Friday, January 20, 2012

Simply en fuego


Wow, what a day. I discovered that youtube now allows porn (That links to a story about a British woman with two vaginas, details are shown) I learned how to link to other sites, and my softball team won last night, breaking our 3 month slump. Life is all about momentum so I think we'll be turning it around now.

Speaking of momentum, who knew that so many life lessons could be learned from NBA Jam? The game taught me basically everything I know about basketball. The black guys can dunk, the white guys can shoot and Michael Jordan is an asshole. Oh yeah, and if you make three consecutive shots you catch fire. Of course one doesn't literally burst into flames like a bad Nicolas Cage character, but I believe the fire metaphor for a hot streak is very applicable to countless other aspects of our life.

Life, as you know is all about peaks and valleys, hot and cold runs, it's like an IU basketball game. You can go 3 months without a job interview and then get 4 offers in a week. Or, take for example sexual encounters with the opposite sex. We've all had that brutal several month slump where it feels like the ice age and all vegetation has dried up. Everything you touch turns to dirt and prospects look weak. It's like when your favorite big league slugger goes on a 1-40 dry spell with 20 strikeouts and there appears to be no light at the end of the tunnel.

Alas, there is hope. The slump buster is the rookie just called up from the minor leagues, no confidence and nervous as fuck, he throws you a meat ball and you swagger blast that thing 400 feet...Ok I just got lost in my own metaphor, I think what I was saying is one of your female friends brings her whore 5/10 cousin in from out of town and boom you're back on the saddle again. Sure banging your friend's adopted cousin from Long Beach is the equivalent of a swinging bunt, but you reached base safely and that's all that matters the streak has been snapped.

And then you're feeling fucking good. You have that pep back in your step, you are starting to see colors again, you no longer want to call ex-girlfriends crying in the middle of the night. You're back baby. You remember how to do this shit, just be cocky as fuck and things will work out for you. Fortunately, your friend's cousin was only in town for the night...don't ever have to fucking think about her again. It's Friday night, you go to dinner, you get some drinks, you go to the gentlemen's club where the strippers remind you that you're the fucking man, and then you go out...

Karaoke night at the Gaslight. Santa Monica, blonde recent UCLA grads everywhere. Scratch that, it's rush week and this group of three seniors wanted to go out even though Westwood is completely off limits. After doing 5 or 6 rounds of Alabama Slammers and screaming Roll Tide you take the stage with the hottest one and sing "A Whole New World" and every person in the bar sings along with you because Disney was the shit in 1992 is the fucking shit. Then you take your Jasmine back to 744 Hilgard Avenue and tell her to rub your lamp and be granted 3 wishes.

"He's lighting it up"

After being rescued Saturday morning by your bro on the way to steak n eggs at swingers, it hits you. You're only one more win away from Catching Fire like Katniss Everdeen. With that in mind you head to a combo pool/beach party in Marina Del Ray. The talent level is huge, and the degree of difficulty will be high partially because these girls are out of your league and also because you haven't seen the inside of the gym in 2 months. All these people are more important and wealthier than you. Every time you try to talk to a hot chick some jackass guy enters the conversation and asks some cunty question like "so what do you do?" Fucking brohater.

But then it hits you, no matter the situation you could be outmatched and outclassed but you will always have your secret weapon: Fratitude. You go to the car and grab a wiffle ball bat, you start a flipcup game on a raft in the pool. You teach an old man to beer joust and talk to a group of jappy brunettes about the finer points of handle toss. You have just taken over the party. If there is one inalienable truth it has nothing to do with life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness, it's that people like to have a good time. In the midst of instigating a game of you got served you notice an exotic looking woman giving you eyes from the docks. Doing the only gentlemanly thing possible you bring her a vodka soda and ask her if she would like to see your yacht...BOOM SHAKALAKA!!!

And he's on fire...

Now everything you touch turns to gold, women literally get moist in your presence. You can hit half court shots in pick up games of hoops and you can dunk from the 3 point line...ok so you will probably still not be able to dunk if you are white, but you will have a statistically higher chance of banging any chick you set your mind to. It's a simple case of momentum, attitude, personality. I don't know if it's because guys tend to over-pursue or prematurely close whilst on a cold streak, but when you're hot that shit is just on fucking auto pilot. I'm not claiming to be on a hot streak nor am I claiming that I feel one coming imminently...but any given night could be what starts it all and just in case i sawed off a bat this morning...and there is talk of Vegas for tomorrow, what better place to catch fire.

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