Confessions of a Starving Artist

Welcome to the Friend Zone…

So it comes to my attention while in the office the other day that two of my esteemed fellow officers are discussing how their relationships with their (in)significant others were going.  My keen ears pick up on the fact that these are the same females that the two have been seeing, and ironically complaining about, for the past several weeks.  Such acts incurred by these wily women have gone on record as giving out their phone numbers to other guys in front of their dates, leading these young men on for up to and not in excess of five solid hours (the more crude would call this cock-teasing), and lastly; simply not putting out.  Yet these men, much to my chagrin, continue to discuss these hussies as if they are setting up for a score the size of George Clooney / Matt Damon movie.

Gents.  This is a fair request, and I promise not to judge you simply as retarded mice in the maze of sexual cheese (hmmm, on second thought that is a kinda gross bit of imagery…); ask yourself these two questions if you are seeing a chick that you are not having relations with.  One, do you have genuine feelings for this lady; i.e. do you have intentions of marriage?  If so, fine, and I subside.  If not proceed forward to question two, which is: What the fuck are you doing?

I’ll attempt to keep this lesson within the three Ss (Short, Simple, Stupid-proof).  If you are not screwing a chick AND you don’t like hanging out with her, I would submit to the court that you deserve every cold shower that you get… and a beating at the hands of LA police department.  These fellow men (and I use the term with all the stereotypes that being ‘a man’ implies) should stop calling these women to “see what you’re up to”?  Here’s a clue; whatever it is, it’s not sex with you.

Let me put it another way: it is said by many important officials on the matter (Cosmopolitan, Vanity Fair, Glamour, etc) that within the first ten minutes of meeting you, a woman has decided whether or not she is going to have sex with you.  Now I look at it this way; every woman that I meet in the bar, at the bookstore, at the planned parenting center - they all have the potiential to be “The One”.  True, odds are against me here, but nonetheless, it’s possible though not probable.  Usually, within the first few minutes of a conversation, my potential soul-mate completely throws herself out of the running my insulting me with her poor taste in music or making some sort of a reference to Jesus.  So I’ve just decided I don’t want to spend my life with her, and strangely enough, their is a solid chance that she has just decided within those first crucial minutes that she wants to fuck me.  Really, I have a hard time understanding how some people get your wires get crossed when the formula is really that simple.  And come on guys; if she has decided not to fuck you, get tuned in and do yourself a favor • go try again to meet Ms. Right… and again and again and again until you either succeed or meet Ms. Right Now… the latter of which is more likely.  But for the love of penicillin, don’t keep thinking that if you both go out for another fish sandwich or trip to the bowling ally that some how she will re-evaluate those first ten minutes.  Unless you undergo massive facial reconstruction or penal implants, she won’t.

Also, as an addendum • if you are one of my more younger disciples, and some how managed to answer “yes” to the first question I asked, then I need to address a few things to you.  First off, I don’t get you.  Second (and trust me on this) you are lying to yourself.  Nineteen thru twenty-three year old men have the fidelity of some wild horned animal in the middle of spring… exception going only to you if you happen to be one of those just-right-of-center types who wear crucifixes capable of an actual Roman crucifixion around their necks, in their ears, stiched into your sweater, etc.  And again, I don’t get you. 

In conclusion, as a solution, I suggested that these two men simply show up to each other’s dates and see what happens.    

“There are two types of people in this world • The Quick and The Dead.  We are still trying to figure out how he is breathing.”  -  Steve Brunner on co-workers

Seducing your bartender on a weeknight

This is a gainful technique that all would-be seducers should be familiar with.  Something that many young bucks straight into the game will attempt to do is avoid strange and unfamiliar women and hit on the talkative bartender.  This is a careless blunder that can often result in much adieu about nothing.  Bartenders are the ‘prime time’ of most barroom showcases, and often times they are hired because of their looks.   Also translated, this means they are paid to look good, and often times, make their money by flirting with you, ie they are paid to like you. Therefore; hitting on a bartender is often as foolhardy as, say, thinking that the stripper you have been paying twenty-bucks a song to rub her bare ass on your throbbing crotch might actually kinda maybe have a thing for you.  Rookie error, we’ve all made it.

However; (and this is important) realize that the vast majority of prime-time hook-ups occur on the weekend, mainly do to our 9-to-5s.  Only the most bold and stupid men attempt weekday take downs.  Herein is the where you can get “behind the bar”. 

For those of use who work the normal grind, we need to understand that those in the food service industry keep unusual hours, often times working until 2 am on weeknights.  What do we draw to from this fact?  Your petty server doesn’t wake up in the morning until damn near ten.  Also, consider this; how many times have you gotten off work and wanted sex just waiting for you when you get home?  Now consider that at your work environment, you can now have a few drinks, just enough to get you good and randy.  Yes, now you are beginning to see, I think.  So find that sweet little piece of good sweet lovin’ that has been serving you all week (and really, that’s hot in itself) and find out her work schedule.  Ask one of the ugly waitress; they won’t think much of it, and probably don’t talk to your target anyway.  Regardless, ugly one’s will enjoy the fact that they got to talk to such a handsome young gentleman as yourself.  Heck, even if her homely does talk to your girl, it will probably look more as flattering than not. 

Now, pick your night.  Monday thru Wednesday are your best bet, though depending on the bar, Thursday could work, but it’s usually a gamble.  Save Thursday for a finishing blow if you need to pull one of those annoy ’second attempts’.  Bartenders are more likely to drink on Thursday that any other night of the week… trust me, I’ve done studies.  Once in, pony-up to the bar, order some sort of signature drink (it will help her remember you later as an individual); but not some bitch drink or wine, this tactic doesn’t work if you drink say a Cosmo.  Do not attempt to talk to her, look content.  She will talk to you; the boredom of a weeknight dictates this as does your demeanor.  Sight smiles and try getting caught staring at her every once in a while.  This makes you appear more confident?… no, independent.  Now, regardless of the amount of other weeknight drunkies that are out, learn patience and above all, restraint.  Act as sober as you can, but stay loose.  Bottom line: be a catch.  The others will either go home or drink themselves out of the running, I promise… just don’t be one of them.  Before long, she will either a) give you her number because she “normally wouldn’t do this sort of thing,” and, “you seem really different”, b) ask for your number so she can call you when you get off (this is great because it lets you go home and get a nap in before she calls up to come over), or c) both.  Either way, there is no better approach shot for this kind of drive.

It should be warned that there are draw-backs to this method.  First, with success comes an inherient failure because it “burns the bar”.  What does that mean, you may be thinking.  The outcome is simple; if you have managed to engage the bartender / waitress in a sexual nature, you now run the risk of seeing her every time you return to this place of business.  You are now, as The Rules state, not allowed to bring or hit on anyone else while making a return visit.  Should you violate this rule, situations can and will end with several possible outcomes, none of which are very good.  Best case scenario is you get the cold shoulder from little-miss-thang, and she will never so much as eye-fuck you again.  Worst case scenario; she spreads your filthy man-whorishness tendencies around not only to the rest of the wait staff, some of which undoubtedly work at other bars (that’s just how they roll), but also her friends out of work, which in turns creates a snowball effect that can tarnish your ability to spit game for weeks, even months.  That and the horrid bitch will, without fail, cock-block you should she get the chance. 

NOTE: Never attempt to outlast the last in your “well” (the place you can always meet women).  It’s just bad juju.  To reference “the well”, please refer to Chapter 3 - Down To The River To Pray in my forthcoming book.

“I’m not mad, because I’m a supporter of all pimping.” 

- Tom Kitson on not getting his

He’s a great man… have you heard of Mr. Durden?

So what horrifies me more than just about anything is that when I started this post, acknowledging the time which has passed from my last (no fault of anyone’s but my own); my first thought on how to describe the elasped time was, “well, so it’s been a full paycheck since I last posted”…

At what point did we become like that, measuring our lives in monitary sums.  Yes, I’m lumping the lot of you in with me, because I have a strong inkling of a feeling that there is a solid 90% of you who are right there with me.  Is this all we have to offer ourselves?  Are the most exciting times of our lives behind us at our mid-twenties?  We have set quite a standard to bear for the most part:  Many of us are married, some have even reproduced (those of you who have, I will pass judgement on on an individual basis), and we now stare down the barrel of the rest of our lives.  Chicken or beef?  Be home after soccer practice.  Did you tape my show on TEVO?  …shiver….

But I degress.  I have been thinking about this more and more frequently, and I think it comes from a direct relation to my job performance.  When I feel like I’m not doing the job I signed up to do, I begin to question my direction, my intentions for the future, my ideals; in short, myself.  There is a certain me, that I want to be, and I hate that I even consider settling for something less.  I wonder how many of us will wake up one morning, find out we are thirty-five, and realize that we will not get a do-over. 

So, these last few weeks have been filled with career set backs, eye openners, future outlines I wish I could alter, and things that I don’t want to leave behind.  I’m being vague again, I know, but as I get more and more, um, consistant at keeping up with this, I promise to let you all in on what is happening with me.  I do promise that I am at a cross roads that is possibly the most difficult thus far.  The odd piece is this: if I get to go down the road less travelled, this time in my life is going to look like a romp in the proverbal poppy field.  Sleep, my pretties, sleep…

To Those of Us Who Think We Are Republicans…

Funny thing happened today on the way to the forum… Work for me has consisted of physical training, mindless paperwork outlining the next year of this units life, physical training, BBQs, mandatory ‘fun’ events, physical training, training meetings, the gym, three day weekends (because we are stressed… hmmmf), and my personal favorite; memorial services for our fallen commardes.  Now, please understand, I am not mocking the wasted lives of those men who fought beside me, and at times, died beside me.  Never will that happen, nor will my disgrace of their names, and their honor.  However; the slander that is happening with the ‘why’ of their deaths is really beginning to get under my self-imposed thumbscrews.  It is ultimately true that these men served their country, we all do to some level or another; and as the American people have figured out thankful since Vietnam, we are the violent right hand of policy, not the policy makers.  Therein is the rub. 

When we sign our silly little names on that piece of paper and start doing push-ups until small pools of sweat form under our shaved and bobbing heads we place our trust in our leadership, as a soldier it is in our officers; and on a granduer scale it is our elected officials.  Though not elected, the commanding general of my current post said today in a very large scale memorial service recognizing all of our fallen commrades, “…the only way to honor the memory of these men is to ensure that we win this war…”  I’m going to shut up for a moment an give you this email from a very pointed and literally genius (off the chart IQ or something) senior Infantry officer who I had the priviage of coming up with.

Hmmm… well then.  The point I would like those of us who support the War in Iraq to think about is simple; what’s the point.  For me, the things that we went in there to do we have done.  We got Saddam and his (hmmmf) Weapons of Mass Distruction.  We have held free elections, at least the first one.  We have perserved infastructure and as much of that shit-hole of a nation and minimized the causualties on it’s un-educated and sub-race of a people.  Upon propping up this quasi- “By the People, For the People” system of government, we must be getting gone.  That, General, what we decided on a long time ago was winning the war.  I’m not sure, if that perserves the honor of the men who died; they died doing their duty, which is whatever is asked of them by their nation.  Ending this war when it needs ending only perserves your honor, sir, and dear God, I hope that you and the rest of The Hill sees that.

…. now, if for some bazaar reason we change our mind, and stay longer, well, this wouldn’t surprise me either; but if we do let us please be honest, not only with ourselves, but the entire world.  Say that we are staying because we need to remain as a presense in Middle East in order to continue social dominance as well as some sort militant foothold on what the underbelly of society is beginning to understand as Economic Imperialism.  Say that we want to be here when this turns into a civil war so that Cheney and Rumsfeld can go back to what they have been doing for the last thirty years, and that is selling arms to that locale.  Say that we are hear to make you the new Korea, a sad bastard parody country of the US, so we can laugh when one of your culture attempts to make it on American Idol.  Say it, just say it, and I’ll smile and do my job just the same as I’ve always done.  But this time I suggest we be more honest with our tactics, as my colleague above seems to allude to.  If we are going to be honest with the fact that we are the new Romans, let us behave then as Romans.  There after all was a Honor that was Rome?  Carpe Diem… 

Hello All -

This is intended to be some sort of mild granular release from the clutter that has been forming in my head.  Two years out of a country, which I both love and hate (for reasons that will without doubt become clear) will do that to you.  Further with thenevents which I have driven the better portion of this screaming freight train of a life toward; these events slowly all coming to a head.  This should provide the voyeur in the majority of you with a subtle form of entertainment in the very least.  Could I be vaguer or perhaps more cliche at this point?  You obviously haven’t taken collegiate level poetry…