I've never felt so white! Ahh a slower song. She goes for the long, hard, deep grind. This is more my scene. I grind her like there's no tomorrow. Literally as if I was in the final of the world grinding championships, up against Jeff (a natural grinder) and needed to bring my A game. Grinding is awesome as a) it is dirty b) as their back is to you, you don't need to talk to them c) you can't see their face and d) it doesn't matter if you break sweat as it is considered 'sexy'.
I give her my usual chat of 'I don't do kissing in public' But go back on my word 20 seconds later and find myself pulling her.
The bar closes and I'm all over the place. Ask her if she wants to come back to mine. She says she wants to drink more (insult?) so we move on. I'm literally so drunk I can barely stand, I must be tired from the grinding. She tries to kiss me in the next bar, but I barely recognise her. Her lift shows up, and she leaves. I completely didn't get her number. Terrible. I text the 30 year old: I can't believe you went home without me. No reply. I ring her. No answer. I ring her again. Answer! Bingo.
"What do you mean you don't want me to come over?"
"I'm too tired, come over next week"
"But I still have your bracelet and want to return it"
"bring it next week"
I trudge home.
Meant to be coaching 8 year olds how to play rugby the next day at 11. I wake up at 12:30 and miss it. Their coach, mentor and hero lets them down. I don't really feel that guilty as I'm in serious pain. It's 38 degrees so I give in to my boss and go lay by her pool and burn myself to shit.
I have no real plans for this week, apart from I know I'm going out Thursday with some people from work (not my boss).
Friday is pay day. What shall I do? What would be best for the blog? (Next week's blog may be the last for 2 weeks, as my parents are coming and I am going to see my grandparents for the 4th of July weekend, and you probably won't want to hear about that)
Options:
Friday: Drinks around here with some of the rugby boys? Head into Philly on my own to see what mischief I can cause (if I am doing it for the blog, I might man up and actually cause some, but this is a risky option) Head up to NY and go out with Jaron?
Saturday: Pretty much the same, but NY does sound appealing.
I want to put the final blog for 2 weeks in your hands. Answers in a facebook message or an email please.
My lesson from this week: try things you don't think you'll ever like, as you never know. Even if you don't, you can say you have. Alas now, all of you will be able to get me at I have never with: I have never had a rim job off my boss.
Happy Hunting
Peter.
Wednesday 16 June 2010
Junior disco
Evening gents.
First up, an apology. I apologise for the delay in this blog coming out for the second week running. I'd love to say it's because I have been in a drunken daze-it's not, I have been busy with work which is the one thing holding me back at the moment.
Start things off with last Wednesday. Was walking through town after work picking up some food, and bump into the 30 year old from a few weeks ago. Awkward. Anyway, out of politeness, and not really having too much else to say, I ask her for a drink. An interesting call. She has a fairly shocked look on her face, and begrudgingly says yes. We are obviously both really upset about the issue. I've made things terribly awkward. Basically end up necking my pint as she is very dry and wandering on home. At one point, I even choose the weather as a conversation. However, this is not as bad as the coalition government, which my friend Bruce tends to use as a chat up line. For a full version of this, I refer you to his blog. I should have tried harder to get the growl in, but just really was happy to get out of the situation I put myself in.
Thursday, and my boss is coming round for the evening. I am getting bored of her now. She does my head in a little, and having her there has eliminated the fear of having no sex, that drives my instinct to get laid. Having said that, we are now at the stage of when the sex starts to get really good. She's been floating the idea of anal about, and has started making me really spank her hard when I've got her from behind. One time she even made me pull her hair. I enjoy this kind of act immensely, you are there really putting your boss in her place, and the next day she has you writing reports. I love it when it comes out in her accent too. It makes me feel like a proper porn star. But on Thursday I got massively carried away. Getting her from behind, one hand pulling her hair, the other letting rip on her arse, I look down and see the massive hand print I've left. I giggle and end up pulling her hair really hard. She bucks up sharply and knocks me off the couch, falling, I let out the gayest yelp/cry for help I think I've ever managed- a bit like a puppy dog that has hurt its paw. Fortunately my head misses the coffee table, but my ego is bruised and go to bed sheepishly, after finishing the job in silence in the missionary position
Friday night I got myself involved in a softball game. A fairly easy sport-they pitch a grapefruit sized ball underarm to you and you hit it. Really didn't get the fascination. An amusing anecdote from this evening? One guy on my team is the token water boy-shit player, shit lad. A bit like a guy we nicknamed Tommy gun at university. Can't catch, can barely run, forgets to take his glasses off to play and makes terrible conversation. I throw a frisby to him and tell him to fetch. I'm terrible at throwing frisbies, and I see it head in the opposite direction towards the scrum machine. This scrum machine has pads on one side where you hit to practice srumming, and a fence like thing around the back where you put big concrete slabs in for weight. He runs after it. Not looking where he is going, he topples over the fence like thing and smashes his face on a concrete slab. The best thing about this is that his role as water boy/team bitch, meant everyone laughed and no one cared and we carried on playing frisby after someone else ran over and got it.
I made my excuses and left as I was a) driving b) wanted to wake up early to watch England vs. Aus and c) wanted some sleep before the arrival of big guy the next day.
After waking early to watch a pile of crap rugby game, I head over and get a train about 11 to head up to our hostel in NYC. I get a text off big guy on the way saying he has touched down, I text him back telling him how excited I am. As we are drinking with the football starting at 2, I tell him I can guarantee I have pulled before 8pm. Really back myself.
Check into the hostel-it was the cheapest one I could find, a bargain at $40 a night for a room. What they didn't tell you online that it's in the middle of the gay village. I never said what gender before 8pm! Big guy gets there about 1:30, and we meet Jaron and head over to watch the football. The place we have been recommended by the gay guy at reception is a taxi ride away, and when we get there at 1:50, completely packed with the police outside helping the bouncers out. We get a recommendation off one of them and head over 2 blocks. We get lost. On the way, we see a girl, Lauren, who is supporting a London underground themed t shirt and has a st georges cross on her face. She's tall and skinny, not too much up top on her chest and face about a 5/10. A 1 on the binary scale though. We ask her where she's heading and she takes us there. She turns out to be American, oddly. She just loves English things/people. Get to this complete dive bar, no one there, but they are showing the game and they have buy one get one free throughout the game, so as good a place as any. We start watching, and within the first 5 minutes of the matches, our cries of 'come on England' have brought about 90 more punters into the bar. The more I drank, the rowdier I became. As soon as USA scored, about 40 people start laughing at us and chanting USA...USA. I try to get big guy and jaron to start chanting back "you suck arse" with me, but I look like a twat on my own.
Jaron, big guy laruen and I are 3 or 4 deep before the start of the second half and play a round of cheers. Lauren's cheers of 'cheers to meeting 3 cute english guys today' really meant something to me-she wanted me. The second half came and went and so did another 4 pints. I've been flirting outrageously with Lauren all of the second half and end up pulling her at about 4:30. I'm laughing so hard as I do this as I'm trying to kick big guy to get him to watch me do what I told him I would. He hasn't seen. I get into a better position for him to view, kick him, say watch, and pull her again. Sweet. She's average at best, but I don't care. I get the tongue stuck in. Big guy shouts: 'with the tongue!' really loudly and a few people in the bar start watching. These two people Jaron's been talking to look over. One looks like russel brand, the other is a girl he met that afternoon covered in tatoos. Americans in general take the term 'shit ink' to a brand new level. She had two crows, one on each collar pointing inwards, down at her droopy boobs. She tells me her name, but I forget it, and so me and big guy start calling her ink.
We get hungry, we want mexican. Russel brand man, ink, lauren, jaron, big guy and I go for dinner. Looking back on it, I essentially went for dinner with a mate, a mate from work, a bird I have been pulling but met 4 hours earlier, a guy Jaron met in a bar and a bird covered in shit ink. At the mexican, the free nachos go down a storm. They have spicy sauce on the table so big guy and I play 5s for who eats a nacho covered in ridiculous sauce. I lose. It's painful. Big guy does one too because he's a ledge. I don't really talk to lauren who's on my other side as she's boring me. I only face her to pull her as I pluck up the courage to ask her to fuck in the toilets. Our food comes. All of us, apart from Jaron start eating. Jaron bets the table he can eat his burrito without his knife and fork. Good on him. He gets his face stuck in. He does pretty well so towards the end of the meal, we up the stakes. We pass his plate round and we each get to add either the red or the green hot sauce. His plate becomes a mess of green and red chilli with a little bit of rice. He gets it in his nose and nearly passes out from the heat. Meanwhile, I have visited the toilets to test the logistics of my big question. I get back, turn to her and pull her some more. I say:
"Lauren, shall we go and fuck in the toilets?"
"No"
A swift rejection. Much better than dragging it out. Waiter brings more nachos and big guy and I start throwing them at people and around the restaurant, he takes a handful and scrunches them up and throws them on my lap. The bill arrives without us asking for it. A hint to leave? perhaps. We get outside, russel brand look alike tries to take everyones name and number. I put Peter Hunter in his phone. Big Guy can't even spell his own name he is so drunk. Having been rejected by Lauren, big guy and I want to get away from her, so we start running away, leaving Jaron as a casualty. They find us at a crossroads. Lauren tries to hold my hand to cross the road, so big guy and I turn and run the other way. This time we don't stop. Lose her. I have Jaron's number so I can ring him, he's only the temporary fall guy. Get back to the hostel and shower. Neither of us have towels so we use the bed sheets. Jaron meets up with us after ditching her himself. He lies on my bed and nearly passes out. We leave the hostel. Big guy is struggling to cope with the 8 hour flight and associated jet lag. We get a couple 5 hour energy shots and keep our spirits up. Jaron says he's going home to put a shirt on. As he disappears onto the subway, big guy says to me-we won't be seeing him again tonight. And he's right, we didn't. Now Jaron claims he passed out as the chilli was so hot. I question what's better: passing out because chilli is too hot, or passing out because you're hammered at 8:30? I think I'd choose hammered.
Get to our first bar. Couple beers. Overhear this woman saying that if she was in England she'd choose to watch rugby over football. Cue to guys who have been newly signed by Saracens to head over for a chat. We get away with it, but only just. Her fiancé is there, and he's English and into rugby. The mate they are with however, is stunning. Amazing pert little fillet steaks for breasts and a gorgeous face. We convince her to take us rodeo bull riding in a bar, but then she suddenly remembers she has a birthday party to go to, so backs out. She does tell us some local hotspots for 23 year old birds though. Next bar is awesome, we get table service and order cocktails to our table which is outside on the street of Manhattan in the cool summer night. We talk about how cool it would be to live there, and it's true, I honestly can't think of anywhere I'd rather live. After a couple ridiculously overpriced cocktails later we head on. It's so sex and the city. Get an energy shot again. That's 15 hours we should be good for.
G+Ts in the next bar. Get chatting to these girls, very poor standard. They try to have some chat-say we don't look old enough to be out of Uni. I ask how old they are, and their response of 'never ask a woman her age' is so fucking standard I turn my back and stop talking to them. I can do better. See better across the bar, wink at her and beckon her over. Doesn't work, so big guy tries. Still doesn't work. Suddenly see a huge bloke coming right for us. Great, her boyfriend. He comes up to us and asks to take us outside. We apologise and say no. He says the only reason he has not fucked us up is because we have accents. Realising he is not going to beat us up, we start chatting to him to diffuse the situation. Turns out he trains the special forces in hand to hand combat in Afghanistan. Tells us that he once got two guys to put $1000 on a bar, he did the same, winner takes all. He fucked them up and took their money. Tried to do the same with us, we said no, obviously. He's trained with ultimate fighters and ever offers to have one hand tied behind his back to beat us up. Still didn't fancy it. I know Jack would have backed himself, but I am not a big fighter. He departs with: you guys be careful, people are packing heat around here, so don't go winking at dudes girlfriends, let them come to you.
Not phased we move on to a club. It's 11pm and they are playing some of the kind of cheese that big guy and I used to revel in in our uni days. Get in there, full of stunning 18-24 year olds. I'm in heaven. Nail some drinks and hit the dance floor. Start chatting to a couple girls. All it takes is a smile and they come to you here, it's brilliant. Pull about 3 girls within an hour. But focus my attentions on one of the fittest girls I've ever got with, who turns out to be Polish and not impressed with my accent, but likes my chat (I am so drunk, I have no idea why) Go back to the dance floor, and get big guy to occupy her mate. Look over and she's going in for it. Being a mate, I slip my hand over his mouth and yank his head away to save him from feeling shit about it the next day. He thanks me and I go back to my Polish bird. It's 12:50 and I'm so excited about the next 3 hours. Go to the toilet with big guy for a team chat.
'I want to leave'
'Big guy, what the fuck!??!!'
'Yeah we are going'
Big guy's jetlag ruining my opportunity to growl a stunner. Obviously I leave as he's never been in NYC before and we are both fucking pissed. Get an energy shot to try and perk him up. We are both on caffeine overdrive. Our bodies are saying no more, but our minds are not. We get some pizza to discuss tactics. Big guy still wants out, and it's just turned 1:30. We walk towards home. My chat of: fuck you, we are in the city that never sleeps and we are going home at 1:30, you are so hardcore, yeah well done mate, I really wanted to go too, yeah cheers mate, you're a ledge" seemed to have the desired effect. A beautiful girl standing outside a bar starts chatting to us. Tells us we are more than welcome to join her mates birthday. Go in and big guy goes off with a dude in a funny hat to laugh and watch me chat to every girl in sight as they both have girlfriends. Again, I somehow manage to pull 2 really fit girls. One of which, admittedly, is so pissed she gets up and falls off her bar stool. The other gets dragged out by her mates. Nevertheless, I am happy at not only the volume, but also the standard. Nail some sambuca and have a vodka red bull, leave at about 3 and go back, 13 hours of drinking...check, nearly got in a fight....check, pulled about 6 girls like its junior disco...check, spent over $200....check, had an awesome time....check.
The next day we wake up at 6. Hearts are pounding from the caffeine, freezing cold as we used wet bed sheets, and still drunk as fuck. We head out around 9 after checking out, and go for brunch and all you can drink champagne. Thank god they didn't start serving until 12. I really struggled through my eggs. Jaron met up with us, and we went on to check into Big guy's hotel that he was to share for the next two nights with his girlfriend, Daisy. The room isn't ready so, heads pounding, hearts palpitating, we head over to central park to have a nice Sunday afternoon sleep on the grass. Get off the subway and the street is filled with Peurto Rican people. A nightmare, it's Peurto Rico national day, and they are having a parade through the park. People are banging drums and ringing bells in my face. 3 hours sleep, an arse hole like the Japanese flag and a brain functioning about as well as my mate's bruce's ability to control his sphincter, I am losing patience. We try to cross into the park but the parade is going by at a snails pace. A float goes by, people are waving and cheering. Not me and big guy, we are standing at the front letting our feelings known through our facial expressions. A float goes by and stops in front of us. I nearly flip out, but thankfully we get let through the gate and across into the park. Find a vaguely quiet spot and sleep for the majority of the afternoon, before going back and sleeping in big guy's hotel room.
A conclusion I have drawn from Sunday is this: girls, literally, no matter how cool you think they are at first are all the same. Daisy was on a bus coming into NYC, but was running late. We had planned to have dinner, but I needed to get back home as I had a trip to Chicago with work the following morning. She text him saying, if I'm not there by 7, just go ahead. It gets to 7, so we go, she's still an hour or more away. Eat our dinner. Get back and she is fuming at him, having got in closer to 9, that we didn't wait. Ahhh women. I love them though.
Chicago was ok, although worked until past mid night and had a 9 am flight so didn't get up to much. Had a nice meal out with work last night, and am going on the smash tomorrow night with my boss (unfortunately). Then who knows where the weekend will take me.
The conclusions I have drawn from this weekend are these: 1. I love drinking 2. I love women 3. we should all get jobs in New York
Happy hunting.
Peter.
First up, an apology. I apologise for the delay in this blog coming out for the second week running. I'd love to say it's because I have been in a drunken daze-it's not, I have been busy with work which is the one thing holding me back at the moment.
Start things off with last Wednesday. Was walking through town after work picking up some food, and bump into the 30 year old from a few weeks ago. Awkward. Anyway, out of politeness, and not really having too much else to say, I ask her for a drink. An interesting call. She has a fairly shocked look on her face, and begrudgingly says yes. We are obviously both really upset about the issue. I've made things terribly awkward. Basically end up necking my pint as she is very dry and wandering on home. At one point, I even choose the weather as a conversation. However, this is not as bad as the coalition government, which my friend Bruce tends to use as a chat up line. For a full version of this, I refer you to his blog. I should have tried harder to get the growl in, but just really was happy to get out of the situation I put myself in.
Thursday, and my boss is coming round for the evening. I am getting bored of her now. She does my head in a little, and having her there has eliminated the fear of having no sex, that drives my instinct to get laid. Having said that, we are now at the stage of when the sex starts to get really good. She's been floating the idea of anal about, and has started making me really spank her hard when I've got her from behind. One time she even made me pull her hair. I enjoy this kind of act immensely, you are there really putting your boss in her place, and the next day she has you writing reports. I love it when it comes out in her accent too. It makes me feel like a proper porn star. But on Thursday I got massively carried away. Getting her from behind, one hand pulling her hair, the other letting rip on her arse, I look down and see the massive hand print I've left. I giggle and end up pulling her hair really hard. She bucks up sharply and knocks me off the couch, falling, I let out the gayest yelp/cry for help I think I've ever managed- a bit like a puppy dog that has hurt its paw. Fortunately my head misses the coffee table, but my ego is bruised and go to bed sheepishly, after finishing the job in silence in the missionary position
Friday night I got myself involved in a softball game. A fairly easy sport-they pitch a grapefruit sized ball underarm to you and you hit it. Really didn't get the fascination. An amusing anecdote from this evening? One guy on my team is the token water boy-shit player, shit lad. A bit like a guy we nicknamed Tommy gun at university. Can't catch, can barely run, forgets to take his glasses off to play and makes terrible conversation. I throw a frisby to him and tell him to fetch. I'm terrible at throwing frisbies, and I see it head in the opposite direction towards the scrum machine. This scrum machine has pads on one side where you hit to practice srumming, and a fence like thing around the back where you put big concrete slabs in for weight. He runs after it. Not looking where he is going, he topples over the fence like thing and smashes his face on a concrete slab. The best thing about this is that his role as water boy/team bitch, meant everyone laughed and no one cared and we carried on playing frisby after someone else ran over and got it.
I made my excuses and left as I was a) driving b) wanted to wake up early to watch England vs. Aus and c) wanted some sleep before the arrival of big guy the next day.
After waking early to watch a pile of crap rugby game, I head over and get a train about 11 to head up to our hostel in NYC. I get a text off big guy on the way saying he has touched down, I text him back telling him how excited I am. As we are drinking with the football starting at 2, I tell him I can guarantee I have pulled before 8pm. Really back myself.
Check into the hostel-it was the cheapest one I could find, a bargain at $40 a night for a room. What they didn't tell you online that it's in the middle of the gay village. I never said what gender before 8pm! Big guy gets there about 1:30, and we meet Jaron and head over to watch the football. The place we have been recommended by the gay guy at reception is a taxi ride away, and when we get there at 1:50, completely packed with the police outside helping the bouncers out. We get a recommendation off one of them and head over 2 blocks. We get lost. On the way, we see a girl, Lauren, who is supporting a London underground themed t shirt and has a st georges cross on her face. She's tall and skinny, not too much up top on her chest and face about a 5/10. A 1 on the binary scale though. We ask her where she's heading and she takes us there. She turns out to be American, oddly. She just loves English things/people. Get to this complete dive bar, no one there, but they are showing the game and they have buy one get one free throughout the game, so as good a place as any. We start watching, and within the first 5 minutes of the matches, our cries of 'come on England' have brought about 90 more punters into the bar. The more I drank, the rowdier I became. As soon as USA scored, about 40 people start laughing at us and chanting USA...USA. I try to get big guy and jaron to start chanting back "you suck arse" with me, but I look like a twat on my own.
Jaron, big guy laruen and I are 3 or 4 deep before the start of the second half and play a round of cheers. Lauren's cheers of 'cheers to meeting 3 cute english guys today' really meant something to me-she wanted me. The second half came and went and so did another 4 pints. I've been flirting outrageously with Lauren all of the second half and end up pulling her at about 4:30. I'm laughing so hard as I do this as I'm trying to kick big guy to get him to watch me do what I told him I would. He hasn't seen. I get into a better position for him to view, kick him, say watch, and pull her again. Sweet. She's average at best, but I don't care. I get the tongue stuck in. Big guy shouts: 'with the tongue!' really loudly and a few people in the bar start watching. These two people Jaron's been talking to look over. One looks like russel brand, the other is a girl he met that afternoon covered in tatoos. Americans in general take the term 'shit ink' to a brand new level. She had two crows, one on each collar pointing inwards, down at her droopy boobs. She tells me her name, but I forget it, and so me and big guy start calling her ink.
We get hungry, we want mexican. Russel brand man, ink, lauren, jaron, big guy and I go for dinner. Looking back on it, I essentially went for dinner with a mate, a mate from work, a bird I have been pulling but met 4 hours earlier, a guy Jaron met in a bar and a bird covered in shit ink. At the mexican, the free nachos go down a storm. They have spicy sauce on the table so big guy and I play 5s for who eats a nacho covered in ridiculous sauce. I lose. It's painful. Big guy does one too because he's a ledge. I don't really talk to lauren who's on my other side as she's boring me. I only face her to pull her as I pluck up the courage to ask her to fuck in the toilets. Our food comes. All of us, apart from Jaron start eating. Jaron bets the table he can eat his burrito without his knife and fork. Good on him. He gets his face stuck in. He does pretty well so towards the end of the meal, we up the stakes. We pass his plate round and we each get to add either the red or the green hot sauce. His plate becomes a mess of green and red chilli with a little bit of rice. He gets it in his nose and nearly passes out from the heat. Meanwhile, I have visited the toilets to test the logistics of my big question. I get back, turn to her and pull her some more. I say:
"Lauren, shall we go and fuck in the toilets?"
"No"
A swift rejection. Much better than dragging it out. Waiter brings more nachos and big guy and I start throwing them at people and around the restaurant, he takes a handful and scrunches them up and throws them on my lap. The bill arrives without us asking for it. A hint to leave? perhaps. We get outside, russel brand look alike tries to take everyones name and number. I put Peter Hunter in his phone. Big Guy can't even spell his own name he is so drunk. Having been rejected by Lauren, big guy and I want to get away from her, so we start running away, leaving Jaron as a casualty. They find us at a crossroads. Lauren tries to hold my hand to cross the road, so big guy and I turn and run the other way. This time we don't stop. Lose her. I have Jaron's number so I can ring him, he's only the temporary fall guy. Get back to the hostel and shower. Neither of us have towels so we use the bed sheets. Jaron meets up with us after ditching her himself. He lies on my bed and nearly passes out. We leave the hostel. Big guy is struggling to cope with the 8 hour flight and associated jet lag. We get a couple 5 hour energy shots and keep our spirits up. Jaron says he's going home to put a shirt on. As he disappears onto the subway, big guy says to me-we won't be seeing him again tonight. And he's right, we didn't. Now Jaron claims he passed out as the chilli was so hot. I question what's better: passing out because chilli is too hot, or passing out because you're hammered at 8:30? I think I'd choose hammered.
Get to our first bar. Couple beers. Overhear this woman saying that if she was in England she'd choose to watch rugby over football. Cue to guys who have been newly signed by Saracens to head over for a chat. We get away with it, but only just. Her fiancé is there, and he's English and into rugby. The mate they are with however, is stunning. Amazing pert little fillet steaks for breasts and a gorgeous face. We convince her to take us rodeo bull riding in a bar, but then she suddenly remembers she has a birthday party to go to, so backs out. She does tell us some local hotspots for 23 year old birds though. Next bar is awesome, we get table service and order cocktails to our table which is outside on the street of Manhattan in the cool summer night. We talk about how cool it would be to live there, and it's true, I honestly can't think of anywhere I'd rather live. After a couple ridiculously overpriced cocktails later we head on. It's so sex and the city. Get an energy shot again. That's 15 hours we should be good for.
G+Ts in the next bar. Get chatting to these girls, very poor standard. They try to have some chat-say we don't look old enough to be out of Uni. I ask how old they are, and their response of 'never ask a woman her age' is so fucking standard I turn my back and stop talking to them. I can do better. See better across the bar, wink at her and beckon her over. Doesn't work, so big guy tries. Still doesn't work. Suddenly see a huge bloke coming right for us. Great, her boyfriend. He comes up to us and asks to take us outside. We apologise and say no. He says the only reason he has not fucked us up is because we have accents. Realising he is not going to beat us up, we start chatting to him to diffuse the situation. Turns out he trains the special forces in hand to hand combat in Afghanistan. Tells us that he once got two guys to put $1000 on a bar, he did the same, winner takes all. He fucked them up and took their money. Tried to do the same with us, we said no, obviously. He's trained with ultimate fighters and ever offers to have one hand tied behind his back to beat us up. Still didn't fancy it. I know Jack would have backed himself, but I am not a big fighter. He departs with: you guys be careful, people are packing heat around here, so don't go winking at dudes girlfriends, let them come to you.
Not phased we move on to a club. It's 11pm and they are playing some of the kind of cheese that big guy and I used to revel in in our uni days. Get in there, full of stunning 18-24 year olds. I'm in heaven. Nail some drinks and hit the dance floor. Start chatting to a couple girls. All it takes is a smile and they come to you here, it's brilliant. Pull about 3 girls within an hour. But focus my attentions on one of the fittest girls I've ever got with, who turns out to be Polish and not impressed with my accent, but likes my chat (I am so drunk, I have no idea why) Go back to the dance floor, and get big guy to occupy her mate. Look over and she's going in for it. Being a mate, I slip my hand over his mouth and yank his head away to save him from feeling shit about it the next day. He thanks me and I go back to my Polish bird. It's 12:50 and I'm so excited about the next 3 hours. Go to the toilet with big guy for a team chat.
'I want to leave'
'Big guy, what the fuck!??!!'
'Yeah we are going'
Big guy's jetlag ruining my opportunity to growl a stunner. Obviously I leave as he's never been in NYC before and we are both fucking pissed. Get an energy shot to try and perk him up. We are both on caffeine overdrive. Our bodies are saying no more, but our minds are not. We get some pizza to discuss tactics. Big guy still wants out, and it's just turned 1:30. We walk towards home. My chat of: fuck you, we are in the city that never sleeps and we are going home at 1:30, you are so hardcore, yeah well done mate, I really wanted to go too, yeah cheers mate, you're a ledge" seemed to have the desired effect. A beautiful girl standing outside a bar starts chatting to us. Tells us we are more than welcome to join her mates birthday. Go in and big guy goes off with a dude in a funny hat to laugh and watch me chat to every girl in sight as they both have girlfriends. Again, I somehow manage to pull 2 really fit girls. One of which, admittedly, is so pissed she gets up and falls off her bar stool. The other gets dragged out by her mates. Nevertheless, I am happy at not only the volume, but also the standard. Nail some sambuca and have a vodka red bull, leave at about 3 and go back, 13 hours of drinking...check, nearly got in a fight....check, pulled about 6 girls like its junior disco...check, spent over $200....check, had an awesome time....check.
The next day we wake up at 6. Hearts are pounding from the caffeine, freezing cold as we used wet bed sheets, and still drunk as fuck. We head out around 9 after checking out, and go for brunch and all you can drink champagne. Thank god they didn't start serving until 12. I really struggled through my eggs. Jaron met up with us, and we went on to check into Big guy's hotel that he was to share for the next two nights with his girlfriend, Daisy. The room isn't ready so, heads pounding, hearts palpitating, we head over to central park to have a nice Sunday afternoon sleep on the grass. Get off the subway and the street is filled with Peurto Rican people. A nightmare, it's Peurto Rico national day, and they are having a parade through the park. People are banging drums and ringing bells in my face. 3 hours sleep, an arse hole like the Japanese flag and a brain functioning about as well as my mate's bruce's ability to control his sphincter, I am losing patience. We try to cross into the park but the parade is going by at a snails pace. A float goes by, people are waving and cheering. Not me and big guy, we are standing at the front letting our feelings known through our facial expressions. A float goes by and stops in front of us. I nearly flip out, but thankfully we get let through the gate and across into the park. Find a vaguely quiet spot and sleep for the majority of the afternoon, before going back and sleeping in big guy's hotel room.
A conclusion I have drawn from Sunday is this: girls, literally, no matter how cool you think they are at first are all the same. Daisy was on a bus coming into NYC, but was running late. We had planned to have dinner, but I needed to get back home as I had a trip to Chicago with work the following morning. She text him saying, if I'm not there by 7, just go ahead. It gets to 7, so we go, she's still an hour or more away. Eat our dinner. Get back and she is fuming at him, having got in closer to 9, that we didn't wait. Ahhh women. I love them though.
Chicago was ok, although worked until past mid night and had a 9 am flight so didn't get up to much. Had a nice meal out with work last night, and am going on the smash tomorrow night with my boss (unfortunately). Then who knows where the weekend will take me.
The conclusions I have drawn from this weekend are these: 1. I love drinking 2. I love women 3. we should all get jobs in New York
Happy hunting.
Peter.
Tuesday 8 June 2010
Evening
I hate to say it, I am a little disappointed in myself this week. After all the excitement a fantastic week of lash and shagging had brought to my last blog post, consider this it's evil twin. Terrible.
Tuesday started off for me poorly. I had to explain to my line manager why I was not physically capable of replying to any of her texts from the day before. I didn't particularly want to say that it was because I spent all day shagging the girl one promotion below her, so I told her that it was because I was too ill from a week of hard boozing. Partly true, I did feel rough. Rugby that evening was a laugh, the guys were getting ready for the national semis and finals the coming weekend, and we chatted about shagging co-workers. An issue I feel strongly about (you should do it).
Wednesday and Thursday were two of the worst days in my, admittedly short, working life. In at 7 on Wednesday, out at 9, in at 8 on Thursday, out at 10. Really shit all round. In better news, Jaron was planning on coming down from New York to get smashed the next day, which made Friday go a bit quicker. I told my boss I was taking the afternoon off, to make up for the extra hours I put in. She let me go at 4. She pays me no favours even though I'm fucking her. What a joke.
Go for a run, before meeting Jaron at the station. Bring him back here and we hit it hard. 2 hamburgers, 6 coronas and a quarter of a bottle of gin each, and we hit the town. The first Friday of every month in this town is meant to be a big night, bars stay open till 4, and people are out in force. Tanked up, we leave the flat at around 11. Some thing's wrong, did we miss the big party? It just looked like a regular Friday. This didn't hold us back however. Nailed some gins and a couple of pints in a couple bars. The cheeky Peter Hunter, I'm looking to growl smile, was on my face, and I wanted to make the most of it.
I have no issue with approaching girls. Seriously, I don't care, I can just go up to girls and start chatting, it bothers me very little. Normally what I say is utter shit and I get blown off (not in the good way Robin!) However, my issue is, if you are out drinking with one other guy, and he a) has a bird back in England b) doesn't understand consequence 5s/can't fathom why you'd play, I get put on a downward spiral, stuck in shit chat with a bloke. I like Robin, don't get me wrong, but when I drink one on one, I like to feel challenged. Take this exchange for example:
Peter: Mate, should I go chat to those birds?
Jaron: Why? They're rough
Peter: So? It will be funny. (I wink at one and beckon her over, with limited success)
Jaron: Nah, lets move on this place is shit
Peter: Say I'm a shit lad unless I do it. (It's starting to get awkward because I think they're expecting me to do more than just wink, but they are hideous)
Jaron: No, stop being a dick
Perter: Call me a fucking shit lad!
Jaron: No!
Peter: You are so disappointing.
The girls left. I'm left scratching my head as to why I have to be told I'm a shit lad before I'd do something I quite wanted to do anyway, and I feel like a dick for winking in a bar at two whales. We move on. Now we get to this place, 22-25 year olds outside smoking: check. Loud music coming from a dance floor: check A nice piece of growl walking out in a miniskirt: check. This is where we are heading, I'm excited. Start chatting to this bloke outside, who assures us we are going to get 'some serious ass with our accents'. We have lift off. I walk in, get IDed by the massive bouncer. That's OK, I had my passport. Jaron doesn't. I am fuming. There is excellent growl to be had on the other side of glass door, I'm allowed in, it's frustrating, but Jaron is pissed and doesn't know where he is.
After trying to sneak him in, unsuccessfully, we shamelessly walk back up the stairs, past all the people we were chatting to and move on. To the bar I always go to. One last gasp effort for some growl. I am fuming, not so much at Jaron, but because the bouncer didn't accept a British driving license off some one who's 28 as acceptable ID. (Robin, when you come, remember this, although you probably won't get IDed, you old noshface) Head into the bar. Sit at the bar, order a drink off the barman, Rich. Chat to him a bit. The other barman Dan, mixes us some shots and nails a couple with us. Vaguely good bit of growl next to me, so I give it a whirl. Turns out she's Rich's ex girlfriend. I'm not particularly bothered by this as I don't know rich, and she has particularly good tits. Actually going pretty well. In the land of the free, you know this when they say they like your accent. A great opportunity to play up on it and make a few gags. Jaron gives her some art chat (apparently she's an artist, this went over my head). The bar shuts, so we move on to the private members club, where everyone is a member, (it doesn't cost anything, you just write your name down as you go in). See a couple guys playing what looks like curling but in a bar, and the things you throw glide on sand on a bit of wood. Intriguing. Ask the guy if I can have a throw, he lets me. Just before I throw, I turn back to him and have another look at his T-shirt. Probably the best thing I've ever seen:
It's got the BP logo on it and underneath has the caption: BP, brining oil to American shores. Amazing. I look around the bar. There's the bird I was chatting up talking to Jaron. There's the blonde bird from last week. I head over. She's sober (again) and not offering too much. Still find a corner and pull her. But stop as I know she's sober and won't let me growl so I focus on the other one.
The bar shuts, we are kicked out. It's 4:30. Walk outside. Some American twat says to me: 'buddy stop putting on that fake British accent.' I reply: 'oh hello kind sir, I'm actually doing this as I am working on a new film project where I need to be British'. His reply: 'You're a dick. I don't talk to people over 25% body fat anyway". He high 5s his mate. My reply:"so why are you talking to her?" I then point at his bird. Looking back it was not so clever. Jaron and I grab the bird from the bar and run 1/4 of a mile, but he never chased us. On the way back, we stop off at hers, meet her housemate who has brought back a bloke. Her chat of I don't want to hear them fuck is obvious game. We go back to mine. On the way back she tells us how she is being pursued by 5 men. She shows us the messages. They are all along the lines of: You're really hot, why don't you like me ect.
To me it was obvious what needed to happen-be a twat. I basically just ignored her everytime she asked if I thought she had a nice arse (she did). Jaron got sucked into the trap. I had to hold him back and tell him to stop complimenting her as it will ruin it for both of us (he was convinced we'd have a threesome, I knew we weren't, as given the text messages, she struck me as a real game-player who is all chat). He continually reminded me this was not his style. I planned to have words the next day. Get back to mine, pour 3 gins. Sit in my living room drinking. Jaron goes to bed. She says: 'I'm tired too, where am I sleeping?' 'My room'. Drag her along, get into bed and start pulling. Get her tits out, they are amazing. perfect size and really pert (especially as she's 30) She rolls over and says: 'can we just cuddle?' 'No, I want to growl you out'. I chuck her thong off and growl her. She noshes me off. We eventually pass out about 6:30.
Wake up about 12 the next day, she's naked. I have rugby shorts on. She asks me why I'm not, and I swiftly apologise and take them off. She didn't like this. She liked it even less when I tell her I lied about my age, I'm not actually 26, I'm 24. I figure bring her down gradually, another 2 more steps of one year each should do the trick. She jumps out of bed, has an amazing body, face is about a 6. She gets dressed and heads to my dresser where my passport is and picks it up. I jump up and snatch it off her and tell her I'd drive her home. Get her home.
I feel it appropriate to tell you at this point I give this girl 1 on my new scale of rating birds- the binary scale. Birds can either be a 1 or a 0. 1=you would, 0=you wouldn't. Simple, effective, everyone is always on the same page.
Head into Philly for the first time. It's a bit ghetto. Cheesesteak, however is one of the best things I've ever eaten. I can still taste it now. 100% pure beef, melted cheese and fried onions on a footlong roll. I have 2. Our friend Nigel (who owns a sweet shop) would have been in heaven. Pure meat and grease. The record holder is 13 in an hour. Nige could beat this, I'd back him. See the liberty bell and independence hall, but didn't really care because of my hangover. Didn't even find the rocky steps. Grab a beer with Jaron and his mate who's showing us around, before getting the train back at 9.
Thinking we'd get on it back at home, Jaron decides he wants to watch a film and go to bed. A fucking poor choice, although I didn't complain too hard as I was in a world of pain.
Sunday comes, we get some brunch. Fairly good bit of growl serving us, so we give her some chat. Leave my number on the bill but yet no phone call.
Take Jaron back to the station. My rugby club has made the national finals, and it's showing in the bar where I met the girl on Friday night. I don't want to go back there as her ex is apparently still massively keen. I decide to watch it online at home, and leave it a week or so. My team are winning 17-10 with 4 minutes to play the other team score, convert. Extra time. End up losing by 2 tries, heartbreaking. I would have then been able to claim that I won national championships in Germany and the USA and as such my talents know no bounds- I would have won national champs in 2/6 continents (not counting antartica). I'll settle for second though.
Sunday evening get a phone call off a woman named stacy. I have put myself forward to do some coaching over the summer for some kids (genuine hero). Thinking I'd get the under 12/13s, Stacey informs me they are looking for a new coach for the under 19 girls. Thank you stacey. I know rugby girls (especially the forwards) may not sound the most appealing, but I'm banking on the back 3, scrum half, fly half and possibly the centres to be of decent ilk.
Monday was hell at work. Firstly, the E-mails were in full flow. Jack broke up with cuntface. (I feel a little harsh naming her this now, but that was the blog name I gave her, so I'm sticking to it) We obviously told him to man the fuck up and hit a strip club, talk to birds about it so we don't need to and to start shagging around (I swear!). I was, again, in work until 10pm.
This coming weekend I am heading up to NYC where my mate Chad 'big guy' Stephens will meet me at midday, before watching the first England world cup game vs. USA, which should be good fun. Big guy is a good lad to have as a one on one drinking buddy as he is up for consequence 5s, and gets pissed as fuck. We are yet to book anywhere to stay, but I am strongly considering not, and having a session from 1pm right into the next day if needs be. Again though, as it's one on one drinking, I can't go off for growl. Or could I? Find out next week.
Happy hunting
Peter
x
I hate to say it, I am a little disappointed in myself this week. After all the excitement a fantastic week of lash and shagging had brought to my last blog post, consider this it's evil twin. Terrible.
Tuesday started off for me poorly. I had to explain to my line manager why I was not physically capable of replying to any of her texts from the day before. I didn't particularly want to say that it was because I spent all day shagging the girl one promotion below her, so I told her that it was because I was too ill from a week of hard boozing. Partly true, I did feel rough. Rugby that evening was a laugh, the guys were getting ready for the national semis and finals the coming weekend, and we chatted about shagging co-workers. An issue I feel strongly about (you should do it).
Wednesday and Thursday were two of the worst days in my, admittedly short, working life. In at 7 on Wednesday, out at 9, in at 8 on Thursday, out at 10. Really shit all round. In better news, Jaron was planning on coming down from New York to get smashed the next day, which made Friday go a bit quicker. I told my boss I was taking the afternoon off, to make up for the extra hours I put in. She let me go at 4. She pays me no favours even though I'm fucking her. What a joke.
Go for a run, before meeting Jaron at the station. Bring him back here and we hit it hard. 2 hamburgers, 6 coronas and a quarter of a bottle of gin each, and we hit the town. The first Friday of every month in this town is meant to be a big night, bars stay open till 4, and people are out in force. Tanked up, we leave the flat at around 11. Some thing's wrong, did we miss the big party? It just looked like a regular Friday. This didn't hold us back however. Nailed some gins and a couple of pints in a couple bars. The cheeky Peter Hunter, I'm looking to growl smile, was on my face, and I wanted to make the most of it.
I have no issue with approaching girls. Seriously, I don't care, I can just go up to girls and start chatting, it bothers me very little. Normally what I say is utter shit and I get blown off (not in the good way Robin!) However, my issue is, if you are out drinking with one other guy, and he a) has a bird back in England b) doesn't understand consequence 5s/can't fathom why you'd play, I get put on a downward spiral, stuck in shit chat with a bloke. I like Robin, don't get me wrong, but when I drink one on one, I like to feel challenged. Take this exchange for example:
Peter: Mate, should I go chat to those birds?
Jaron: Why? They're rough
Peter: So? It will be funny. (I wink at one and beckon her over, with limited success)
Jaron: Nah, lets move on this place is shit
Peter: Say I'm a shit lad unless I do it. (It's starting to get awkward because I think they're expecting me to do more than just wink, but they are hideous)
Jaron: No, stop being a dick
Perter: Call me a fucking shit lad!
Jaron: No!
Peter: You are so disappointing.
The girls left. I'm left scratching my head as to why I have to be told I'm a shit lad before I'd do something I quite wanted to do anyway, and I feel like a dick for winking in a bar at two whales. We move on. Now we get to this place, 22-25 year olds outside smoking: check. Loud music coming from a dance floor: check A nice piece of growl walking out in a miniskirt: check. This is where we are heading, I'm excited. Start chatting to this bloke outside, who assures us we are going to get 'some serious ass with our accents'. We have lift off. I walk in, get IDed by the massive bouncer. That's OK, I had my passport. Jaron doesn't. I am fuming. There is excellent growl to be had on the other side of glass door, I'm allowed in, it's frustrating, but Jaron is pissed and doesn't know where he is.
After trying to sneak him in, unsuccessfully, we shamelessly walk back up the stairs, past all the people we were chatting to and move on. To the bar I always go to. One last gasp effort for some growl. I am fuming, not so much at Jaron, but because the bouncer didn't accept a British driving license off some one who's 28 as acceptable ID. (Robin, when you come, remember this, although you probably won't get IDed, you old noshface) Head into the bar. Sit at the bar, order a drink off the barman, Rich. Chat to him a bit. The other barman Dan, mixes us some shots and nails a couple with us. Vaguely good bit of growl next to me, so I give it a whirl. Turns out she's Rich's ex girlfriend. I'm not particularly bothered by this as I don't know rich, and she has particularly good tits. Actually going pretty well. In the land of the free, you know this when they say they like your accent. A great opportunity to play up on it and make a few gags. Jaron gives her some art chat (apparently she's an artist, this went over my head). The bar shuts, so we move on to the private members club, where everyone is a member, (it doesn't cost anything, you just write your name down as you go in). See a couple guys playing what looks like curling but in a bar, and the things you throw glide on sand on a bit of wood. Intriguing. Ask the guy if I can have a throw, he lets me. Just before I throw, I turn back to him and have another look at his T-shirt. Probably the best thing I've ever seen:
It's got the BP logo on it and underneath has the caption: BP, brining oil to American shores. Amazing. I look around the bar. There's the bird I was chatting up talking to Jaron. There's the blonde bird from last week. I head over. She's sober (again) and not offering too much. Still find a corner and pull her. But stop as I know she's sober and won't let me growl so I focus on the other one.
The bar shuts, we are kicked out. It's 4:30. Walk outside. Some American twat says to me: 'buddy stop putting on that fake British accent.' I reply: 'oh hello kind sir, I'm actually doing this as I am working on a new film project where I need to be British'. His reply: 'You're a dick. I don't talk to people over 25% body fat anyway". He high 5s his mate. My reply:"so why are you talking to her?" I then point at his bird. Looking back it was not so clever. Jaron and I grab the bird from the bar and run 1/4 of a mile, but he never chased us. On the way back, we stop off at hers, meet her housemate who has brought back a bloke. Her chat of I don't want to hear them fuck is obvious game. We go back to mine. On the way back she tells us how she is being pursued by 5 men. She shows us the messages. They are all along the lines of: You're really hot, why don't you like me ect.
To me it was obvious what needed to happen-be a twat. I basically just ignored her everytime she asked if I thought she had a nice arse (she did). Jaron got sucked into the trap. I had to hold him back and tell him to stop complimenting her as it will ruin it for both of us (he was convinced we'd have a threesome, I knew we weren't, as given the text messages, she struck me as a real game-player who is all chat). He continually reminded me this was not his style. I planned to have words the next day. Get back to mine, pour 3 gins. Sit in my living room drinking. Jaron goes to bed. She says: 'I'm tired too, where am I sleeping?' 'My room'. Drag her along, get into bed and start pulling. Get her tits out, they are amazing. perfect size and really pert (especially as she's 30) She rolls over and says: 'can we just cuddle?' 'No, I want to growl you out'. I chuck her thong off and growl her. She noshes me off. We eventually pass out about 6:30.
Wake up about 12 the next day, she's naked. I have rugby shorts on. She asks me why I'm not, and I swiftly apologise and take them off. She didn't like this. She liked it even less when I tell her I lied about my age, I'm not actually 26, I'm 24. I figure bring her down gradually, another 2 more steps of one year each should do the trick. She jumps out of bed, has an amazing body, face is about a 6. She gets dressed and heads to my dresser where my passport is and picks it up. I jump up and snatch it off her and tell her I'd drive her home. Get her home.
I feel it appropriate to tell you at this point I give this girl 1 on my new scale of rating birds- the binary scale. Birds can either be a 1 or a 0. 1=you would, 0=you wouldn't. Simple, effective, everyone is always on the same page.
Head into Philly for the first time. It's a bit ghetto. Cheesesteak, however is one of the best things I've ever eaten. I can still taste it now. 100% pure beef, melted cheese and fried onions on a footlong roll. I have 2. Our friend Nigel (who owns a sweet shop) would have been in heaven. Pure meat and grease. The record holder is 13 in an hour. Nige could beat this, I'd back him. See the liberty bell and independence hall, but didn't really care because of my hangover. Didn't even find the rocky steps. Grab a beer with Jaron and his mate who's showing us around, before getting the train back at 9.
Thinking we'd get on it back at home, Jaron decides he wants to watch a film and go to bed. A fucking poor choice, although I didn't complain too hard as I was in a world of pain.
Sunday comes, we get some brunch. Fairly good bit of growl serving us, so we give her some chat. Leave my number on the bill but yet no phone call.
Take Jaron back to the station. My rugby club has made the national finals, and it's showing in the bar where I met the girl on Friday night. I don't want to go back there as her ex is apparently still massively keen. I decide to watch it online at home, and leave it a week or so. My team are winning 17-10 with 4 minutes to play the other team score, convert. Extra time. End up losing by 2 tries, heartbreaking. I would have then been able to claim that I won national championships in Germany and the USA and as such my talents know no bounds- I would have won national champs in 2/6 continents (not counting antartica). I'll settle for second though.
Sunday evening get a phone call off a woman named stacy. I have put myself forward to do some coaching over the summer for some kids (genuine hero). Thinking I'd get the under 12/13s, Stacey informs me they are looking for a new coach for the under 19 girls. Thank you stacey. I know rugby girls (especially the forwards) may not sound the most appealing, but I'm banking on the back 3, scrum half, fly half and possibly the centres to be of decent ilk.
Monday was hell at work. Firstly, the E-mails were in full flow. Jack broke up with cuntface. (I feel a little harsh naming her this now, but that was the blog name I gave her, so I'm sticking to it) We obviously told him to man the fuck up and hit a strip club, talk to birds about it so we don't need to and to start shagging around (I swear!). I was, again, in work until 10pm.
This coming weekend I am heading up to NYC where my mate Chad 'big guy' Stephens will meet me at midday, before watching the first England world cup game vs. USA, which should be good fun. Big guy is a good lad to have as a one on one drinking buddy as he is up for consequence 5s, and gets pissed as fuck. We are yet to book anywhere to stay, but I am strongly considering not, and having a session from 1pm right into the next day if needs be. Again though, as it's one on one drinking, I can't go off for growl. Or could I? Find out next week.
Happy hunting
Peter
x
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