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Performing live rock'n'roll is like having sex with 300 people at the same time.
Wait a minute. Only half the people in the bar will be female. And out of those women, you will only want to sleep with the seriously hot ones--say, the top ten percent.
Performing live rock'n'roll is like having sex with 15 people at the same time.
How should you respond when someone says, "I was worried about you"? Should you be flattered, or insulted?
A win-win situation: "Drink the magic potion, faggot."
What are you doing fooling around on the Internet? Your room's a fucking mess. Go clean up your bedroom, and then come back and read the rest of this entry.
Just to let you know, if you invite me back to your place and try to make me wait outside while you run in and tidy the place up, I will consider that a warning sign of big-time neurosis.
My response will be: "If you make me wait outside, I am going to leave." And I'll do it. See ya!
It is an insult to my masculinity to imply that I came home with you because I wanted to check out the décor. I'm not looking for a good housekeeper at this time. No, chances are all I care about is shoving some crap off your bed so I can pick you up and throw you down on it.
In North America, it's considered sufficient to say "Excuse the mess" when inviting a stranger into your home for the first time. Then you kick the underwear under the dresser and get on with it.
(In fact, even when my place is immaculate I'll usually still say "sorry about the mess..." just to savour the irony.)
Ninety percent of the mess in a girl's room is just piles of clothes anyway. OK... so take off the clothes you're wearing, and add them to one of the piles. Simple enough. Soon I won't be able to notice anything anyway; it's hard to see when I've got my head stuck between your legs.
Trust me, expecting a man to stand around outside like a chump reflects on you way worse than revealing any clutter you might have accumulated in the course of daily life.
Anytime I leave my house, I'm aware of the possibility that I may find myself in a sexual situation (North End Halifax is a pretty sexy neighbourhood). So I make sure things are neat and tidy before I go out. Either that, or I adopt the mindframe that I'm just too arrogant to care. Which is still preferable to being all neurotic and annoying.
Take heart, lady slobs. I really don't mind walking into a place that is strewn with books, CDs and women's underwear. That's what Paradise will be like!
Sorry I haven't been updating lately. I've been hard at work on a new porn film entitled Humpy McButtocks Rides Again.