- Don’t wear your letterman jacket to your reunion. It doesn’t fit anymore and you will look about as cool as that high school wrestler who wore it to the college bars after losing in the state finals.
- People look a lot different. 20 years of food, drink, and bad life choices will drastically change relatively innocent people into middle-age adults with real problems. For some reason, their smile and laugh allow you to see through the baggage taking you back to a happier time where the most important thing in your life was keeping the French-roll in your pants tight.
- Leave your W2 at home. No one cares.
- You will not recognize half the people. They don’t recognize you either.
- Remember that quiet girl who was like Laney Boggs from She’s All That before she took her glasses off and became smoking hot? Well she took her glasses off somewhere between the ages of 20-28. Don’t start creeping on her now; you missed the low tick on that one.
- Someone at the reunion still lives in a rocket ship bed in their parents’ basement. You do not. Next time you’re thinking about hooking up the hose to the exhaust pipe in the garage, remember this guy.
- People will bring spouses. The tagalong feels as awkward at this event as you did through your four years of high school. Go talk to them; they are probably more interesting than the people who graduated in your class.
- There will be at least one totally bald dude. He was also the same guy who was shaving in seventh grade.
- You learn that everyone, from the science club kids, to the tight-end on the football team, to the potheads sparking up behind the field house, to the honor roll dorks, to Magic card playing weirdos, to marching band members, to the Marlon Brando looking guy who drove a Triumph motorcycle, all hated high school as much as you did. Take solace in this.
- Don’t try to get your comeuppance by laying out the guy that picked on you a generation ago. He really did turn into a nice guy and was about to apologize for ruining you during high school. Instead, you punch him in the head before he can make peace. It turns out he is a regional champion MMA fighter and puts you into a hammerlock. You end up facing assault charges while going to the hospital handcuffed to the gurney. History doesn’t change and neither do you.
- You will have at least two conversations with people who have no clue who you are. They are trying to make friends to get ahead of the 30-year reunion or back fill some void from high school. After seven “So how are you’s?”, it is time to move on to a person that you actually talked to in high school.
- If a girl offers you a ride home at the end of the night, take it. Unlike high school where you had to wait until prom before you rounded second base. You might actually get some action within the hour.
- Gone are the one-upmanship games and shot-for-shot contests at the bar you experienced at the 10-year. Most everyone has matured to the point where they really care about you and your life. Pre-conceived judgments are passed over and real conversations happen. Social cliques are disregarded and people are treated as equals. That said, there will still be some toolbox who talks all night how he gave the keys of his leased Aston Martin to the valet and got the spot in front of the restaurant.
Today’s man is not broken, just misguided. Here are the problems and the solutions.
When our dads’ got dressed for work, they would throw on a pair of Levi’s, roll a pack of cigs in their tattered T-shirt, and use a rock to comb their hair. Today’s guys are getting their pants hemmed, eye brows plucked, and a gynecomastia to achieve that Brad Pitt/David Bowie lovechild look. Now more women complain that they are the ones waiting for their husband while he applies his Grecian Formula followed by lint rolling his clothes for date night. Since men are pushing the envelope of becoming a eunuch, they might as well fire up a collar roll http://oxfordclothbuttondown.com/2013/07/collar-roll/ and kill any chance of a reviving the masculine movement.
Tattoos used to be reserved for bikers to pay homage to their mother. These All-American bad-asses shanked a guy or two and earned the right to go under the needle. Now every kid under 30 has to ink up for every “challenge” they overcame–graduating from high school, getting dumped by an ugly person, or winning a fantasy soccer league. Neil Armstrong doesn’t have a solar system stamped on his forehead. Dr. George Papanicolau didn’t sleeve up his arm with cervices after inventing the pap smear. This means you can’t ink a hamburger to your stomach, because you got food poisoning, along with the squirts, after a bad meal at White Castle. The Aztecs tattooed everyone, but they also believed in human sacrifice. I will start your Go Fund Me page for a hot tube time machine so you and your Wonder Woman tattoo can experienced how a real man lived—and died.
No One Respects Crappy Cars
When you put on your Gucci T-shirt, chino pants and boat shoes to head to Starbucks for your decaf vente latte orange twist in the morning, don’t forget your key fob for that environmentally sensitive, solar-panel-on-the-roof, Prius. Think of the image you are sending to today’s boys. Your dad didn’t raise you to be a punching bag to the world, so start acting like a man.
Get a muscle car with a bored out V8, aftermarket headers, and an open exhaust to let everyone know that you’re fine with ten miles to the gallon as long as you look cool doing it. Put on some GNR or 2 Live Crew and head to the corner bar for a Budweiser with a Morgan back. Congrats, you just had your breakfast. Beethoven didn’t drive a Prius and he cranked out his Ninth Symphony after he was completely deaf. Life is tough. Get tougher. Drive something that is way cooler than you.
Initiating a courtship has devolved to swiping right on your phone while simultaneously bookmarking Redtube videos to build up your spank bank. Here’s a novel approach: Leave your parents’ basement, approach a real girl and say “Hi, you have a nice smile, I’d like to take you out for a drink. I’ll even go Dutch.” Trust me. It works, not every time, but enough to make it worth the failures. Besides, it gives you an excuse to get out of your whack den and try to interact with someone other than your mom and dad. When you find a girl to go out with, don’t talk about your Magic tournament, recite a text conversation with one of your other basement-dweller friends, or stare at her chest with undisguised focus. Just ask her how her day went, maintain eye contact, and after two hours of her talking, say “I had a great time.” As long as you keep your mouth shut, you may lose your virginity by the time you are thirty.
Becoming a real man is not an overnight transformation. It will take years to undo all the damage you have done to yourself and mankind. Next time you wake up, try to emulate one aspect of a vain-less, unmarked, Challenger driving, testosterone driven male and push the edge a little further to becoming a better man.
Special thanks to D.M. for this article suggestion.
You think you have dated enough girls that you’re finally ready to settle down? Keep telling yourself that player. In reality, you discovered the one girl in the world who will put up with your poor oral hygiene, your asinine eye cream usage, and your lack of eye contact when in a deep conversation. You better lock her down before she learns that you were dumpster-diving for dinner only months prior to meeting her.
The key to any marriage is a good foundation—and that foundation is the ring. She is only going to flash it around the week of her engagement and maybe a couple of times on her wedding day. After that, no one cares. Like all big bang moments in life, this one is fleeting too. Read this guide and save some money on the most superfluous thing you will buy in your life.
Learning Jeweler Speak
Jewelers throw an alliterative assembly of terms at you to exhibit their purported expertise in diamonds. “Clarity”, “Cut”, “Color”, “Carat weight”, and “Certification”. As you walk out of the store, your bank account is thirty grand lighter and the rock falls through the hole in the pocket of your Venture clearance jeans. Nice move Farley.
Throw all that jeweler advice aside and just listen to my friend, Clyde (short for Clydesdale), “buy the biggest thing you can afford—she’ll love it.”
- There are inclusions that only a loupe can see? Who cares.
- The diamond is so yellow that people think it is a sapphire? Let them think that.
- The stone was cut by a guy at his first day of jewelry school? It is unique.
All those things are inconsequential.
All that matters is size. Clyde is right. Listen to Clyde.
Hit Up Your Friends
Half of all marriages end in divorce. That means there are an inordinate number of engagement rings thrown across the bedroom when the wife finds out that her husband blew the emergency fund at the OTB. Your cash will be welcomed to cover the divorce expense. By offering 15% of the wholesale cost, you will be paying more than what any jeweler would pay them. Your bride might make a comment her ring looks just like her recently separated friend, but your pocket book will thank you.
Diamonds truly are ‘Forever’.
Who Says You Need A Real Blood Diamond?
“I have one word for you: Moissanite.” A 2-carat real diamond will cost you $20,000; that is the price of a nice mobile home. The same size Moissanite stone will cost $600; that is the monthly car payment on your Porsche SUV parked outside of your nice mobile home. Since Moissanite is manmade, it doesn’t have inclusions, discolorations or other imperfections. Once again, man one-upped nature at a fraction of the cost.
Choose Your Fiancé’s Occupation Carefully
I always wanted to marry a machinist. They can’t wear rings at work, so the only way the can show their true devotion to you is with a tattoo. For $50, you can put your mark on your spouse in a way that no metal ring can. They can’t lose it. They don’t have to clean it. Insurance is not required. Who says “Love costs a thing”?
The Unhappy Ending
The advice in this column is all for naught. Sometime in between your 5th and 15th year of marriage, she will ask for an upgrade. It doesn’t matter how big the original ring is or how much it cost; it will need to be bigger. Please re-read this guide at that time.
Skiing in Jeans just hit its 2-year anniversary. Show your thanks by forwarding this to a friend and asking them to subscribe.
High school is traumatizing. Since you’re going to be there for four years, you might as well run with the popular kids, get all the ladies and dominate your school.
Master these steps and become the Dylan McKay of this century:
- There will always be one dominate sport within your school’s athletic program. Find the captain of that team and cold cock him. That’s right lay him out like Sly vs the Russian in Rocky IV. Since high school runs on a primal hierarchy, by taking out the alpha male of the tribe, you will become the lead silverback without hours of practice or needless competitions in some school sponsored sport. Congrats, you just reached “lone-star, big dog, king of the mountain, ally ally oxen free” status of the jocks.
- Dating in high school is a hot bed of juiced up hormones coupled with a general lack of self-esteem. You should be hitting on the hottest girl in school. “But I don’t have a chance,” you say. Listen here pimply-faced young Jedi. Since your peers lack confidence, no one would ever consider asking out the hottest person in school. The real hot people are faced with what they consider rejection. They believe they are ugly and therefore willing to date someone like you. This is where you strike like Sammy Sosa’s corked bat. Play off these insecurities and land yourself an authentic ‘10’.
- Dating Part II: By dating a hot girl who doesn’t run with the popular crowd, you will elevate her social standing to “popular”. You will also give her a greater chance of dropping out of high school, landing a starring role on “I am a Teen Mom”, or enjoying high school so much that she becomes a guidance counselor preaching to every freshman, “these are the best four years of your life.”
- Everyone wants to turn 16 so they can drive all their friends home. You are not a chauffeur. If they need a ride, they can take the yellow limo. Pick up a two-wheel suicide machine. Chicks will dig you because their daddy will tell them, “You can’t ride on Billy’s crotch rocket. You also can’t ride on the back of his motorcycle.”
- Have a party. We’re not talking about three of your loser friends hanging out in the basement playing spin the bottle. Bring in a pro. Go a major university, not the local JUCO, and recruit a member of a fraternity that recently got booted off campus for partying. Give him five hundred bucks, a stack of Hawaiian shirts, and ten cases of Mad Dog. The next time your parents go away for a weekend, he will have the entire school at your house chanting, “[your name] is the greatest” while that jock you knocked out earlier in the semester is one of bearers of your palanquin.
- Compromise your integrity. Winning the title of prom king, pulling off the best senior prank, and dating three girls trilaterally is a feat only achievable by forgoing your true self. Transform into something you’re not and take down anyone who stands in your way. You’re trying to be Nada Surf Popular, and if that means means rigging the ballot box, throwing a buddy under the bus, or becoming a psychopath to make your lies flow smoothly, you will be head of the class.
If all of this advice fails you and you’re stuck in the role of average schmo, just transfer to new school and try again.
*Special thanks to Humphery Humberto for his contributions to this article.
It is fun to eat. People like to sport a six pack on the beach too. You can’t pound down a Chili’s Old Timer Hamburger with loaded potato skins and a half-a-dozen Classic Margaritas and expect to flex on all the honeys poolside the next day. The world doesn’t work that way. Here are some popular, and wrong, ways to reach your weight loss goals and the not as popular, and proper, Skiing In Jeans way:
- Weight Watchers-If you like eating and math, this is your diet. Everything you eat has a point vaue assigned to it. Cheese stick-8 points. Slice of cake-10 points. That is your breakfast and you’re already over your point allowance for the next two days.
- Vegan Diet (AKA: the ‘Tofu and Salad Diet’ or ‘Reverse Paleo Diet’)- Nothing says tasty like sucking down your fourth cheese-free salad of the day washed down with a Double Super Big Gulp of Coke. Apparently, overdosing on sugar is OK for your body because it doesn’t harm Porky Pig.
- Atkins Diet-“Eat meat, not bread.” When this diet started waning in popularity, CrossFit lunkheads rebranded this as the Paleo Diet and cattle prices reached an all-time high.
- Tapeworm Diet-During the Roaring 1920’s, tapeworm pills were marketed as an easy way to shed pounds without diet or exercise. Eat a tapeworm. Once you lose the weight, pass the tapeworm. Given all the other idiotic diets on this list, you know this one is due for a revival.
- 8 Minute Abs-If it really took 8 minutes to look like David Beckham before he joined the Spice Girls, everyone would look like the Eloi from The Time Machine (the 1960 version).
- Thighmaster- When used with a Shake Weight, the results are extremely negligible.
- CrossFit-Lift weights like you’re a NFL Lineman, but without the million dollar paycheck. When you’re 40 and the cartilage in your joints has eroded away to the point where you need a motorized scooter to get around your house, don’t say I didn’t warn you when you.
- Any DVD Exercise Program-this includes Sweating to the Oldies, Tae Bo, Jane Fonda, and P90X. If you’re too lazy to drive over to the gym or run around the block a dozen times, there is no way you are working out in the living room while a TV yells at you.
The Skiing In Jeans Health Plan
Reduce the amount of food you eat. I don’t care if it is corn or candy corn; just eat less food. If you are eating ten pounds of McDonald’s a day, cut back to eight pounds. It is that simple.
Increase your activity level. By “activity”, or “exercise”, I mean anything other than sleeping or sitting. Walk, make out with your girlfriend, or pogo stick over to the redlight district. Just get moving. No one expects you to play in the NHL or run the 100 yard dash in the Olympics, just do something that makes you break a sweat.
Here is a simple pocket guide that you can print out and carry with you. Please send me $19.95/month until you reach your target weight.
As an added bonus this month to all my loyal Skiing In Jeans subscribers, please check your real mailbox for a special gift.
The stalwarts of alcohol have failed the United States of America. The nation’s drinkers no longer reach for Bud Heavy, Coors, or our south of the border friend, Corona. The masses have turned to micro and nano beers such as Fred, Donkey Punch, or Blithering Idiot to raise their BAC and lower their inhibitions. These new beers, known as craft, or “hey mom, look what I just made in the bathtub,” are spreading across our country like measles in both the pre and post vaccination era. After careful research consisting of two Google searches and overhearing the endless conversations of guys talking mindlessly about waiting in line for fourteen hours for a two pack of craft beer, Skiinginjeans will show you how you can be a true player in the craft beer scene.
Being a brew master is more than just making a sub-average beer. It is about projecting an image as a brew master to your legion of devoted followers. These worshipers will not look to a deity with a custom suit, a MBA from Wharton, or a jaw line so square that Office of Weights and Measures will use it as the mold for T-squares. Hide your country club membership card and put your Tesla in storage. Your disciples demand a heavily bearded, overweight, flannel-wearing dude complete with one of those gas station mesh trucker hats. You must guide your people to a place where homemade beer, no matter how awful, doesn’t seem as commercialized you’re trying to make it.
Beer is beer. Some of it is dark and some of it is light, When your mom catches you puking in her bushes after a late night at McGillicutty’s, you can be rest assured that the beer did its job. It really doesn’t matter what you bottle, just shoot for an alcohol by volume level of at least 10%. Even though you are dealing self-proclaimed beer experts who liken their ability to the best sommeliers, they just want value for their money. After a long night of drinking your heavily fermented, $8/can concoction, if they find themselves waking up next to a hipster chick who has not shaved her armpits since the Clinton administration, you did your job.
When to Sell Out
There is a very good chance you will go out of business before every netting dollar one. Your product is like a viral meme; once everyone has seen it, no one cares for a second look. In the slightest chance, a buyer does approach you and you do sell your brewery, make sure you include your used bathtub and strainer—that is where the real value in your company lies. When you finally address your finicky customers to tell them that you sold your company, you are never to say, “I sold this company.” Words like these will only turn off your beatnik zealots because you traded in years of wasted time for a handful of Lincolns and maybe a couple of Hamiltons. Tell your followers that you have turned over a new leaf in your business and by partnering with a major brewery, you can seek out new adventures by moving to Colorado and opening a legalize drug operation. They will respect your devotion to a new cause that, unbeknownst to them, is on pace to have a larger market than beer.
If you want to see what the craft beer industry will look like in twenty years, look at the current value of baseball cards from the 1990’s. They are worthless. This craft beer fad is on par with Ty Warner’s Beanie Babies (Warner is currently on probation for tax evasion), Hyper-Color shirts (Generra, the company that produced the shirts, went bankrupt in 1992), and Ralph Macchio (no commentary needed).
With 2015 starting up, it is time to pull out that list of 2014 New Year’s resolutions. You casually cross out “2014” and change it to “2015”. If you’re like most overweight Americans, you have “Get in shape” or “Lose XX pounds” on this list. Instead of writing some vague statement like “I’m going to be less of a fat ass than last year” or “On Sundays, I will take the stairs instead of the elevator” on your 2015 resolution sheet, why don’t you write something quantifiable like “I’m going to run a 5K in less than 25 minutes.”
Here are some pointers for running your first 5k:
1) When you sign up for your race, you will get a T-shirt with the name and date of the race on it. You wouldn’t wear a “Boy George 2015 Revival Tour” shirt to The Brass Rail bar in Fort Wayne, Indiana to watch the has been singer belt out “Karma Chameleon”. Don’t turn your first 5K into amateur hour by sporting the crisp, new race day shirt of the race you’re in.
2) Never run the entire 5K distance in training. Marathon training rules apply here. Let’s face it, a 5K is your marathon; this is probably the most physical activity you’ve had since you ran the mile in seventh grade gym class. Keep it simple; one mile here, two miles there. There is no need to pull a hammy a couple of weeks prior to your big Chariots of Fire moment.
3) If the race you’re in is big enough, you will be assigned a starting corral. Since you have no race history, you will be assigned the last corral. Everyone has to start somewhere, but when you start the winner of the race will be crossing the finish line at the same time. Your corral will be behind the people with walkers and dudes almost as lame as you. Pay no attention to your assignment. Get to the front of the race, and come out guns blazing. There is a chance that you will be the race leader for the first fifty feet before some Kenyan blows past you.
4) Carb loading is not just for marathoners. The night before the race, go out and eat. Don’t limit yourself to carbs. Eat everything you can get your hands on. No french fry is too small, no beer has too much gluten, just eat and drink. When you’re running almost four miles (I rounded for your ego boost) the following day you’ll be grateful you have the internal fuel to carry you through.
5) Water stations. Seriously? Do you pause your Growing Pains collector DVDs so you can rehydrate while watching Carol learn about the dangers of drinking and driving? You’re not doing the Bad Water Ultramarathon, you’re doing a warm up run disguised as a race.
6) The last thing you need to go with your sore quads and strained calf muscles are bloody nipples. Marathon guys are always chaffing and bleeding in weird places. Don’t take chances. Get some lube and apply it liberally like Burt Reynolds in Striptease.
7) Babies poop themselves and so do winners. If you’re struggling at mile 1, the last thing you should do is take a break to relieve yourself. Face facts: If you sit down to poop, you may never get up and finish the race.
8) Stretching is for people who do yoga. Don’t confuse your body with poses and saying “namaste”. Any time you waste stretching, is time you are not running.
9) This is the point when most running literature says you should consult a doctor before training. I know a guy who use to be a doctor (that’s a nice way of saying “lost his license without admitting guilt”); he said that running through the pain is the best way to be a winner. Ignore those shin splints, cramps, heart palpitations, and asthma attacks.
10) If you get lapped by the 10K leader on your 5K run, just pull off to the side and cheer on the real athletes.
I wish I could go back to the simpler time when men considered a scotch a better way to start your morning routine than slapping on a pair of spandex and running four miles only to end up at the same place they started. Breakfast did not consist of a low-carb meal, chugging twelve ounces of pure, organic coconut juice out of a biodegradable bottle, and laboriously recording all the ultra-healthy food inhaled into a Weight Watchers notebook.
Take me back to an era when a rusty nail was an acceptable toothpick and spittoons lined the walls of every restaurant and bar. Smoking was encouraged. Society didn’t worry about dying from lung cancer, because there was a better chance that the runs would kill you long before the black lung did.
Going to bed was the simple action of collapsing on any flat surface that had a low probability of a subsequent bear attack. There were no alarm clocks commanding when it was time to wake, and pajamas were something that wouldn’t be invented for a hundred years. Night creams for wrinkles were something only Vanderbilt, Rockefeller, and Carnegie bothered with using.
Let me help you get back to that era with this guide on how to reduce complexity in your life by cutting down your morning routine to the essentials. Dump your shower bag out on the counter and we will go through it item by item.
The Morning Routine Checklist
Deodorant- Matthew McConaughey doesn’t wear it, neither should you.
Showering-Showering only once a week is satisfactory; any more than that is just a waste of time. Most people of the world bath in rivers and they smell good enough. Remember, there is a cure for cholera.
Aftershave- If you’re afraid to light up a cigarette after applying, you’ve overdone it.
Hair Gel- Since you are not a founding member of Guns N’ Roses, your hair should sport a respectable high and tight haircut that doesn’t require industrial grade petroleum jelly to retain its shape.
Manscaping – Hey Mr. Miyagi, no trimming the bonsai tree. Let your forest grow.
Shaving-Unless you’re a government worker, sport it like homeless guy, or at a minimum, like Joaquin Phoenix when he went crazy.
Shower sandals- Since every other clean freak in the gym is wearing them, don’t worry about warts, MRSA, and other viruses that supposedly live in shower stalls. You have indirect protection. Barefoot it like a firewalker.
Luffa – If I need to google it to spell it correctly, you don’t need it. The same goes for wash clothes.
Eye cream – I know a guy who had a $4,000 a year eye cream habit. Don’t be that guy.
Toothpaste – When Congress passed the Safe Drinking Water Act in 1974, fluoride was injected into our public water. Brushing your teeth became as essential as a trophy case at Wrigley Field.
Taking these simple steps to make your morning routine quicker and will ensure you get more dates, a better job, a nicer car, and a second home. Next time you see a Bath and Body Works, keep walking. Yeah, you’re welcome; your life just got better.
You had the perfect relationship. It was you and your soulmate against the world. One day things changed. He dumped you. You were blindsided. You attempted to reconcile, but you knew it was final the day you saw the sign “Welcome to Dumpsville. Population: You” taped to your car window. Yes, you were officially canned. Keep reading to find out how you can recover from your failure and come back bigger and stronger like Tiger Woods after he was caught with his hand in a Perkins waitress. Apparently, Swedish supermodels just can’t serve up two eggs over easy like the pros.
As much as you would like to say to yourself that it wasn’t your fault you got dumped, look at that facts: You lost at the game of love. Final score: Your Ex-1, You -0. That’s cool. You don’t see A-Rod crying in his steroids because he was booted out of baseball. He is elbow deep in hookers living in a multi-million dollar condo in NY. Feel bad for him? Didn’t think so.
How to respond to being dumped:
1) Stop being a pathetic, emotional basketcase. No one wants to hear you whine about how your life is over, how you will never do better than your ex, how you didn’t see the break up coming, or how you invested so much time in the relationship. That is loser talk. From this point, you are to tell people the following when discussing your ex.
- “He is a bum. I only dated him because I felt sorry for him because he still thinks Pearl Jam will return to mainstream one day.” Make it clear to everyone that you ran the relationship from start to finish.
- “I dumped her.” You are never to admit you were fired out of your relationship. Winners fire people. Losers get busted for drag racing rented Lamborghinis in Miami because they know their career is falling apart faster than Deutsche Mark in the Weimar Republic. Everything that ends, always ends badly, so you might as well tell people you ended it on your terms.
- “Yeah, we dated for ‘X’ years, but I was seeing other people on the side.” You are a wild mustang tearing up the free range of the Wild West. No one can hold you down. Even if the two of you spent your weekends cuddled around a space heater watching your VHS of The Notebook until you wore out the tape, you don’t need to share that with anyone now. Tell people that you are the Sal Paradise of your generation and respect will rain upon you.
2) Maybe you got dumped because you let yourself get fat. I’m not going to put it gently and say something like “you let yourself go”, “you are ‘X’ years older than when you met her”, or “everyone gets flabby when they are in a long-term relationship”. Here at Skiinginjeans.com, we may self-promote, but we never beat around the bush. Your BMI has skyrocketed, you are constantly sweating like that old naked guy who lives in the sauna at your gym, and you are carrying around the equivalent of a small toddler in the form of fat around your waist and butt. Yeah, you got fat.
Hit the gym, start running, and get lean. It is simple stuff. Once you start dating again, you will quickly realize that no one really cares about your personality until you are far enough into a relationship to get dumped again.
3) Start dating again. This step is strictly optional. Since you will get dumped again which will require another six month supply of Zoloft, a year of therapy sessions and thousands of hours of self-loathing, you might as well just accept your previous relationship as your last shot at a meaningful, exclusive relationship.
He carefully covers himself in the tools of the night: The Patek Phillippe knock-off watch, 7 jeans-scored at Plato’s Closet with only a minor Kool-Aid stain, and Calvin Klein underwear-simple head nod to the O.G., Marky Mark. Grabbing the EZ curl bar, he knocks out at least 35 reps, but never over 58; crossing the sweat point yields another hour-long shower and primp session. Finally the shirt: a vintage 1998 Girbaud bought at a Kmart Blue Light Special. He is now ready to leave the suburbs and take on the city this Friday night.
While wearing gloves, the shirt is carefully removed from the dry cleaner bag slowly put on to avoid any unnatural wrinkles in the fabric. He turns up Tiesto in his room and practices his approach with a mannequin. The Point. The Wink. The Double Wink. The Point-Double Wink (this one is still in the experimental phase). If only that mannequin were a real woman like in that movie Mannequin Two: On the Move, he could work the club circuit strictly as a spectator and not a true player.
He grabs the keys to the Subaru Outback off the counter as his mom yells something inaudible at him. He drives out of the sub-division only leaving a baby seat on the floor of the garage as any proof that he was there.
With track housing behind him, his transformation into “Stinger” is complete. Now he is free.
Enter The Thunderdome (good-bye suburbs)
The crowd is starting to build at the door, but Stinger pushes through to the staff and slips the guy a twenty.
Once seated, Stinger leans back in his seat and lights up a clove cigarette. Several patrons give him a look of disgust, but he waves them off with a twist of his hand. A waitress walks over to him. He cuts her off before she can talk to him.
“Bottle of Grey Goose. Soda, cranberry and a large bowl of cherries,” Stinger says as he sharply looks away to avoid any follow up questions. The server rolls her eyes in agony as she backs away from the table.
The waitress returns with a middle age man. He calmly speaks as Stinger looks on, “We do not offer bottle service. This is Chili’s. However, we have a fine selection of island drinks. Would you like to start with an Awesome Blossom to go with a Presidente Margarita?”