i definatly agree with not being able to change anyone, but i personally dont think that people will change at all they are who they are, if u bug them enough they might change for a while but it will always go back to the way they were before

Ill take the girl for you torque :P

California is a bit far from Calgary. But you're more than welcome to try. LOL.

I met this really smokin' girl at the grocery store, and we went out last night... it was a great time. We went to this nice little Italian place I know of, then back to her place, drank some wine... and then... well... I only got two hours of sleep, let me put it that way. ;)

haha james you pimp. this is def. sticky worthy

Niceeeee. The ole' grocery store pick up. Haha, you motor-boating son-of-a-*****!

ahahha

hahha NIIIIICE.

Man, if you want to meet a girl who isn't retarded (figuratively speaking), the grocery store is one of the best places.

People are different when they're at the bar as opposed to any other situation.

Someone make this thread a sticky....
 

I'm going to start posting some of the stories I've written about situations I've been in.


=====
Deception in the Bust Department

I've discovered a new little invention that I DO NOT like... the water bra. I hate those goddamn things. Men don't put cucumbers in their pants to make their genitalia look bigger, why do women make their boobs look bigger with these stupid things?

However, wouldn't it be nice to strike back for once? Let's get rid of this trickery. And I did exactly that.

It was Friday, a mild winter evening, unusual for our general climate. It was expecting to have my hair ice over before the gel set, but fortunately I was wrong. Ren and I walk in, and without delay part ways. Standard issue for the way we work, got to work your game on your own, and bring the riches back to the camp.

First step, get something to drink. I haven't touched alcohol in two weeks, work has been pissing me off to no end, and it’s time to get a slight bit drunk. I order my standard issue drink of Red Bull & Vodka, and make the rounds. This is going to be some night.

I meander throughout the bar aimlessly for a bit, and realize something... it's 9:30 PM... the bar isn't really filled with anyone yet. This, to some extent, disappoints me until I realize something; less people means less of a wait at the bar. Why not be constructive with this advantageous window that I've bestowed upon myself?

Drink after drink, the bar ultimately began filling up. Well, about ******* time, I've been sitting here like a lush drinking by myself (I am unaware of Ren's location) for ... ****, an hour already? I stand up, and instantaneously realize that I am a little more than drunk... I am ******-in-half drunk. ****-housed. The tell-tale indication is that I almost immediately lose my stability, and grasp onto the bar for support.

I re-compose myself, and begin glancing around. I see a table with a bunch of empty seats and purses, and one gorgeous girl. It's got to suck being the girl who watches everyone else's stuff while they go and hooch themselves out to people. This is also an excellent 'in' for me, because she's not pre-occupied with anything or anyone around here. She's just sitting there, looking around, waiting for her turn. If that's not an invite, I don't know what is.

Walking over, I innocuously scan her for any signs of attachment, namely rings with big fat diamonds on them. Nothing. Perfect.

I walk over casually, and introduce myself, and ask why she’s all by herself, although obviously knowing the answer. She answers that her friends are dancing and she’s being the good friend and watching their stuff. We continue making conversation, and I remark that there are "five unoccupied seats, and one purse for each seat. What, does your boyfriend carry a purse too?" She laughs, and says that she broke up with her boyfriend two months ago. Score.

Her name is Jessica. We get on the subject of occupation. She’s a student. This immediately tips me off that she’s right in my age range. I tell her I’m a DaimlerChrysler representative (making her think I’m some corporate head, instead of the lowly salesperson I was at the time). Conversation continues, and I can tell, without a doubt, she is into me. And I’m pretty into her, too. Hot face, a rack I’d like to suffocate in, naturally beautiful body, not too much make-up or other fake stuff. What else can a guy ask for?

We get a couple drinks, and continue talking. Her friends return, and one offers to stay with the purses so she can go dance. She takes me with her. Realize that I’m still, as the medical term would have it, ******-in-half drunk. And did I mention that I’m an excellent dancer when I’m not sober? We were on the floor for about 15 minutes, when she says she has to use the washroom. Good, I want another drink anyway.

She goes to the washroom, and I grab another drink. She comes back, and I was smart enough to not only remember to get one for her, but remember what kind of drink she prefers. She was impressed.

It is at this point that I realize that this girl cannot handle her alcohol as well as I can. She’s already approaching my level of intoxication. She’s a little incoherent, euphoric, and keeps rubbing my inner leg. We quickly find a booth in the far corner of the bar.

It is dark. We kiss. We kiss again. Minutes pass, and we are eating the faces off each other at this point. I was making out with this girl who I had never met before in the corner of a bar. This night may prove to be a good night, if I can keep from screwing it up. We start caressing each other. No one pays attention to us. Excellent.

I put my hand up her shirt, and immediately raised my eyebrow; a water-bra insert. This irritates me. I cannot stand these things, if false advertising is illegal, why aren’t these? Failing any sort of thought process preceding my impending actions, I pulled it out of her bra. She didn’t notice. She was THAT into me.

So now she had one big and one little . I can’t help but chuckle when I think about it.

We stopped, and she said "Let's get some drinks". I was down with that, you cannot ask me if I want a drink and expect a negative answer unless I’m driving, or at work. While we were walking to the bar, I realized I still had the insert in my hand.

She gets some girly drink thing, and I get a beer. I noticed that the area that I put my drink on the bar was made of wood. I remembered when I was a kid; I ruined a coffee table finish by putting a glass of water with a wet base on the table, because I didn’t use a coaster. Suddenly genius strikes me. I put the insert on the bar, and put my beer on top of it, in the name of ‘saving the finish of the bar surface’.

She doesn’t immediately notice. And then, as the realization sets in, her face turns red. Before she can say anything, I ask "Uh, did you know one of your boobs is bigger than the other?" The bartender is observing this scene, and he begins laughing uncontrollably when he sees what my beer is sitting on. She grabs the insert, almost knocking over my beer, and runs into the women’s washroom to fix herself. I shrug, drink my beer, and head off to find Ren.

Needless to say, we didn't continue our activities in the corner of the bar. I had a sure-fire winner if I didn’t mess it up. Eh, can’t win ‘em all.

I saw her a week or two later, with smaller breasts than I remember them. Guess she got the tip-off.

damn, might have to use some of your techniques next time I go out. I do see how they work... Dating Guru! :drunksing

that story ******* rawks

lmao

:lolsign:

Hahahah.... Amazing. False advertising does suck ***.

I destroyed my cousin's dream of having my sloppy seconds.

---
December 24, 2004
It's official, I'm a bad man and I'm going straight to hell.
I was at my cousin's place for Christmas eve, just hanging out with my cousins and shooting the breeze. Your typical Xmas eve gathering, booze, snack foods, television... the true spirit of Christmas.

The doorbell rings, and I figure it's just more family, so being a lazy ***, I figure I'll let someone who actually lives in the house answer the door, despite being the closest in proximity to it. Everyone looks at me like I'm retarded. I am too pre-occupied with the ripple chips and onion dip to care.

The door opens, and this girl, Erika, walks in.

Now, a little background on this girl. Back in late July/early August, Erika was my sport-**** (see the movie Fight Club for this term's origin). I had no real feelings for her, except that she was sorta hot, and could probably ride like a champ. She could, so I was happy. This went on for about three weeks, when suddenly, I got bored. During this three week period, Erika had gotten the odd notion, through no efforts of my own I might add, that we were an item. I quickly dismissed that idea with "When were you planning on telling ME that we were going out?" Girls don't like to hear that. So strike one, I sport-****** a naive retard, I am a bad man.

This infuriated Erika to the point that I found out I had just saved myself from a world of ****, but opened up another. Erika has as much baggage as a Boeing 747, and it began to rear its ugly head. At this point, she got her cheating ex-boyfriend, Dan, to start harassing me online. Then I ran into the guy at PartSource. He's shorter than Danny Divito and probably has a hard time benchpressing a box of cotton swabs. I had a hard time not laughing in his face when I saw him. He continued harassing me over the course of the weeks that followed. I finally grabbed him by his neck and told him to lay off. Erika and him got back together for a couple weeks before she finally had enough and dumped his ***. He's a doormat wimp.

Fast forward to Christmas Eve. Erika walks in, takes one look at me, and with a look of horror on her face, she says "What is HE doing here?" I turn around in disgust, and say "I'm here with my FAMILY, who invited you?" My cousin Donald walks over and says "How do you know James?" Erika replies that she'll tell him later, and they proceed upstairs to Donald's room. They have just reached the top of the stairs when I burst out in hysterical laughter, and ask if that's Donald's girlfriend. It is. I laugh harder. Minutes pass, when Erika and Donald come downstairs, and Erika leaves IMMEDIATELY. Donald will not look or make eye contact with me when speaking to me. In fact, he won't speak to me period. He goes back upstairs, and I lose myself in a fit of laughter again. His sister/my cousin Tiffany asks what's so funny. I told her she doesn't want to know. She kept digging, so finally I told her she'll regret it, then announced that Donald was dating my sport-**** from summer 2004. She said 'ew' a couple of times and plugged her ears. I warned her, right?

Even on Christmas Day, I went to shake Donald's hand and wish him a Merry Christmas, he hung his head low and muttered 'Merry Christmas, James' like he had just found out he was impotent. So strike three, I indirectly destroyed a relationship in my family on Christmas Eve. I am a bad man, and I am going directly to hell.