They Got Game
As is my common practice, this most recent Friday I went home to run some errands and see my mother, and go shopping with said mother. When we go shopping we typically go to lunch as well. On this particular occasion due to various veto's of other places by myself and my sister, who joined us, we ended up lunching at Applebees.
No problems so far, but as we entered the establishment I noticed two Gentlemen at the bar.
Again nothing out of the ordinary except its 12:30 on a Friday afternoon and these guys already have several under their belts.
Unfortunately the story doesn't end there and the two gentlemen slowly spent the next hour revealing that they are indeed King McDouche and Superchatch.
The restaurant was playing cheesy pop radio at a moderate volume, and so it happened that my sister and myself ended up singing Styx's "Babe" at a slightly less than moderate volume. During the course of the duet I noticed that some people in the next booth over were getting slightly annoyed at our vocal stylings, so I continued at a louder volume. It was then that King McDouche looked over his shoulder and started to try and intimidate me, but then wisely saw the futility of this action and changed his mind.
By the time we left I was wishing he had started a fight with me, at least that would have been over fast. Instead I got to listen to his and his buddy's witty reparte as they shamelessly flirted with the bartender who was approximately ten years tounger than them (I'm guessing) and did so with a level of "game" so similar to junior high that for a moment I thought I was at a CCU open dorm.
But the piece de resistance was to occur right before I departed, sane only by the grace of God and having not suffered a stroke only due to my youth. What follows is a direct quote to help you realize what I was listening to; to set up the context the two kings of crunk had recognized that there was a light out above the bar.
"You know, size matters. Even in light bulbs."
And of course you know the rest of the story, without missing a beat the bartender ripped off her trousers and proceeded to throw her underwear at the gentleman while straddling the bar and talking dirty with her eyes. And if you think that really happened you are a thirteen year old male.
Somehow the bartender managed to not laugh in his face, I managed not to have an aneurysm, and the world managed to keep spinning.
Wow. The sheer stupidity of the above quote is nearly immeasurable. To illustrate lets examine something that I heard a guy I had just met whose name I don't remember say one time: "A euphemism could mean anything. YEAH BOYS!!! I'M GOING TO GO HOME A PUT TOGETHER A 500 PIECE JIGSAW PUZZLE WITH HER TONIGHT." Ok fine, you're trying to get what I assume you thought was an attractive woman to think about the size of your penis. I sort of understand that. So you pull out your go-to imagery, (drum roll) the light bulb. WTF??? The light bulb? I think we missed a stop on the logic train. This line is so stupid that it sounds like a line that I would make up and use as a joke to set up one of my friends for a "Thats what she said!"
So naturally this all got me thinking about women again (most things do eventually) and pick up lines. I'm convinced its all about who is delivering the line and not what they say. This is a natural extension of ladder theory. If a woman likes the guy it doesn't matter what he says; he could claim to be a drug addict looking for someone to use and forget and she wouldn't care, especially if he looks rich. If she doesn't like the guy he could say the most charming, clever thing imaginable and she would probably make a comment about his lack of maturity before storming off to complain to her friends.
Clearly the bartender wasn't impressed (not that I can blame her), although in this case the guy deserved a good verbal slaughtering. But he didn't get one because he hadn't tipped the bartender yet.
I guess this was mostly a rant, but speaking as a person who can say a lot of impressive things; its nice to know that it doesn't matter what I say.
No problems so far, but as we entered the establishment I noticed two Gentlemen at the bar.
Again nothing out of the ordinary except its 12:30 on a Friday afternoon and these guys already have several under their belts.
Unfortunately the story doesn't end there and the two gentlemen slowly spent the next hour revealing that they are indeed King McDouche and Superchatch.
The restaurant was playing cheesy pop radio at a moderate volume, and so it happened that my sister and myself ended up singing Styx's "Babe" at a slightly less than moderate volume. During the course of the duet I noticed that some people in the next booth over were getting slightly annoyed at our vocal stylings, so I continued at a louder volume. It was then that King McDouche looked over his shoulder and started to try and intimidate me, but then wisely saw the futility of this action and changed his mind.
By the time we left I was wishing he had started a fight with me, at least that would have been over fast. Instead I got to listen to his and his buddy's witty reparte as they shamelessly flirted with the bartender who was approximately ten years tounger than them (I'm guessing) and did so with a level of "game" so similar to junior high that for a moment I thought I was at a CCU open dorm.
But the piece de resistance was to occur right before I departed, sane only by the grace of God and having not suffered a stroke only due to my youth. What follows is a direct quote to help you realize what I was listening to; to set up the context the two kings of crunk had recognized that there was a light out above the bar.
"You know, size matters. Even in light bulbs."
And of course you know the rest of the story, without missing a beat the bartender ripped off her trousers and proceeded to throw her underwear at the gentleman while straddling the bar and talking dirty with her eyes. And if you think that really happened you are a thirteen year old male.
Somehow the bartender managed to not laugh in his face, I managed not to have an aneurysm, and the world managed to keep spinning.
Wow. The sheer stupidity of the above quote is nearly immeasurable. To illustrate lets examine something that I heard a guy I had just met whose name I don't remember say one time: "A euphemism could mean anything. YEAH BOYS!!! I'M GOING TO GO HOME A PUT TOGETHER A 500 PIECE JIGSAW PUZZLE WITH HER TONIGHT." Ok fine, you're trying to get what I assume you thought was an attractive woman to think about the size of your penis. I sort of understand that. So you pull out your go-to imagery, (drum roll) the light bulb. WTF??? The light bulb? I think we missed a stop on the logic train. This line is so stupid that it sounds like a line that I would make up and use as a joke to set up one of my friends for a "Thats what she said!"
So naturally this all got me thinking about women again (most things do eventually) and pick up lines. I'm convinced its all about who is delivering the line and not what they say. This is a natural extension of ladder theory. If a woman likes the guy it doesn't matter what he says; he could claim to be a drug addict looking for someone to use and forget and she wouldn't care, especially if he looks rich. If she doesn't like the guy he could say the most charming, clever thing imaginable and she would probably make a comment about his lack of maturity before storming off to complain to her friends.
Clearly the bartender wasn't impressed (not that I can blame her), although in this case the guy deserved a good verbal slaughtering. But he didn't get one because he hadn't tipped the bartender yet.
I guess this was mostly a rant, but speaking as a person who can say a lot of impressive things; its nice to know that it doesn't matter what I say.
posted by Nick Ulrich at 8:19 AM
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