The Day After

I had to write this three days after.  The immediate day after was filled with pain.  Not the pain of jail.  Not the pain of getting caught by the bouncer fucking a stripper.  Not the debilitating pain of “I thought a 40 of OE made sense after a 6 pack of Coors light.”

No, Tuesday was the pain of a cigar and an end of the evening mystery concoction of Red Bull, Ketel One and
liquid hot magma. We’re lucky to be alive. Keon, you’re a bitch.

Karma:  Never let someone make you a drink out of your sight.  Didn’t you learn that already?

Bullet points that stick out in the haze:

  • Know someone who knows someone, if you’re going to the titty bar on a summer Monday.
  • With dancers, natural tits always beat silicone.  ALWAYS.
  • You can do much of what you feel compelled to do.  They’ll tell you, as long as you’re being cool.  Apologize for your errant hands or your forgetfulness of their limits. Pre-asking if you can slide your hand up the inside of their thigh will be met with “no.” “I’m sorry” with a tip means another dance.  NOTE TO SELF:  If you’re too sloshed or too touchy, you’ll spend the rest of the time watching from a distance they deem safe (NO REFUNDS).
  • You can’t fuck them in the VIP room. NOTE TO SELF:  Don’t believe the big tits girl who implies that you can get a little extra, maybe even a BJ, if you just go back to the VIP room for another $200 1/2 hour.
  • Stripper math is the OTHER “only constant in the universe.” 2 girls times one $20 dance does not equal 80 bucks.  Have you girls been talking to that bitch Breanna, or is this just implanted in the silicone information software somewhere?
  • Life is good when you leave the club with some of your own money left and no more energy to spend it.
  • Sometimes a $48 steak and a $16 soup and $33 mac and cheese (with truffles!) are worth it.
  • Sometimes a $16 “Vesper” is not.  Note to Mastro’s:  A fat slice of lime is in no way a lemon zest. And shaking is not stirring. Yes, it really does matter most of the time. You fucked up the one drink I was really looking forward to.  Trust your menu…

Hangar 1 Vodka, Bombay Sapphire Gin and Lillet Blanc stirred and served up with a lemon zest

Or consult an expert

Keon’s VodBomb was better, in that it at least mirrored the probably fatal nature of the original.  We escaped our moment of John Belushi speedball death, which was nice.

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