Thursday, September 25, 2008

How to pick up strippers...


A subject close to my heart... BELIEVE ME!


I've been a... ahem... frequent patron of Johannesburg's finer, and sometimes... not so finer... gentleman's clubs for a few years now. I believe it is a man's right, NAY, his duty to patronise these establishments based on one, inalienable fact...


And this is that fact....


Are you ready for it...?


Are you sure? It's pretty wisdomous, so, you know, don't tread lightly...


Where was I?


Oh yeah, why guys should go to strip clubs...


Girls have boobies, and we like lookin' at 'em.


It ticks me off no end when girlfriends deny their boyfriends their basic human right to go and look at boobies. I mean what, if not this, did Nelson Mandela spend 27 years in jail for? I ask you!


It's harmless fun, ladies. Really, it is!


Guys don't go to strip clubs with the intention of scoring. because... sad to say... most guys just don't get it right.


Okay, now that I've gotten that twat out the way, let me get to my real point.


And I'm talking to YOU, the dudes who blow your cash at Teazers and get nowhere, no matter how hard you try.


This is for you. My simple guide to picking up strippers.


You can choose to ignore my advice if you want - that is your Nelson Mandela given right. But those who know me will testify to the fact that I know what I'm talking about.


Point 1: Go to a strip club! (otherwise, this whole thing's useless)


Point 2: Find a girl you like, and call her over. (Most guys just sit there, letting the dog-ugly man-thing that usually makes no money sit next to them for four hours, bitching about the fact that she can't make enough cash to support her two Russian children)


Point 3: Listen when she talks, and remember facts. (strippers, like all girls, love to run their mouth, and they will say something that, if you recall it at a later date, will make her think that you're a guy who actually pays attention to, and appreciates her)


The last point is key. Strippers get hit on 100 times a night. If you're just like every other drunken idiot, you'll be at home an hour later trying to remember what that tattoo was on her lower back instead of taking a picture of it with your camera phone.


Three steps.


They sound simple, because they are.


And they work. trust me...


I've got the whip marks to prove it.









...the following is merely a guideline, and the author takes no responsibility for any STDs, whip marks or rope burns that might occur if his advice is taken literally...

So, why bother...?



So... why start blogging after all these years....?


Well, you can blame this rambling mess on two people. One fictional, and the other... not so much: Barney Stinson, from the hit NBC show How I Met Your Mother, and Candee Adams... the sweet one.


In several episodes, Barney's been known to shout "This is so going in my blog!" whenever one of his friends piss him off. And, well... I want that. My friends, family and colleagues piss me off a LOT!


*Oh, don't look at me like that! You know who you are! yes, YOU!*


So, from now on, if that happens, I can shout... "This is so going in my blog!"


I don't think I need any more reason than that...


B