If you are anything like me, and swoop Exotic Dancers every week, you will have mad stuff at your crib that Exotic Dancers have left behind. Things like watches, rings, earrings, Diamonds, Emeralds, Ruby, Sapphires, glasses, drugs, shoes, dresses, costumes etc. (And I don’t mean the Exotic Dancers named Diamond, Emerald, Ruby and Sapphire from the Spearmint Rhino in Las Vegas, real names, Cindy, Mindy, Ruby and Jenny, either.)
Hell even if you have applied 10% of the crap I have written in this blog, you will have black plastic bags full of stuff that Exotics have left behind.
I don’t think either of these tracks are “Gentleman’s Club Classics” per se, (and I don’t mean Tom Keller’s Per Se either) but I have been peeling Exotic Dancers to these tracks lately.
How are you? I hope the summer is producing many knock-outs…
Unfortunately, Ive been on the grind and haven’t much time to tour the scenes. I just read your recent post regarding Voice Mail Gangsters and Text Message Bullies.
I must say your break down is extremely on point so with that I say, Kudos to you.
However you left out some key points, one of which is my personal favorite…
The “I know where you live” line that some brokester raps to me…
I always chuckle when I hear that one since more often than not,
I don’t know where I’m going to be next week… So unless they have some sixth sense they purchased at Pacific Sunwear, it holds no weight.
Its also comical because by the time they take the greyhound or cash in their credit card miles to find me, I’m gone.
The other consideration is that these guys are chumps. Instead of getting angry at the real culprit (their girlfriend), they get mad at us and leave bottomless threats. If they actually sat down to think about it, they’d realize, it’s the girls fault, not ours. Perhaps they were doing something wrong and left the girl with no choice but to cheat. But then again, maybe its their fault too.
There is one recent story that comes to mind regarding these faux gangsters…
I was entertaining some guests in town at the Hudson Hotel. While sitting at our table, suited down in a Kiton, three button grey chalk stripe bespoke number with a lavender Brioni shirt blown open, I was approached by two spikey haired dudes with barb wire tattoos. I had noticed these guys online outside when I walked in but now they seemed obviously more drunk. I suppose to they needed to fill up on liquid courage to approach me.
But that’s neither Peter Lugar or Sturm, Ruger.
Anyway, the more brazen of the two, said, “yo bro, were you hitting on my girl last week?” Of course, I looked puzzled and embarrassed, One because I try to avoid Papa Roach and his compadres and Two because I sincerely didn’t know who he was talking about. Smoothly and politely, I replied “I don’t know, which one is she?” and that’s when he got a bit enraged. This was obviously more embarrassing for me because he’s just going to make a scene. If I was in real trouble, I probably would not have seen them coming.
As Brokester 1 was talking I could feel one of my guests stand and I quickly around turned to quell the situation. As I turned back around to see Brokester 2 chime in, I interrupted him with a simple question… “Why is it my fault if your girlfriend plays you? She played you, not me… I’ve never been played before but if so, I highly doubt I’d approach you to talk about it” The question clearly struck him off guard as I could see thoughts of mediocrity inundate and paralyzed him. Images of overdrafted bank statements, cute face but overweight girls, sale items at Hollister and trophy chests with only JV letters ricocheted off his mind’s eye and piled together in one big sub-par lump. At that point he had no choice but to walk away, ashamed. While walking away, his friend turned around to say “youre lucky” but I smirked, luck has nothing to do with this equation.
I don’t know about you, but at least once a month I get some guy on my voice mail giving me some kind of death threat (and I will bet my last Dunhill Lighter the guy leaving the voicemail is wearing an Affliction Shirt or maybe a Ed Hardy shirt).
Usually, these death threats are in the form of “If you don’t stop calling (insert girls name here), I am going to find you and kill you” or “I know you hooked up with my girl. I am her boyfriend. If you don’t stop seeing her, I and going to find you and (insert violent verb here)”.
The whole “Death Threats from Voicemail Gangsters” (and their little retarded cousin the “Text Message Gangster”) thing raises some interesting points:
1) If you don’t say the girls name on the voicemail, I probably have no idea who you are talking about. At any given time I am “dating” at least forty girls. And that is just in the U.S. Hell, I probably have intimate relations with at least 15 girls in Las Vegas right now. And at least that many working fly model girls in Miami Beach. And don’t get me started on Buenos Aires or Bogota. So, say the girl’s name on the voicemail, Skippy.
2) If you want to discuss the situation, don’t call from a blocked number (it is always from a blocked number). And no yelling a screaming. Don’t get so emotional and sensitive. Be calm and cool. I have no problem giving you some free schooling to The Game. I am that kind of G.
3) Don’t worry. I don’t want your girl permanently. You can have her back. I prefer not to have “girlfriends” for many reasons. And you can bet your last minimum wage Down Economy dollar that I am not going to have a girlfriend that is unfaithful. The World of Game is No place for beginners or sensitive hearts. Be a Smooth Operator.
4) Realize that I am actually doing you a favor. Now, at least, you know you cannot trust the girl. You should be thanking me. (For some reason, boyfriend guy never looks at it this way, but that is neither beeks nor beans).
5) If leaving a threatening voicemail on my phone is your way of scaring me, well, it’s not working. Just to clue you in (and I don’t mean DJ Clue either) real tough guys don’t threaten people. They take care of business. Real bad boys move in silence. So screw on the silencer.
6) If you think I am scared of dying, you are mistaken. I have stood down the barrel of a gun on many occasions. And I have always been Tranquilo. I have lived with contracts on my life. I have already lived a very fulfilling life. I have traveled the world. I have swooped thousands of beautiful women. If I do get gunned down, suited up while sipping on champagne, I will be laughing all the way to the Afterlife. Hell, I am probably more afraid of living.
Besides, what are you going to do?
Kill me twice?
So don’t sweat it “player”. I’m not.
The Rest is Up To You…
Michael Porfirio Mason
AKA The Peoples Champ
AKA The Game Doctor Spock
The Guide to Getting More out of Life http://www.thegmanifesto.com
