Posted November 24th, 2008
by hsb10
I’m at the laundromat folding my freshly cleaned underwear when Mike, a waiter I know from a local restaurant, walks in dragging a laminated paper bag of dirty clothes behind him. He doesn’t notice me as he starts stuffing his white shirts, black pants, server aprons, and civilian wear into the cavernous mouth of one of the extra large machines. As I stack my boxer briefs into neat little piles, I watch Mike pour in detergent, select the “HOT WASH” option, and start dropping five dollars worth of quarters into the coin slot. When the twentieth quarter registers, the machine’s motor springs to life with a fluidic whoosh and the waiter’s clothes transform into an agitated soup of cotton and suds. I guess Mike’s never heard of washing whites and colors separately. Oh well.
“Hey Mike,” I call out. “How ya doing?”
“Hey Steve,” Mike says. “Sorry, I didn’t see you there.”
“That’s okay. How are things at the restaurant?”
“Ugh,” Mike says. “Things suck.”
“That bad?”
“Monday though Friday we get a third of the covers we used to get.”
I let out a low whistle. “That is bad. How are the weekends?”
“We get the usual Saturday crowd,” Mike says. “But they’re eating and drinking cheap.”
“Is the tipping percentage down?”
“You get the occasional jerk who thinks he’s recession proofing himself by tipping eight percent,” Mike says. “But most people still hover in the fifteen to twenty percent range.”
“It’s just that twenty percent of a fifty dollar check is not as good as twenty percent of a hundred dollar check.”
“Exactly.”
“During the downturn in 2000,” I say, “Some of my regular customers just disappeared. People I was friendly with. Never saw them again.”
“Probably embarrassed they couldn’t afford to spend as much as they used to,” Mike replies.
“You’re probably right,” I say. “I wouldn’t’ve minded if they ate pasta instead of steak. At least they’d still be in my place spending money. I guess some people are all about appearances.”
“Talking about that,” Mike says. “You know the rich yuppie mommies who go out to lunch around here? The ones who go shopping all day while their Wall Street husbands earn all the money?”
“I remember the type.”
“I haven’t seen any of them at my restaurant in months.”
“Maybe their Wall Street husbands got laid off and they’re tightening their belts,” I suggest.
“I think it’s worse than that,” Mike says.
“How so?”
“Did you know that thirty-four homes in this town went into foreclosure last month?” Mike asks.
“Holy shit,’ I reply. “That many?”
“And not just crappy houses either,” Mike says. “But showpieces that cost eight hundred grand a year ago.”
“So you think the yuppie moms lost their homes?’
“Makes sense,” Mike says. “A lot of these people were overextended and borrowed against the value their homes to maintain their lifestyles. When you combine dropping home values, the stock market tanking, and the husbands getting laid off, they probably got wiped out.”
“Wow,” I say. “That’s brutal.”
“Screw ‘em,” Mike says, waving his hand dismissively. “Assholes like that thought the party would never end. Maybe some of those yuppie fuckers will be waiting tables alongside me soon.”
There was a time when I would’ve commiserated with Mike in his schadenfreude but not today. Too many friends and family have told me horror stories about massacred retirement accounts, dwindling 401Ks, job anxiety, postponed dreams, and being maimed by the grinding struggle to make ends meet. They’re all good, hardworking people. I suspect the vast majority of the “yuppie fuckers” Mike’s referring to are good people as well. But I was a waiter once. I remember watching my cash flow dry up and sweating the rent. And even though it’s not in anyone’s best economic interest to feel this way, when you’re broke and bitter, misery loves company.
“Anyway,” Mike says. “You should be grateful you’re out of the biz. There’s never been a worse time to be a waiter.”
“How are you managing?” I ask.
“I used to make my nut working four nights a week,” Mike says. “Now I don’t make that working five doubles.”
“Double shifts, man,” I say, shaking my head. “They’re murder.”
“Now my girlfriend and I are having problems because I’m never home,’ Mike says. “The shit never ends.”
‘I’m sorry to hear that.’
“So how you doing?” Mike asks. “How’s the book?”
“The book’s doing well,” I reply. “Now I’m writing another one.”
“About what?”
“Tipping thought the service industry,” I say. “Waiters, bellhops, skycaps, barbers, strippers – stuff like that.”
“Cool,” Mike says. “And you and your girlfriend? Still going strong?”
“Actually we broke up last month,” I say.
“Oh shit,” Mike says. “I’m sorry.”
“That’s okay. She’s a great woman. It just wasn’t working out between us.”
“Still.”
“Sometimes the bitter comes with the sweet.”
“Like the economy being in the toilet,” Mike says. “But gas getting cheaper.”
I pause for a moment to gather my thoughts. “I wouldn’t put it that way,” I say. “But sort of.”
“Did you see the gas stations down the street?” Mike says, looking like he desperately wants to change the subject. “They’re in a pricing war. One guy’s selling gas for a buck-seventy-nine a gallon.”
“Those guys have been slugging it out for weeks,” I say, giving Mike his out. “I think they have the lowest prices in the state.”
“They’re causing traffic jams,” Mike says. “It’s crazy.”
Mike and I talk about superfluous stuff for a few more minutes while I finish folding my laundry. When I’m done I pack my clean clothes into my own laminated paper bag, wish Mike luck, and drag my laundry out to my car. The moment I get behind the steering wheel another car pulls up like an automotive vulture, ready to prey on my spot. Parking is tight this time of day and I’d do the same thing if the situation was reversed, but somehow this driver’s annoying me. For some reason I can’t explain, I don’t want to be rushed. I roll down my window and wave car onward. The car’s horn beeps angrily in response. My frustration tolerance has been low this past month so I’m surprised I resist flipping the driver the bird. After thirty seconds the driver of the car gets the hint and pulls past me. I get a glimpse of his face, He’s one of those red face choleric types who look like they’re a temper tantrum away from a brain aneurysm. Just great. I’ve deposited my bad energy into another person. Maybe it’s that misery loves company things again.
I lean back in the driver’s seat. I am well and truly pissed off. What’s worse, I don’t know why. Maybe it’s the breakup. Maybe it’s the economy. Maybe I got up on the wrong side of bed. I take a deep breath and start going through my own little anger management routine. It doesn’t involve mantras or visualizations of beachfront property. I get a handle on my emotions by observing what’s going on around me. Getting absorbed in small details usually soothes my nerves and gives me the emotional headspace to start working out a solution.
As I concentrate on the stone wall fronting the courtyard of the church I’m parked next to, I spy a squirrel munching on an acorn. He’s all plump and ready for winter. Probably has secret caches of nut protein stashed all over town. Maybe he’s hidden some of his loot in the front yard of my house. Maybe he’s buried acorns in front lawns of all the foreclosed homes in town. That’d be ironic.
But that squirrel’s started something stirring inside my brain. That something spins around my mind, churning the memories, images, cognitions, and sensations that make up who I am like the agitator blade inside a washing machine. On a preconscious level I realize that I need to be saving something for a rainy day. I need to start squirreling that something away. And that something’s not money or nuts. But what is it?
Just wait for it, I tell myself. The answer will come. Then, just when I feel the truth bubbling to the surface like a long forgotten name or fact, a blaring car horn shocks my ears and rudely shoves the answer back down into the depths.
“Are you leaving?” a whiny female yells from inside her car. “I wanna park there if you’re leaving. You’re gonna leave right?”
“The spot’s all yours,” I reply, “I was just leaving.”
“Thanks mister.”
I turn the ignition key and power up the engine. As I start to pull away form the curb I look at the grey rodent perched on the stone wall. He’s too busy adding that last layer of fat before winter’s chill to even notice me.
“Brother,” I say to the squirrel. “You probably know something I don’t.”
I drive away and the lady swings into my parking spot. Oddly enough, I’m not stressed anymore. That something rattling around my brain will emerge later. I’ll have my answer. And probably when I least expect it.
Posted in Other Ranters, Rants
Posted November 24th, 2008
by hsb10
I wrote an article for the Guardian.co.uk about where waiters like to eat in New York City. I’d be interested to hear other NYC servers’ opinions and suggestions about restaurant and bars that I might have overlooked. Many thanks to the “waiter mafia” who let me tap their knowledge and considerable expertise for this article. Enjoy!
Posted in Other Ranters, Rants
Posted November 24th, 2008
by hsb10
I’m lying on my couch watching This Gun for Hire, a film noir classic from 1942 starring Alan Ladd and Veronica Lake. I made myself linguine in white clam sauce earlier for dinner and chased it down with two glasses of Sauvignon Blanc. Now, as my stomach noisily digests the mash of pasta, clams, and white wine, my eyelids start feeling heavy. My joint custody dog Buster whimpers softly as he sleeps near my feet. Probably chasing a squirrel though canine dreamland. I look at my watch. It’s almost eleven o’clock on a Friday night. What an exciting life I lead.
As the black and white images on the television screen tell the story of a killer’s brutality and eventual salvation, I think about other movies I’ve seen with similar themes. Whether its James Cagney’s tough guy in Angels with Dirty Faces or Luc Besson’s illiterate hitman, Leon, in The Professional, I’ve always enjoyed stories about people who redeem their lives at the last moment through acts of truly selfless heroism. Maybe that storyline appeals to my hardwired Catholic sensibilities. Anyone can be saved, everything will be all right in the end. That’d be nice.
Suddenly my roommate shouts from inside his bedroom, “FREE PORN!”
“What?” I say, rousing myself from my sleepy theological reverie. “What did you say?”
“Come in here!” my roommate shouts. “Before it goes away!”
Much to Buster’s annoyance, I toss aside my blanket, get off the couch, and walk into my roommate’s bedroom. When I look at the LCD television on top of his dresser, my eyeballs are immediately greeted by the sight of two shapely, naked, and big breasted women doing intimate things to each other. Well, they’re almost naked. But somehow I don’t think thigh high leather boots counts as clothing
“Wow,” I say, involuntarily. Impressive breasts always make me say “wow.” I think that’s hardwired into my system too. The nuns of my youth would whip me with their rosary beads if they could see me now.
“I told you someone was watching porn over at the cable company,” my roommate says. “Now do you believe me?”
“How do you know that a person’s watching it?” I reply. “Maybe it’s just a glitch in the system.”
“Keep watching,” my roommate says. “You’ll see.”
My roommate and I continue watching the “actresses” as they grind against one another with practiced enthusiasm. The moaning and groaning coming out of the television speakers, however, sounds like someone in the throes of demonic possession instead of orgasmic rapture. Then, without warning, the film fast forwards to a part in the scene where the actress are, ah, a little more exposed.
“”Holy shit!” I exclaim. “Somebody’s watching porn at the cable company.”
“They’re probably jerking off right now,” my roommate says.
”Probably.”
“We should call the cable company and complain.”
“Nah,” I reply. “I’m not going to get some guy in trouble just because he wants to rub one out at work.”
“How do you know it’s a guy?” my roommate asks. “Its two lesbians having sex. It could be a woman watching.”
“Only a guy would be stupid enough to watch porn and jerk off at work.”
“True,” my roommate mutters. “True.”
Buster decides to make an appearance. He walks into my roommate’s bedroom, looks at the television for a full 30 seconds, and then walks out – unimpressed.
“Buster doesn’t like porn?” my roommate asks.
“Why watch porn when he can see the real thing?” I reply.
My roommate laughs. “I’ve seen what happens when you try kicking him out of your room. He goes nuts.”
“Oh my God,” I say, shaking my head. “The whining and scratching at the door got so distracting that I finally had to start letting him in the room.”
“Doesn’t he bother you?”
“He usually hides under the bed or falls asleep on the easy chair in my bedroom. Occasionally, however, he tries joining in.”
“A threesome?” my roommate asks, grinning.
“Nothing like being in the throes of passion and having a hairy dog trying to lick your ass,” I reply.
“Oh no!”
“What can I say? Sometimes dogs just wanna have fun.”
“What do you do when Buster does that?”
“I toss him back under the bed saying ‘The woman is mine!’ He usually gets the hint.”
“That’s so weird.”
“Trust me,” I say. “Most couples that have dogs encounter this problem.”
“How about cats?”
“They just sit on the headboard and watch. Very creepy.”
“I’m never getting pets,” my roommate says. “Never.’
Suddenly the video fast forwards again. Now a man and woman are on the screen. Dissatisfied, the viewer at the cable company fast forwards past the obligatory “dialogue” until he gets to the part where the “action” starts.
“So why do you get free porn on your TV and I don’t?” I ask.
“Because the digital signal going to the plasma in the living room gets filtered by the cable box,” my tech savvy roomie replies. “My digital television’s hooked up directly to a coaxial cable so there no way to block the signal.”
“The TV in my room’s hooked up directly to cable,” I say. “Why don’t I get dirty movies?”
“Because the TV in your bedroom’s not digital. It’s analog. You won’t get the signal.”
“So the only way anyone can see free porn is if their hi-def television get its signal directly from a coaxial able and not the cable box?”
“Exactly.”
“How many people hook up their expensive hi-def televisions to coaxial cables and bypass the cable box?” I ask.
“Almost no one,” my roommate replies. “By using the coaxial you don’t get all the channels you’re paying for and the hi-def signal’s not as good.”
“Looks like our porn loving friend at the cable company found a loophole in the system,” I say.
“That makes sense,” my roommate says. “He can watch his porn in the control room and almost no one will notice.”
“Except us.”
“These cable people are idiots anyway,” my roommate says. “A couple of months ago a mother ordered a Disney pay per view movie for her kids and got porn instead.”
“Sound like someone mixed up Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs for Snow White and the Seven Whores,” I reply dryly.
“Huh?”
My roommate’s from a far away country, I explain to him that many porn movies take their titles from established Hollywood films.
‘Little Oral Annie?” my roommate exclaims. “That’s disgusting,”
‘You should see what they did with Forrest Gump,” I reply.
“I don’t want to know.”
As I watch the man and woman frenetically humping each other on my roommate’s television screen, I chuckle to myself. Come to think of it, there are probably porn equivalents of The Professional and Angels with Dirty Faces too. I wonder what the San Fernando Valley would do to This Gun for Hire? Hmmmm.
“Oh well” I say, “That’s enough fun for me. I’m going to finish watching my movie.”
“You’d rather watch that old stuff than this?”
“My movies have better dialogue,” I reply. “Besides, life’s too short for bad porn.”
“You’re right,” my roommate says. “Goodnight.”
I flop back down on the couch and finish watching a young Alan Ladd trade shots with an impossibly young Robert Preston. When the movie ends I floss and brush my teeth, check the locks on the doors, and go to bed. My dog burrows under the covers and takes up station near my feet – but otherwise my bed is empty. No “real thing” for Buster to watch tonight. As I drift off to sleep, images of Veronica Lake and the two lesbians in thigh high boots compete for space on the back of my eyelids.
What an exciting life I lead.
Posted in Other Ranters, Rants
Posted November 24th, 2008
by hsb10
Today is Election Day.
Vote. I don’t care who you vote for. Just vote.
Americans have suffered lynching and torture so we can vote. Americans have faced down fire hoses and dogs, been bombed, murdered, and maimed so we can vote. Americans have labored in unpaid obscurity and have been ridiculed and ostracized so we can vote. Americans have gone to prison so we could vote. Americans have had their reputations ruined so we could vote. American servicemen and women have returned home with grievous wounds and psychological scars so we can vote. Americans have fought and died so we can vote.
It doesn’t matter if the lines at the voting booth are long or we think we don’t have enough time to cast a ballot. We have time. Countless unsung heroes made the time for us.
Vote.
Posted in Other Ranters, Rants
Posted November 24th, 2008
by hsb10
I love reading Facebook status messages. Status messages and drunk photos of fat bitches thinking that they are sexy are the only things that keeps me on there for entertainment purposes only… Seeing emo messages such as:
XX¹ is thinkin “are there actually any decent blokes?”
Well the answer to that question is not that there aren’t any - but you being a dumb bitch and choosing the wrong ones. Until your little shallow brain realises that you deserve better and get some self respect you will carry on attracting assholes who treat you like shit and use you. Dumb whore…
XY² has just broken a FUKING nail!!
Yes because I GIVE A FUCK how?! Boo hoo - want a Kleenex? 
XX is what every man dreams of…. and every girl’s nightmare !!!!!!
Actually there is nothing I can comment about this status message. This chick has more bollocks (in a sexy very feminine kind of way) than some blokes I know!
XX is still loving d sun and cocktails on holiday
Bitch is on holiday and decides to log onto Facebook to let everyone know that her fried fanny is “loving d sun and cocktails”. I’m sure she is loving the COCKtails. And notice the “d”, bitch had time to login onto the net from some remote location where monkeys deliver telegrams and couldn’t even be bothered to write a complete three letter word!! Maybe the cock in her mouth distracted her…
XX is gonna av a nite out wit the girl’s, wahoo xXx.
Wahoo for all of you, you drunk whores. Drunk bitches are worse than fucking rats. You can set your shit on fire because they’ll still come and chew on it. And what’s more these walking distilleries are going out during a weekday with having to go to work tomorrow…. *Sigh*
XX is not feelin too great about things..
Yeah blah blah… Typical emo message which translates to “I need some attention because I’m an attention whore, so give me some!”.
Fuck… Where’s CatMan when you need him to slash some pussy to shreds… 
¹Females sex chromosome (XX)
²Males sex chromosomes (XY)
Posted in Other Ranters, Rants
Posted November 24th, 2008
by hsb10
Pisses me off that these days everyone gets a medal for doing something pointless or which they were MEANT to be doing in the first place as part of their job!
For example, Prince Harry went to receive his campaign medal for his services in Afghanistan. Eh??? Pardon moi? Receive a medal because he stayed in Afghanistan for a month under very secure protection because let’s not forget he is royal after all - and he receives a medal? What the fuck did he do? Did he go into a cave and save fellow soldiers from insurgents? Did he risk his life to protect someone else? No, so why the fuck is he getting a medal?
Just another one of those let’s blow steam up your ass and help you be even more full of yourself kind of British things. Which reminds me, even the fucking Rugby team when they won the world cup a couple of years ago they went to get some medals from the queen. The same for the gold medal winners of the Olympic rowing team. Some of them even got knighted. WTF? They did what they were supposed to do?!
Is just bullshit handing out shit like that to everyone who has done something ordinary - “Oh here you go, have a medal for having a bakery and serving hungry people at lunch times”. Nice one FELLA, 
Posted in Other Ranters, Rants
Posted November 24th, 2008
by hsb10
What can I say… I had nothing to bitch about for the last couple of months… Or shall I say nothing that pissed me off so much that it would make me bitch. 
Here are some of news that caught my attention:
Man stabbed to death in Oxford Street was on bail for horrific acid gang rape
First of all - GOOD. That piece of shit scum bag used caustic soda over her body to get rid of any DNA evidence. Thank fuck that piece of shit was taken care of. Furthermore he was also involved in a gang stabbing as well. How ironic… 
A-grade schoolgirl, 16, runs off with 46-year-old grandfather, as mother pleads for her to return
Well… The bitch needs a reality check and her ass kicked all the way back to the womb she came out of. Fucking kids these days not thinking shit getting high on all of that cannabis giving them brain damage. If she was my kid I would’ve hoped the police got to her before I did because I would’ve killed that gizz bag of granpa and beat the shit out of her all the way back home
Retired dentist and wife ‘in suicide pact’ because they feared being moved into separate care homes
Who the fuck comes up with these rules. Actually, I would like to meet the dumb fucks who are in charge that make all of these decisions. Fucking no moral thinking, no common sense. It seems as though it is all processed by a computer that lacks emotions.
Posted in Other Ranters, Rants
Posted November 24th, 2008
by hsb10
Image © www.foulmouthshirts.com
According to a British daily newspaper the Daily Mail is saying that police officers are having difficulties in fighting crime… Well fuck me, I think it is time to call on Capitan Obvious here. Let’s look at the problem a little closer shall we?
- Police raid house of a 12 year old kid and arrest him because he was in a scuffle at school.
- Police arrest innocent people who defend their own home when fuckwit burglars strike because the burglar COMPLAINED that he/she was injured!
- Police officers spend too much doing shitty not-so-important paper work that keeps them inside rather than outside. GET THE FUCK OUTSIDE and gain trust from the public!
- Police officers’ son throws football into neighbours garden for the gazillionth time. Neighbour keeps football until kid apologizes. Officer dad calls officer friends to go around neighbours house and arrest him for theft. Nice one going there officer SHITFACE
- TWO police vans and another car (in total 6 officers) are required for a fight in a nightclub between two faggots. Shit, 6 police officers WTF is this a shootout? Machetes were pulled out? People became butchers or something? WAY OTT!
I could go on, but it doesn’t surprise me that people don’t give a fuck about police these days and what disappoints me is how scared the public is of squeaky-voiced 13 year olds with hoodies acting hard because they smoke fags stolen from their mums handbag. I mean I am a nice guy and all but if some shit heads started shit and DARED to attack the almighty ePlus all shit would brake loose, you will see me on all of the news station around the word "NIGGA KILLED 10 WHITEBOYS IN FREAK ACCIDENT!" fucking damn right it was a freak accident because I go shit crazy. Crazy MOFO with a twitch to the left in his neck that makes people think I have epilepsy fits.
I believe in good old fashioned laws and rules. Just watch Dirty Harry and you will understand what I mean. No more of that fucking about pussy officers being scared to put a pansy on the ground because he might injure him and then get sued for brutality shit. So fucking lame these days as there is a law for everything. You scratch your ass and BAM you broke the law - You are not allowed to scratch your ass because people might smell the shit when you split your ass cheeks apart - I mean come on, give me a fucking break. WTF.
But you see, this is the society that we all live in, everyone is scared to say what they think incase they might be racist or offend someone. Is so fucked up is unbelievable. If I was to time travel back to the Before the 1980s anywhere, even the 15th century I’ll be happy. Especially in those days people knew what respect and loyalty was. Someone pisses you off or does something you take the law into your own hands. Better yet the Wild Wild West for me thank you…
Posted in Other Ranters, Rants
Posted November 24th, 2008
by hsb10
Hi5… I don’t even know why I am bothering to write about this, it is bad enough I get shitty requests installing various lame applications on Facebook such as “What Condom Are You?”, “You have a Your Sex IQ? invitation” and other brain cell killing applications. Just FUCK OFF!
What pisses me off with these dumbass applications is that when you load up that girl that you are always gizzing when you see her and you want to check out those photos of her posing drunk last weekend hugging a toilet, you have to wait half an hour for her profile page to load up because the dumb slut has so many applications installed it slows down your browser to a crawl, slower than a fucking snail going uphill on prozac! And you are trying to close that window, swearing and cursing wishing it would hurry the fuck up…
As if you wanted in the first place to see how many hugs she has received or what flavour condom she is. WHO GIVES A FUCK?! Fuck - it just pisses me off that majority (99.9%)of people on Facebook have the IQ of hamster…
Back to Hi5, well what can I say about this. Facebook and MySpace are for Americans, UK and other more upmarket countries with less slutty users and Hi5, Bebo and other half as good social websites are practically bride.ru. You go there see which chick tickles your tastes and you say three intelligent words to her and BAM - she’s yours.
I just got a link to a profile page of a chick on Hi5. Well what can you expect. Is like a market on there, which one can sell herself better and be more explicit but too explicit to get her pictures deleted.
I saw photos…. Fuck it, I’ll share some with you along with a small description of what I think that is happening in the photo:
She is either Spider-Woman hanging clothes around the room or maybe a she is cleaning that spider web in the corner of the room… I just don’t understand these back shots….
“I’ll suck your dick and give you some pussy if you let me drive your car and take me for a spin?!”
I don’t see no Twister in this photo - so I don’t know what the fuck is going on here… CONFUSED… Silly slutz
“Yes I like having blokes seeing me only as an sex object and not treating me with respect, it really does make my pussy wet!” - Fucking so disappointed to see dumb women who do this shit, very sad and disappointing to see them sell themselves like this…
Yep…. Unless you’re a photo model put those stockings away, but unless you are looking for some rich fuck from the same area to take you out for a spin, buy you clothes and food add some MORE!
I don’t even know what to say any more… Two more, my favourites!
The originality in this one is priceless! The girl had in the description “This is what he will get if he cheats on me” - all I can say is that she’s a crazy bitch, but PRICELESS photo! LOVE IT! LOL
“Look mum! Do you think guys will be nice to me and show me respect and actually listen to what I have to say rather than go straight for my panties?”
Just to clarify all of these photos were found at random on Hi5.com. All of the photos are taken from profiles of chicks in my city back in Romania where I am from all aged 19-20. It is pretty sad to see girls that some people grew up with, some of them probably went to church doing shit like this. It just goes to show that women are pretty stupid that they will do anything to get attention and someone with money.
Women when they want someone they look for status and wealth. It doesn’t matter if you say the funniest jokes or have the biggest dick in the room if you haven’t got status or wealth is a more uphill struggle for you! Of course you can trick them…. 
Posted in Other Ranters, Rants
Posted November 24th, 2008
by hsb10
I have just seen a short documentary on “the hidden world of the pick-up artist or “PUA”, a community of men who’ve developed a sequence of tricks, codes and routines that they claim any man can use to seduce any woman.”
Now, it was interesting nevertheless, I actually recommend further reading on this for the guys out there who maybe haven’t tapped some ass yet, or maybe you had but the chick looked like Chewbacca. I personally don’t agree with guys using techniques, mind tricks etc to getting a girl into bed and dispose of her. That in my opinion is bad ethics of the whole dating/sex/women department, but that’s my opinion… At the end of the day, the blunt truth is that women are stupid, if you know what to say, how to say and when to say it, then that’s it, you’re sorted. But majority (90%) of guys don’t do these things right so therefore women have lowered their intelligence in this area and also it has weakened their shield. (NOTE: 70% of seducing a woman is from body language, not from what comes out of your mouth) Which brings me on to the next thing…
The guys mentioned in the documentary, who were Pick-Up-Artists, Masters, all that shit, bells and whistles, they didn’t have a good, or if any relationship with their mothers. When a kid as he is growing up is deprived of a good healthy relationship with his mum, then no wonder later on life he goes on a rampage, sleeping with countless girls, disposing of them like chocolate wrappers - because they do not know how to appreciate a women and how to care for one as they haven’t been taught nor have seen in their life. These of course are my speculations based of what I read in between the lines from the documentary, maybe someone else can draw up other conclusions and theories…
And in turn girls who get burned by these guys, they fucking bring up this bitch shield the size of the Great Wall of China that average dorky John Doe can’t even climb it using an elevator! For me as long as you know how to treat a woman, understanding her needs and knowing to do the right thing at the right time, it is all more than enough.
Don’t forget that good guys always win! 
Posted in Other Ranters, Rants
