The weekend came, the weekend left.
I got plastered of my face, much is the same.
My sober mind mocks and jeers at my drunken self.
I wake up and feel the shame, knowing that I’ve played the same game again.
The pointless mess of getting fucked and spent.
Pure moments of bliss to dissolve reality and it’s stress.
Why does it always come to this?
The moment of the hangover is the time of clear thought.
God if you’re there, please give me the strength.
To start over fresh, and leave this cycle of sex, drink, sin and death.
But the weekend is coming! The weekend is here!
No time to think, just time to live.
Live for the moment, so lets get fucked!
And start once again this addictive cycle of hell.
God help us all.
Photo Via JD Hancock
From working in the toilets of a club, I have found that most boys, lads, or groups of men universally follow the following process in their epic night out.
8:00 – 10:00 pm
Scenario: Drinks at the house.
Primary Aim: Convince each other that the probabilities of bringing a woman home tonight are extremely high, based on highly acclaimed evidence such as Jersey Shore.
1) Drink as much as possible in the shortest amount of time to provide enough confidence to approach women.
2) Congratulate each other on being one of the lads.
3) Discuss the last woman they had sexual intercourse with.
11:00 pm-12:00 am
Scenario: Enter club. At the bar.
Aim: Purchase alcohol to allow the opportunity to speak to each other at a bar whilst avoiding appearing homosexual and to achieve the following verbal conversation and agreeement.
Lad A: “She’s fit.”
Lad B: “She’s fitter.”
Lad A: “We’ll definitely find them when we are a bit more drunk“
Lad B: “I can’t wait.”
12:00 – 1:30 am
Aim: Prepare for chatting up women
Before the effects of alcohol wears off, desperateness sets it. Having drunk, pissed, danced with each other and spent the majority of their weeks salary, it is now time to achieve the purpose of the night: to take a woman home.
Any female will do, because at this point, success is the only option.
“Hey, what’s your name”.
“Can I buy you a drink “
My feet hurt from wearing heels all night.
I want to go home.
My best friend is throwing up in the toilets and I can’t leave her because she’s my best friend. Friends forever.
F””” off. You’re too late. What time do you call this.
After one rejection, the man ego has diminished. It is now time to retire and congratulate each other on how an evening can be so enjoyable without women.
End of Night
At The Club…
I stand perched on the bar,my eyes fixated on a group of targets.
A sweet seductress bird flies by.
Elegantly dressed and with a charming smile, she glides past, feeling the stares of the passers by.
I stand focused, willing her to look my way, to give me that one moment.
For the moment I have her eye, she’s practically mine.
I sweep close, touch my hand on her waist, take the scent of her neck and walk past her.
She glares, confused at her loss. She knows from my eye and she wonders why.
I have her where I want her, I smell her desire and it is only a matter of time before she forsakes all of her power.
Let those who are sheep be there to do the chasing.
I am the player and my heart is raging.
Ready to take my strike, my body is poised, awaiting the moment I can claim my one prize.
The second eye is coming, oh so close!
Let there be sight! I’m there, almost!
She looks down at the floor, eyes slowly unveil, glancing up at me, they whisper:
“Take Me, Master”.
As I enter the club, I have only one objective. To hunt.
My reason for going shopping, finding nice clothes, wearing nice clothes, taking a cab and paying to enter this crowded room with loud music is not to stand at the bar communicating with males with a drink in my hand. No. What losers. Their mere presence is an insult to me, to know that I have to pay the same amount to be in the same vicinity as these mindless sheep who think that their night consisting of waddle dancing within a circle of men with their best shirts on is their concept of “fun.”
No. I am a wolf, and I’m here for my meal.
And for you men who have come out to look after and keep an eye out for your group of “best female friend circle”, don’t test me. You vermin are the people who disturb my sleep at night. Not because I worry that you may slightly delay my inevitable entrance into the insides of your female friends, but because you are lying to the world: You are not really a man. Your female friends severed your testicles off and strung them up to their waist belt so they can give them a little *squeeze* when they want some-one to buy their drinks.
Stay the hell out of my way.
And for you ladies, don’t fear me. I am the reason for you spending all that time to get ready and look so gorgeous. I love, adore and think of you all day. Your beauty astounds me and to me, is living proof that the world was created. It is a shame that these pathetic sheep men can’t see how stunning you are. You are my irresistible sweet lust and it is within my natural instinct to find, charm and seduce you.
I desire you.
Via Mardi Gras 2011
You are going for a night out with your mates.
You notice a female dressed in a short skirt and a bra. Something about this unique dress sense stands out about her which intrigues the attention of your penis.
Shaking in your boots with fear and excitement and armed with a vodka and coke in your hand, you tread a path towards your desire.
“Hi there, my name is…”
Before you finish your sentence, an army of beast like women swarm your lady of affection, give you the finger, and whisk her away, never to be seen again.
The beasts are her friends and they are your enemy. This well know phenomenon is described as: “the circle.”
What is the “circle?”
The “circle” is a group of ladies/best friends in a club who arrive, dance and leave together without acknowledging the existence of other humans. For further information on the psychology of the “circle”, please visit the 6 different types of female clubbers.
How can I break the circle and chirpse the girl I fancy?
There is only one moment when you can break the circle and “chirpse” the lady you fancy.
Firstly, we must note the different stages of “the circles” night out:
Stage 1: The dance floor
Whilst dancing, the circle face only each other, wade their hips from side to side and avoid eye contact with any other human being.
There are three rules all members of the circle must adhere to:
1) Any one who attempts to chat up a woman during this mystical cult dance will immediately be shut down by the person to the right and left of the woman.
2) The women within the circle who has had the most men attempting to chat her up wins the circle dance floor contest.
3) Any acknowledgement by any circle member of any male presence during this dance will immediately be noticed by other members who will, at the end of the night, enter a gossip tribunal by which the lady in question risks being described as a whore.
It is impossible to chat up a member of the circle on the dance floor. Many have tried. All have failed.
Probability of a successful chirpse: 0%.
2. The trip to the toilet.
As one circle member requires to urinate, all members of the circle must break the dance floor cult, hold hands and form a strong line in order to march the cold, long journey to the bathroom. Here, the circle feel at their most vulnerable: having to directly notice other people within the club can be daunting. They hold on tight for dear life, for if their fingers were to part, they risk having to be in a club…alone.
Probability of a successful chirpse: 0%.
3. The bar
The bar is a unique opportunity. As one member of the group stands to buy the drinks, the rest of the circle create a perimeter, facing outwards from the bar. Due to the crowded bar, it is impossible to create a perimeter that completely excludes other humans.
Careful watching and planning will allow you to make your timely run to the bar, enabling you to be inside the perimeter area before it is formed. The rest of the circle will be distracted; this is your chance to “chirpse”- the success of which then depends on your charm, wit and money.