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.
Tuesday, 13 July 2010
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
Monday, 31 May 2010
Growler!
Evening gents.
I've had an interesting week. Firstly, the managing director has been staying in my second bedroom. I thought it was going to be like living with a really awkward new flat mate. Secondly, Wednesday night was the only night I had that I wasn't absolutely off my tits.
Went up to New York last Tuesday on business. Took our client to one of the best restaurants I've ever been to. An amusing anecdote from this? She was talking about how her firm, that's just been taken over by a Swiss firm has changed, and how they now expect the women workers to only travel if their husbands allow (fair point?) This is a fairly awkward conversation with a client. This is a really fucking awkward conversation when you're the only bloke at dinner with 4 women, one of whom is pregnant. This led me to drinking...heavily. After sinking a bottle of red each, we got back to our hotel, where my friend Jaron was waiting for me. Head up to the roof top bar overlooking the empire state building. My two colleagues make there excuses-we had a 6am start to do some interviews, it's 11:30 and I'm not exactly sober. We are on expenses. Gin and tonics? Yes please. There was some decent growl in this place, and I had a hotel room downstairs. Get a phone call off my boss who I've been noshing, telling me to head over to hers, 10 blocks away. A decent option perhaps. This is why drink isn't my friend. In stead of going to bed at 11:30 like I should of, I wondered over to hers (too cheap to take a taxi) for around 12:30, shag her for an hour (LAD), and then have to wake up at 4:30 so that I can get into my hotel, before my colleagues are downstairs in the lobby. Why I didn't tell her to come to mine, I have no clue. Maybe because she makes double my wage, sets me work and is doing my review in 3 months.
I'm so tired and hungover when it comes to the interviews the next day, we are sitting behind one way glass in a darkened room, on really comfortable chairs. The inevitable happened. The guy they bring along to learn about consultancy, take minutes and fetch coffee falls asleep in front of a senior manager, someone 2 levels above him, and a client. Brilliant. I'd do anything for this blog (more on this later). The interviews finish at 7 and I get the train back and get in at 11. Surprisingly, my new room mate isn't in. I hear him stumble in 2 hours later, hammered. 48 year old, Scottish managing director LAD.
Thursday comes, rugby training happens, but gets called off half way through due to the biggest thunderstorm I've ever seen. Chatting to some of the guys, they're all heading out Saturday night after training. Brilliant.
Get back, my new room mate is preparing himself for the night. Really psyching himself up to get pissed. My theory is that he goes on these business trips once every 6 weeks to get hammered away from his wife and kids. What happens next in the evening is odd.
I'm going to get dinner and have a few beers, do you care to join me Peter? I'll expense it out.
Free dinner and beer? Honestly, I can't think of a time I'd say no.
Off we pop down to one of the bars. Over dinner, he tells me a few stories about him getting hammered. He explains that him and his group of friends from Uni, made up of people that are currently presidents of companies, managing directors, head teachers, and small business owners always have a holiday together. A group of 9 of them, not everyone always makes it, but there's always at least 6 that can get away from wives and kids. Last year they went to Octoberfest and drank until they couldn't take it. All the while I'm thinking that when all of us are making £200K+ a year when were all dads we are doing this. 'I'm a 22 year old stuck in a 48 year olds body, Peter'. Aside from this sounding remarkably like a mid life crisis, I respect him so much. He's a chancer, the ultimate 'yes man' who chatted his way to the top. He tells me I need to get stuck into as many American girls as possible whilst I'm here. Yes, I will.
Thursday night is 'cougar night' when all the 35-50 year old divorced rich, fit older women come out. Me and my new best friend are standing there chatting to a couple of them. The one looks me up and down and says 'you're absolutely gorgeous' (cheers boys) I know a great girl for you, let me take your number, and I'll give it to her.
'How about I have your number?'
'My husband's in there'
'But your taking mine!'
'I'll give you a missed call'
Boom. Number time. I bet my managing director he can't get a woman's number. Being the ultimate good looking older bloke, he struts up to one, chats to her, gets out his blackberry. He walks back over, 'she didn't want me to have it'. Unbelievable, I thought he was better than that. We chat to a few more guys around the bar, tell everyone how much better rugby is than football and start chatting to this hippie called Ray. Looks a bit like a rockstar, but obviously poor. Came out with a classic line: 'women and I have a great relationship-I look at them, and they don't look back, it suits me just fine'. Ouch Ray. Ray tells us about the cook up brunch he's having on Sunday and invites to join. My managing driector tells him he's not around. Looks at me, smiles, and says: "but I'm sure Peter would love come" I have no excuses. I take Ray's number, with the intention not to ring him or go. But that wouldn't make a great blog though, would it?
Next bar, he bets me I can't talk to some girls, I do, I crash and burn as I'm 8 pints and 4 gins deep and keep saying 'England' over and over apparently. It's now 2am. He tells me we aren't done, and he knows somewhere we can get a drink. He comes every time he's in town. It's a private members club, and he's paid the $70 lifetime membership fee. It's fucking seedy. We have another pint, and walk home chatting about how great we are, and how he's interviewing over the phone for a new director at 7am.
I feel shit Friday. Really awful. What really brightens up my day is an email I had from my MD at 11:09pm the night before. Nothing in it, apart from a phone number. That cheeky swine, getting his blackberry out to email it to me.. I'm definitely going to be doing this when I'm someone's boss.
It's bank holiday weekend, so we get work lunch out, and the option (if we've finished working) to leave at 3. Service was so bad at lunch, it took 2 hours, and I obviously left at 3:01. Come home and pass out on the couch. Ben (the MD) gets back a couple hours later, complaining of a migraine, and how we'll go out for food and a few drinks, but he'll drive as his family is flying into New York at mid day the next day. Fair enough. We watch the hangover before heading out. I think this gets Ben in the mood. Get into town, and he tests the water with a G and T. So do I. 2 hours later, we're 5 or 6 G and Ts deep. It's 10:30, so Ben says to me he's giving himself a midnight curfew. I tease him about being a shit lad and he can't handle it. It turns out we are very similar. We sink some cocktails and head on. Starting chatting to a woman who's come out with just her son's girlfriend. Weird. And they're rank. Ben turns to me and says 'you could have fun with that one' and winks. By 1:30 he looks at his watch, hammered and says: 'oh fuck I missed my curfew' 'Do you want to go home?' 'No I've just loaded up the jukebox'. We dance to the smiths and some other classics from before I was born until 2.
I have rugby the next day at 11. I get up at 10, find Ben in his pants saying he should have left an hour ago, and the one thing his wife said before he left is that he can't get hammered the night before he picks them up as he has to drive to New York to get them, then drive 5 hours to Washington for the bank holiday. He's absolutely hanging, searching for his car keys. When I left for rugby at 10:40, he was just about ready to walk out the door.
In the 25 degree heat, approaching 100% humidity and with a terrible hangover, Rugby was not fun. It was also one of the hardest training sessions I've been to in a long time. Chatting to a couple of the guys, one guy, Steve, turns out lived near Sydney for a bit, nice guy. Our conversation revolved around Aussie girls. Agree to meet him in the bar in town I'd been at until 2 the previous night at 3 in the afternoon. The barmen were all laughing at me for being back there, but one of them has promised to take me pheasant shooting whilst I'm here, which should be good. Have 6 or so $6 beers and a couple shots over the course of the afternoon. I was dreading my bill as the whiskey we were shotting were $8 each. They serve them in double shots. They were really getting to me. He charged me $21 all together. Unbelievable. I have made it my official watering station. The guy from rugby I met up told me he was going to a bbq then a house party and invited me. I wasn't doing anything else! It's for the blog.
Turn up to this bbq. I felt awkward anyway, not knowing the host and Steve not telling him I'm coming. Add to this that I'm pissed, haven't brought any booze, and start off by chatting to his wife. Bring them round to the idea of me eating their food, and they were very pleasant people. At one point, I got offered a cigar. Looked around, all the other men sitting on the porch were smoking one. I had to. Tried to light it. Realised I hadn't cut the end off. Schoolboy. Start chatting to this guy about shooting, he tells me he owns a shotgun. He runs home across the road to get it. He lets me hold it (not loaded). At this point I realise I'm sitting on a porch in the heat, smoking a cigar, drinking a bud and holding a shotgun. The one moment in my life I can officially call myself 'redneck'. Steve's bird swings by in her truck to take us to this party. Turn up, smashed, around 11pm. Steve's bird leaves. Walk in, there are about 15 people there playing on a swing attached to a tree, playing beer pong and drinking out of red cups from a keg! Steve and I survey the scene. Eye up a couple of good looking girls (7s). I send the accent in. I tell him I want the tall blonde, who looks similar, but perhaps better than my mate Jack's bird-Cuntface. (I honestly do like Cuntface, but have always questioned her opinion on me)
Chat to her for a bit, and get her to be on my side in beer pong. Steve takes the other one on his team. We finish playing and go sit down with them. Turns out my bird isn't drinking! Cock! The one Steve's taken on is now sitting on his knee. It is this moment in time Steve's girlfriend walks in. Amazingly awkward. They break up in front of everyone. This doesn't stop Steve and says to the girl he's got on his knee: 'I'm just going to fuck you in stead' What great balls Steve has. It works, an hour later-around 3am they are in one of the bedrooms fucking. I've been pulling this sober blonde girl. Take her round the back in the garden and starting pulling her more. I consider sticking a digit. I think that she'll never go for it, so decide not to try. Then I also remember I'm Peter Hunter and I have a blog to write. So I stick a finger in her. She doesn't particularly warm to it, but doesn't stop it. She tells me she's driving home, and I ask for a lift. Jackpot. Get back to mine and we're pulling in her car. Obviously ask her 23 times if she wants to come up. I even said: 'come up and I'll growl you out'. What person would say no? Granted, she didn't get it. She apparently has to be up early (so why is she out until 4:30am?) so drives off. I get her number, so will text her in due course. I've decided I'm more about playing a slightly longer game anyway than one nights, although they're great.
Get into my flat, and decide to ring Ray about brunch in the morning. He was happy to hear from me. Tells me the location and says I need to be there at 10. It's about 30 mins away. Encouraged by Ray's desire to speak to me, I also ring the fit older woman, she, unfortunately, doesn't pick up. Probably because she's in bed with her husband. I obviously leave a message. I obviously can't remember it, and I obviously haven't heard a thing yet. I pass out, wake up at 11. 2 missed calls from Ray. I don't ring him back.
As it's bank holiday Sunday, I have to get pissed. All the rugby guys are on a boat trip, so with no one to get drunk with I consider my options-bird from last night? Boss? My own?
I shamelessly go for my boss. She comes over, we have a bottle of wine, some coronas and half a bottle of gin. Head out to the I bar I'd been at all day the day before and drink about $60 worth of booze. Amazingly I get charged $10. Am now the most drunk I've been all week and my boss and I take 1.5 hours to do the 10 minute walk. Have to take breaks to throw up every 20 minutes. Get back and pass out before anything decent happens.
Have spent all of today shagging, but also in a world of pain. I ache from head to toe. I don't think I'll be drinking for a while. At least until I take this girl out for a drink some point this week, probably Thursday, given the volume of older women.
There are 2 things I've learnt from this week:1) when I'm 48, if I can take 22 year olds out on expenses of the company I run, I will be in a good place. 2) Americans are very outgoing and have a 'why not' attitude, this is exactly the attitude I need to adopt to get anything worth writing about on America Bosh.
Happy hunting
Peter.
I've had an interesting week. Firstly, the managing director has been staying in my second bedroom. I thought it was going to be like living with a really awkward new flat mate. Secondly, Wednesday night was the only night I had that I wasn't absolutely off my tits.
Went up to New York last Tuesday on business. Took our client to one of the best restaurants I've ever been to. An amusing anecdote from this? She was talking about how her firm, that's just been taken over by a Swiss firm has changed, and how they now expect the women workers to only travel if their husbands allow (fair point?) This is a fairly awkward conversation with a client. This is a really fucking awkward conversation when you're the only bloke at dinner with 4 women, one of whom is pregnant. This led me to drinking...heavily. After sinking a bottle of red each, we got back to our hotel, where my friend Jaron was waiting for me. Head up to the roof top bar overlooking the empire state building. My two colleagues make there excuses-we had a 6am start to do some interviews, it's 11:30 and I'm not exactly sober. We are on expenses. Gin and tonics? Yes please. There was some decent growl in this place, and I had a hotel room downstairs. Get a phone call off my boss who I've been noshing, telling me to head over to hers, 10 blocks away. A decent option perhaps. This is why drink isn't my friend. In stead of going to bed at 11:30 like I should of, I wondered over to hers (too cheap to take a taxi) for around 12:30, shag her for an hour (LAD), and then have to wake up at 4:30 so that I can get into my hotel, before my colleagues are downstairs in the lobby. Why I didn't tell her to come to mine, I have no clue. Maybe because she makes double my wage, sets me work and is doing my review in 3 months.
I'm so tired and hungover when it comes to the interviews the next day, we are sitting behind one way glass in a darkened room, on really comfortable chairs. The inevitable happened. The guy they bring along to learn about consultancy, take minutes and fetch coffee falls asleep in front of a senior manager, someone 2 levels above him, and a client. Brilliant. I'd do anything for this blog (more on this later). The interviews finish at 7 and I get the train back and get in at 11. Surprisingly, my new room mate isn't in. I hear him stumble in 2 hours later, hammered. 48 year old, Scottish managing director LAD.
Thursday comes, rugby training happens, but gets called off half way through due to the biggest thunderstorm I've ever seen. Chatting to some of the guys, they're all heading out Saturday night after training. Brilliant.
Get back, my new room mate is preparing himself for the night. Really psyching himself up to get pissed. My theory is that he goes on these business trips once every 6 weeks to get hammered away from his wife and kids. What happens next in the evening is odd.
I'm going to get dinner and have a few beers, do you care to join me Peter? I'll expense it out.
Free dinner and beer? Honestly, I can't think of a time I'd say no.
Off we pop down to one of the bars. Over dinner, he tells me a few stories about him getting hammered. He explains that him and his group of friends from Uni, made up of people that are currently presidents of companies, managing directors, head teachers, and small business owners always have a holiday together. A group of 9 of them, not everyone always makes it, but there's always at least 6 that can get away from wives and kids. Last year they went to Octoberfest and drank until they couldn't take it. All the while I'm thinking that when all of us are making £200K+ a year when were all dads we are doing this. 'I'm a 22 year old stuck in a 48 year olds body, Peter'. Aside from this sounding remarkably like a mid life crisis, I respect him so much. He's a chancer, the ultimate 'yes man' who chatted his way to the top. He tells me I need to get stuck into as many American girls as possible whilst I'm here. Yes, I will.
Thursday night is 'cougar night' when all the 35-50 year old divorced rich, fit older women come out. Me and my new best friend are standing there chatting to a couple of them. The one looks me up and down and says 'you're absolutely gorgeous' (cheers boys) I know a great girl for you, let me take your number, and I'll give it to her.
'How about I have your number?'
'My husband's in there'
'But your taking mine!'
'I'll give you a missed call'
Boom. Number time. I bet my managing director he can't get a woman's number. Being the ultimate good looking older bloke, he struts up to one, chats to her, gets out his blackberry. He walks back over, 'she didn't want me to have it'. Unbelievable, I thought he was better than that. We chat to a few more guys around the bar, tell everyone how much better rugby is than football and start chatting to this hippie called Ray. Looks a bit like a rockstar, but obviously poor. Came out with a classic line: 'women and I have a great relationship-I look at them, and they don't look back, it suits me just fine'. Ouch Ray. Ray tells us about the cook up brunch he's having on Sunday and invites to join. My managing driector tells him he's not around. Looks at me, smiles, and says: "but I'm sure Peter would love come" I have no excuses. I take Ray's number, with the intention not to ring him or go. But that wouldn't make a great blog though, would it?
Next bar, he bets me I can't talk to some girls, I do, I crash and burn as I'm 8 pints and 4 gins deep and keep saying 'England' over and over apparently. It's now 2am. He tells me we aren't done, and he knows somewhere we can get a drink. He comes every time he's in town. It's a private members club, and he's paid the $70 lifetime membership fee. It's fucking seedy. We have another pint, and walk home chatting about how great we are, and how he's interviewing over the phone for a new director at 7am.
I feel shit Friday. Really awful. What really brightens up my day is an email I had from my MD at 11:09pm the night before. Nothing in it, apart from a phone number. That cheeky swine, getting his blackberry out to email it to me.. I'm definitely going to be doing this when I'm someone's boss.
It's bank holiday weekend, so we get work lunch out, and the option (if we've finished working) to leave at 3. Service was so bad at lunch, it took 2 hours, and I obviously left at 3:01. Come home and pass out on the couch. Ben (the MD) gets back a couple hours later, complaining of a migraine, and how we'll go out for food and a few drinks, but he'll drive as his family is flying into New York at mid day the next day. Fair enough. We watch the hangover before heading out. I think this gets Ben in the mood. Get into town, and he tests the water with a G and T. So do I. 2 hours later, we're 5 or 6 G and Ts deep. It's 10:30, so Ben says to me he's giving himself a midnight curfew. I tease him about being a shit lad and he can't handle it. It turns out we are very similar. We sink some cocktails and head on. Starting chatting to a woman who's come out with just her son's girlfriend. Weird. And they're rank. Ben turns to me and says 'you could have fun with that one' and winks. By 1:30 he looks at his watch, hammered and says: 'oh fuck I missed my curfew' 'Do you want to go home?' 'No I've just loaded up the jukebox'. We dance to the smiths and some other classics from before I was born until 2.
I have rugby the next day at 11. I get up at 10, find Ben in his pants saying he should have left an hour ago, and the one thing his wife said before he left is that he can't get hammered the night before he picks them up as he has to drive to New York to get them, then drive 5 hours to Washington for the bank holiday. He's absolutely hanging, searching for his car keys. When I left for rugby at 10:40, he was just about ready to walk out the door.
In the 25 degree heat, approaching 100% humidity and with a terrible hangover, Rugby was not fun. It was also one of the hardest training sessions I've been to in a long time. Chatting to a couple of the guys, one guy, Steve, turns out lived near Sydney for a bit, nice guy. Our conversation revolved around Aussie girls. Agree to meet him in the bar in town I'd been at until 2 the previous night at 3 in the afternoon. The barmen were all laughing at me for being back there, but one of them has promised to take me pheasant shooting whilst I'm here, which should be good. Have 6 or so $6 beers and a couple shots over the course of the afternoon. I was dreading my bill as the whiskey we were shotting were $8 each. They serve them in double shots. They were really getting to me. He charged me $21 all together. Unbelievable. I have made it my official watering station. The guy from rugby I met up told me he was going to a bbq then a house party and invited me. I wasn't doing anything else! It's for the blog.
Turn up to this bbq. I felt awkward anyway, not knowing the host and Steve not telling him I'm coming. Add to this that I'm pissed, haven't brought any booze, and start off by chatting to his wife. Bring them round to the idea of me eating their food, and they were very pleasant people. At one point, I got offered a cigar. Looked around, all the other men sitting on the porch were smoking one. I had to. Tried to light it. Realised I hadn't cut the end off. Schoolboy. Start chatting to this guy about shooting, he tells me he owns a shotgun. He runs home across the road to get it. He lets me hold it (not loaded). At this point I realise I'm sitting on a porch in the heat, smoking a cigar, drinking a bud and holding a shotgun. The one moment in my life I can officially call myself 'redneck'. Steve's bird swings by in her truck to take us to this party. Turn up, smashed, around 11pm. Steve's bird leaves. Walk in, there are about 15 people there playing on a swing attached to a tree, playing beer pong and drinking out of red cups from a keg! Steve and I survey the scene. Eye up a couple of good looking girls (7s). I send the accent in. I tell him I want the tall blonde, who looks similar, but perhaps better than my mate Jack's bird-Cuntface. (I honestly do like Cuntface, but have always questioned her opinion on me)
Chat to her for a bit, and get her to be on my side in beer pong. Steve takes the other one on his team. We finish playing and go sit down with them. Turns out my bird isn't drinking! Cock! The one Steve's taken on is now sitting on his knee. It is this moment in time Steve's girlfriend walks in. Amazingly awkward. They break up in front of everyone. This doesn't stop Steve and says to the girl he's got on his knee: 'I'm just going to fuck you in stead' What great balls Steve has. It works, an hour later-around 3am they are in one of the bedrooms fucking. I've been pulling this sober blonde girl. Take her round the back in the garden and starting pulling her more. I consider sticking a digit. I think that she'll never go for it, so decide not to try. Then I also remember I'm Peter Hunter and I have a blog to write. So I stick a finger in her. She doesn't particularly warm to it, but doesn't stop it. She tells me she's driving home, and I ask for a lift. Jackpot. Get back to mine and we're pulling in her car. Obviously ask her 23 times if she wants to come up. I even said: 'come up and I'll growl you out'. What person would say no? Granted, she didn't get it. She apparently has to be up early (so why is she out until 4:30am?) so drives off. I get her number, so will text her in due course. I've decided I'm more about playing a slightly longer game anyway than one nights, although they're great.
Get into my flat, and decide to ring Ray about brunch in the morning. He was happy to hear from me. Tells me the location and says I need to be there at 10. It's about 30 mins away. Encouraged by Ray's desire to speak to me, I also ring the fit older woman, she, unfortunately, doesn't pick up. Probably because she's in bed with her husband. I obviously leave a message. I obviously can't remember it, and I obviously haven't heard a thing yet. I pass out, wake up at 11. 2 missed calls from Ray. I don't ring him back.
As it's bank holiday Sunday, I have to get pissed. All the rugby guys are on a boat trip, so with no one to get drunk with I consider my options-bird from last night? Boss? My own?
I shamelessly go for my boss. She comes over, we have a bottle of wine, some coronas and half a bottle of gin. Head out to the I bar I'd been at all day the day before and drink about $60 worth of booze. Amazingly I get charged $10. Am now the most drunk I've been all week and my boss and I take 1.5 hours to do the 10 minute walk. Have to take breaks to throw up every 20 minutes. Get back and pass out before anything decent happens.
Have spent all of today shagging, but also in a world of pain. I ache from head to toe. I don't think I'll be drinking for a while. At least until I take this girl out for a drink some point this week, probably Thursday, given the volume of older women.
There are 2 things I've learnt from this week:1) when I'm 48, if I can take 22 year olds out on expenses of the company I run, I will be in a good place. 2) Americans are very outgoing and have a 'why not' attitude, this is exactly the attitude I need to adopt to get anything worth writing about on America Bosh.
Happy hunting
Peter.
Monday, 24 May 2010
All aboard!
Evening all.
I had originally planned to start this blog post off with an apology. After my rant at the end of my post about American intelligence, I had a heated email exchange with Robin and I feel he came out on top. American culture is after all unique, and there are some incredibly bright people who I work with. But that was originally, this is now. I've just got back from a pub quiz where 1 out of 7 teams knew the answer to the question: In what country are Melbourne and Darwin state capitals. Seriously.
Anyway, less of that and more of what we want: booze and growling birds out. Both of which I have been rather successful at this week. (I'm always good at boozing, but my growling is sometimes off). Haven't had an update for a week or so, so will start from a week ago.
Last Tuesday, work all day. Am firing a few emails back and forth with these two girls who planned to take me out on Thursday night. Nicely done, trying to get myself some guaranteed nosh in week one. Go to rugby practice on Tuesday night, the team is heading down to South Carolina for the National cup quarter final game. This turns out to be a fairly decent level. One of the guys knows a mate of mine from when I played (semi pro) rugby in Germany. They played together in the teams that lost to France and Fiji in the 2003 world cup. Not bad. Another guy, who looked like he slept in gyms turns to me and goes:
how old are you?
22
You like drinking?
Yes
Good.
He then turns away and walks off happy that I'm into the same things he is, I like this in a rugby club. A couple other guys are talking about how one of them had 2 girls naked in his hot tub and didn't convert. Without really thinking, I turn and say something along the lines of: no wonder with a face like that. An interesting decision on my part. Enjoyed it though. Do the fitness practice and play some touch, before setting off.
Wednesday was a bit more of the same. Email flirting intensified, didn't really get that much done and blamed 'jet lag'. Also one of the senior managers had a go at me for miss spelling the word otolaryngologist. I managed to convince her it was a British spelling. I love this country. People are so trusting, and if you can keep a straight face-something which all the years of lying to a certain someone, has led me to be vaguely good at, you can pretty much get away with anything. After work head over to Walmart to buy myself a mobile phone. Walmart's a funny place. I'm all up for equal opportunities employment, but when the retarded man can't tell you what kind of deal you're getting with a certain phone, and the guy in the wheelchair can't push the trolleys back in place, you wonder whether or not management should make them swap jobs.
People here are a lot more self confident in many regards. At home, you'd never in a million years get a woman ringing a radio station and saying how she was going to 'dump his ass cos he's a cheating son of a bitch, and that if she ever sees that bitch downtown, she knows I'll take her all the way to the cleaners baby. Fuck yeah!' Heard this and thought: you know what Pete, that's blog material.
Thursday comes, the day week one really kicked off for me. Get through the day safe in the knowledge that my welcome drinks were coming at happy hour between 5-7 and everyone from the office was heading down. The head of the office came down and told me she fully expects me to be hungover on the Friday, which was a great weight lifted off my shoulders. (Not really, but it was nice having her approval). It arrives. The 4 days of hard email flirting I'd put in have come down to this. 2 girls staying at my house and out for nothing but getting really pissed. I took a fairly long time to get ready-knowing full well that this will make me miss eating anything substantial. Get to the bar and get my first pint in. Tastes so good. Gradually one by one the managers leave and ends up just me and these two girls. I'm 5 pints and 3 shots deep and am really feeling the full force of not lining my stomach, brilliant, the exact effect I was going for. Move on to gin and tonics. The great thing about drinking here is that because people don't binge drink as often or as much, they put more spirit in glass and less mixer. It therefore tastes exactly how you'd make it if you were making it at home. Strong.
Casually slip into conversation how I was a semi pro rugby player. This goes down a storm, and I really big it up. The one girl with a boyfriend rings him up (as he played rugby at uni) and gets me to leave a message. I obviously shout down the phone how much better I am at him at rugby, and how much better a bloke I am. The one single girl there-Britany, is now fairly pissed. Chatting to her on the street, she tries to kiss me. Jackpot. Turn my head away and say:
sorry I don't really do kissing in public.
So you don't want to kiss me?
I have done this for 2 reasons: 1 I work with her so still want to be able to make the rational choice later on when I'm more drunk, and 2: there is greater chance I'd get to growl her out. Given reason 2 is a reason I did it, it made reason 1 very redundant.
Move on to the next bar and nail a few more gins and shots. Get refused alcohol for being too pissed. Go to the next bar, see they have karaoke. Sign myself up for 'ring of fire' by Jonny Cash. Whilst waiting for my name to be called, we are sitting at the bar having a drink. Look over and one of the girls, Mel, is swaying on her bar stool. Keep watching as think something funny is about to happen. She, still attached to the stool, topples over face first onto the floor. Amazing, really really strong drinking. I try to order her a drink to celebrate such an epic moment in her life, but get told that the bar is closing. I make the point that it's not as I am yet to sing, and question the barmaid on whether it's closing or if she just wants us out because we are causing a scene. She chose option 2. I like honesty.
Start walking home. Both girls are swaying, police walk over. I can't get arrested in my first week. Surely. They ask for our details. Brittany is so drunk she forgets her address. So I step in with the I'm new to the country card and we are on our way home. Takes 1 hour to walk the 10 minute journey back. Mel falls in a bush. I help her out, only to push her back in. Do this twice. She didn't learn. She runs off. Brittany comes over and I kiss her this time. She whispers in my ear: do you want to fuck me on the grass?
Obviously the answer's yes. But we had just been stopped by the police 200 metres up the road, so I say: how about I just fuck you in the house.
Find Mel who'd been hiding behind a car as she was angry about the bush thing. Get into the flat and proceed to have a pea fight with her. She passes out on the couch. Take this opportunity to get Brittany to bed. Growl her hardcore. A long time. I nearly passed out mid growl, but kept it going. I fuck her. Wake up in the morning, and she's very upset as she's never had a one night stand before. I convince her it wasn't as we work together so we have to see each other again. She's pretty hot so would do it again anyway. Mel leaves to go to work so we Brit and I shower together. Fantastic. Try a quick growl before work, but doesn't go down well (gag). Get to work, spend all day hungover. Have a welcome lunch organised which was amazing as it was in a fairly greasy restaurant.
In an interesting development, we have a meeting after lunch where Brittany is told that she will be the one reviewing me, in order to get her line management experience. Amazing, I send her so much chat about reviewing my performance. I've basically started a secret affair with my boss who is 2 promotions and 3 years my senior.
Get an email off her asking if I want to go up to New York on Friday to stay in her flat instead of Saturday. I agree, so travel up together, go out for dinner for sushi, and get some sleep (no growling) before the next days activities.
Wake up in her flat on Saturday morning. Meet all her flat mates, one of which is pretty fit. Head off out the flat and walk 40 blocks to my mate Jaron's. Go for a walk around central park and catch up a bit. Get a hot dog and a pretzel. Head for a bar in union square, but get caught up in some kind of street party, and hang around 'using my accent' to chat to girls. Incredible what being different (in a good way) can do. They just seem so interested. Head to a bar where it seems like they've employed all the out of work supermodels as barstaff. Watch the champions league final with $6 beers. Expensive, especially when you have to tip $1 a drink. Move onto next place where Jaron's mate joins us. Good lad, is in training for 2012 and will be rowing for the USA. He was the main man in the Varsity boat race a couple years ago. He informs us he's massively on it as he has just missed out on the men's 4s world cup squad, so has nothing to do but drink.
By 8 o'clock, I'm feeling it. Jaron has hit on the barman and offered him tickets to the daily show. Got his email address. A little odd, but we go with it. Also got some free pints in the deal, so aren't complaining. Head back to the girl's flat, and meet the rest of her friends-an average looking group of girls with 2 hot ones, and 1 stunner. Get stuck into conversation with the stunner, whilst I sink a bottle of red.
Head out to the boat party we had planned on going to at 10:30. I am so excited about this it's unbelievable. All you can drink, on a boat, sailing around New York. It did not disappoint. The evening was run by fairly pretentious people, but the key difference being, that at home, I wouldn't have a hope in hell with these girls, but here, one of the girls in the queue asked me if I wanted to fuck her on the boat. Yes, yes I did want to. Obviously didn't cos she was all chat. Got stuck in on the boat to a couple gins, and a jack daniels. The bastards only let you get two drinks at a time. All the guys on the boat were typically American Frat guys. One guy really fitted the bill. Started talking to him:
Hi mate, what's your name?
Dan, yours? You from England?
I'm Dan too. Yes I am. Are you a real life Frat guy? I wish I was a frat guy, you're all so bloody frat. FRAT DAN, YEAH BABY.
English Dan. YEAH BABY YEAH!!!
We screamed 'yeah baby' at each other a few more times before I got bored. He never once realised I was taking the piss. Chat to some birds downstairs and pretend to be American when one girl tells me to 'stop putting on that ridiculous accent'. I was so convincing. Back upstairs, see the statue of liberty go by, get so excited I pull my jeans down and get my party pants out. Americans love party pants it turns out. By this point I'm steaming, so pretend to be a pirate. Try to get more booze but get rejected. So try again. And again. Jaron is also having similar difficulties, they tell him that if he asks again, they will dock the boat and kick him off. I don't remember a lot from this point on. I danced, I took the piss, I chatted to some stunning women. Go home with Brit, and stay in the same bed as her for the 3rd night in row. Growl her out. I feel my evaluation will go well, but I'd prefer to nosh more than get a good review.
Wake up in the morning and go to all you can drink Champagne brunch. $12 dollars for the champagne and they litterally top you up after 2 sips. Must have finished off at least 2 bottles in the 3 hours we sat there for. Was hammered. Get another pint in at a bar, then go back to the flat for a nap and some nosh. Get the train back to Princeton and drive home.
Work was interesting today. Didn't do a lot. Got an email from Brittany telling me to check my phone. She had texted me some filth. Sent dirty messages back and forth for the afternoon, whilst doing the work she set me. Get informed by the PA the MD is going to be staying with me in my flat for the week. I'm happy about this because he is a hero. Let me tell you a story about him: Once he was out in Manchester chatting up a girl. She turns to him and says: do you really not know who I am? No, who are you? I'm your son Craig's primary school teacher. LAD.
He takes me out for dinner and a couple pints, chat about usual stuff you chat about with your boss, but he's still a good guy.
I'm off to New York on business tomorrow for the night, and working there all day Wednesday. Will be taking the client out tomorrow night, so I will see what mischief I can cause.
It's been a great week. But I'm only just starting. I am going out for a big night out with my new housemate on Thursday and then again with the rugby guys on Saturday.
My big thought for this week is this: I'm going to quit my job, move to London and run an all you can drink party boat, charging £50 a ticket. Brilliant.
Happy Hunting
Peter.
I had originally planned to start this blog post off with an apology. After my rant at the end of my post about American intelligence, I had a heated email exchange with Robin and I feel he came out on top. American culture is after all unique, and there are some incredibly bright people who I work with. But that was originally, this is now. I've just got back from a pub quiz where 1 out of 7 teams knew the answer to the question: In what country are Melbourne and Darwin state capitals. Seriously.
Anyway, less of that and more of what we want: booze and growling birds out. Both of which I have been rather successful at this week. (I'm always good at boozing, but my growling is sometimes off). Haven't had an update for a week or so, so will start from a week ago.
Last Tuesday, work all day. Am firing a few emails back and forth with these two girls who planned to take me out on Thursday night. Nicely done, trying to get myself some guaranteed nosh in week one. Go to rugby practice on Tuesday night, the team is heading down to South Carolina for the National cup quarter final game. This turns out to be a fairly decent level. One of the guys knows a mate of mine from when I played (semi pro) rugby in Germany. They played together in the teams that lost to France and Fiji in the 2003 world cup. Not bad. Another guy, who looked like he slept in gyms turns to me and goes:
how old are you?
22
You like drinking?
Yes
Good.
He then turns away and walks off happy that I'm into the same things he is, I like this in a rugby club. A couple other guys are talking about how one of them had 2 girls naked in his hot tub and didn't convert. Without really thinking, I turn and say something along the lines of: no wonder with a face like that. An interesting decision on my part. Enjoyed it though. Do the fitness practice and play some touch, before setting off.
Wednesday was a bit more of the same. Email flirting intensified, didn't really get that much done and blamed 'jet lag'. Also one of the senior managers had a go at me for miss spelling the word otolaryngologist. I managed to convince her it was a British spelling. I love this country. People are so trusting, and if you can keep a straight face-something which all the years of lying to a certain someone, has led me to be vaguely good at, you can pretty much get away with anything. After work head over to Walmart to buy myself a mobile phone. Walmart's a funny place. I'm all up for equal opportunities employment, but when the retarded man can't tell you what kind of deal you're getting with a certain phone, and the guy in the wheelchair can't push the trolleys back in place, you wonder whether or not management should make them swap jobs.
People here are a lot more self confident in many regards. At home, you'd never in a million years get a woman ringing a radio station and saying how she was going to 'dump his ass cos he's a cheating son of a bitch, and that if she ever sees that bitch downtown, she knows I'll take her all the way to the cleaners baby. Fuck yeah!' Heard this and thought: you know what Pete, that's blog material.
Thursday comes, the day week one really kicked off for me. Get through the day safe in the knowledge that my welcome drinks were coming at happy hour between 5-7 and everyone from the office was heading down. The head of the office came down and told me she fully expects me to be hungover on the Friday, which was a great weight lifted off my shoulders. (Not really, but it was nice having her approval). It arrives. The 4 days of hard email flirting I'd put in have come down to this. 2 girls staying at my house and out for nothing but getting really pissed. I took a fairly long time to get ready-knowing full well that this will make me miss eating anything substantial. Get to the bar and get my first pint in. Tastes so good. Gradually one by one the managers leave and ends up just me and these two girls. I'm 5 pints and 3 shots deep and am really feeling the full force of not lining my stomach, brilliant, the exact effect I was going for. Move on to gin and tonics. The great thing about drinking here is that because people don't binge drink as often or as much, they put more spirit in glass and less mixer. It therefore tastes exactly how you'd make it if you were making it at home. Strong.
Casually slip into conversation how I was a semi pro rugby player. This goes down a storm, and I really big it up. The one girl with a boyfriend rings him up (as he played rugby at uni) and gets me to leave a message. I obviously shout down the phone how much better I am at him at rugby, and how much better a bloke I am. The one single girl there-Britany, is now fairly pissed. Chatting to her on the street, she tries to kiss me. Jackpot. Turn my head away and say:
sorry I don't really do kissing in public.
So you don't want to kiss me?
I have done this for 2 reasons: 1 I work with her so still want to be able to make the rational choice later on when I'm more drunk, and 2: there is greater chance I'd get to growl her out. Given reason 2 is a reason I did it, it made reason 1 very redundant.
Move on to the next bar and nail a few more gins and shots. Get refused alcohol for being too pissed. Go to the next bar, see they have karaoke. Sign myself up for 'ring of fire' by Jonny Cash. Whilst waiting for my name to be called, we are sitting at the bar having a drink. Look over and one of the girls, Mel, is swaying on her bar stool. Keep watching as think something funny is about to happen. She, still attached to the stool, topples over face first onto the floor. Amazing, really really strong drinking. I try to order her a drink to celebrate such an epic moment in her life, but get told that the bar is closing. I make the point that it's not as I am yet to sing, and question the barmaid on whether it's closing or if she just wants us out because we are causing a scene. She chose option 2. I like honesty.
Start walking home. Both girls are swaying, police walk over. I can't get arrested in my first week. Surely. They ask for our details. Brittany is so drunk she forgets her address. So I step in with the I'm new to the country card and we are on our way home. Takes 1 hour to walk the 10 minute journey back. Mel falls in a bush. I help her out, only to push her back in. Do this twice. She didn't learn. She runs off. Brittany comes over and I kiss her this time. She whispers in my ear: do you want to fuck me on the grass?
Obviously the answer's yes. But we had just been stopped by the police 200 metres up the road, so I say: how about I just fuck you in the house.
Find Mel who'd been hiding behind a car as she was angry about the bush thing. Get into the flat and proceed to have a pea fight with her. She passes out on the couch. Take this opportunity to get Brittany to bed. Growl her hardcore. A long time. I nearly passed out mid growl, but kept it going. I fuck her. Wake up in the morning, and she's very upset as she's never had a one night stand before. I convince her it wasn't as we work together so we have to see each other again. She's pretty hot so would do it again anyway. Mel leaves to go to work so we Brit and I shower together. Fantastic. Try a quick growl before work, but doesn't go down well (gag). Get to work, spend all day hungover. Have a welcome lunch organised which was amazing as it was in a fairly greasy restaurant.
In an interesting development, we have a meeting after lunch where Brittany is told that she will be the one reviewing me, in order to get her line management experience. Amazing, I send her so much chat about reviewing my performance. I've basically started a secret affair with my boss who is 2 promotions and 3 years my senior.
Get an email off her asking if I want to go up to New York on Friday to stay in her flat instead of Saturday. I agree, so travel up together, go out for dinner for sushi, and get some sleep (no growling) before the next days activities.
Wake up in her flat on Saturday morning. Meet all her flat mates, one of which is pretty fit. Head off out the flat and walk 40 blocks to my mate Jaron's. Go for a walk around central park and catch up a bit. Get a hot dog and a pretzel. Head for a bar in union square, but get caught up in some kind of street party, and hang around 'using my accent' to chat to girls. Incredible what being different (in a good way) can do. They just seem so interested. Head to a bar where it seems like they've employed all the out of work supermodels as barstaff. Watch the champions league final with $6 beers. Expensive, especially when you have to tip $1 a drink. Move onto next place where Jaron's mate joins us. Good lad, is in training for 2012 and will be rowing for the USA. He was the main man in the Varsity boat race a couple years ago. He informs us he's massively on it as he has just missed out on the men's 4s world cup squad, so has nothing to do but drink.
By 8 o'clock, I'm feeling it. Jaron has hit on the barman and offered him tickets to the daily show. Got his email address. A little odd, but we go with it. Also got some free pints in the deal, so aren't complaining. Head back to the girl's flat, and meet the rest of her friends-an average looking group of girls with 2 hot ones, and 1 stunner. Get stuck into conversation with the stunner, whilst I sink a bottle of red.
Head out to the boat party we had planned on going to at 10:30. I am so excited about this it's unbelievable. All you can drink, on a boat, sailing around New York. It did not disappoint. The evening was run by fairly pretentious people, but the key difference being, that at home, I wouldn't have a hope in hell with these girls, but here, one of the girls in the queue asked me if I wanted to fuck her on the boat. Yes, yes I did want to. Obviously didn't cos she was all chat. Got stuck in on the boat to a couple gins, and a jack daniels. The bastards only let you get two drinks at a time. All the guys on the boat were typically American Frat guys. One guy really fitted the bill. Started talking to him:
Hi mate, what's your name?
Dan, yours? You from England?
I'm Dan too. Yes I am. Are you a real life Frat guy? I wish I was a frat guy, you're all so bloody frat. FRAT DAN, YEAH BABY.
English Dan. YEAH BABY YEAH!!!
We screamed 'yeah baby' at each other a few more times before I got bored. He never once realised I was taking the piss. Chat to some birds downstairs and pretend to be American when one girl tells me to 'stop putting on that ridiculous accent'. I was so convincing. Back upstairs, see the statue of liberty go by, get so excited I pull my jeans down and get my party pants out. Americans love party pants it turns out. By this point I'm steaming, so pretend to be a pirate. Try to get more booze but get rejected. So try again. And again. Jaron is also having similar difficulties, they tell him that if he asks again, they will dock the boat and kick him off. I don't remember a lot from this point on. I danced, I took the piss, I chatted to some stunning women. Go home with Brit, and stay in the same bed as her for the 3rd night in row. Growl her out. I feel my evaluation will go well, but I'd prefer to nosh more than get a good review.
Wake up in the morning and go to all you can drink Champagne brunch. $12 dollars for the champagne and they litterally top you up after 2 sips. Must have finished off at least 2 bottles in the 3 hours we sat there for. Was hammered. Get another pint in at a bar, then go back to the flat for a nap and some nosh. Get the train back to Princeton and drive home.
Work was interesting today. Didn't do a lot. Got an email from Brittany telling me to check my phone. She had texted me some filth. Sent dirty messages back and forth for the afternoon, whilst doing the work she set me. Get informed by the PA the MD is going to be staying with me in my flat for the week. I'm happy about this because he is a hero. Let me tell you a story about him: Once he was out in Manchester chatting up a girl. She turns to him and says: do you really not know who I am? No, who are you? I'm your son Craig's primary school teacher. LAD.
He takes me out for dinner and a couple pints, chat about usual stuff you chat about with your boss, but he's still a good guy.
I'm off to New York on business tomorrow for the night, and working there all day Wednesday. Will be taking the client out tomorrow night, so I will see what mischief I can cause.
It's been a great week. But I'm only just starting. I am going out for a big night out with my new housemate on Thursday and then again with the rugby guys on Saturday.
My big thought for this week is this: I'm going to quit my job, move to London and run an all you can drink party boat, charging £50 a ticket. Brilliant.
Happy Hunting
Peter.
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