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Medium Pimpin'
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7/27/2004
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Every party needs a drunk chick. A friend of mine said that early one morning as the party was winding down. All evening there had been this one drunk girl who was walking around hugging on all of the guys. Not taking them into closets to bang them (I don't hang around with people like that...plus I asked her and she said no), but just at that sort of charming state of intoxicatedness where she likes everybody and guys like me can get a little unsolicited complimenting. She'd walk over, slap my ass, tell me I had pretty eyes, and leave before she got annoying. Then she'd come back in fifteen or twenty minutes and do it again. She was like the free cocktails at a casino. The mint on the pillow, if you will (and I know you will).
So I wondered, "Could one make money doing this?" It turns out that a 190 pound white guy with a shaved head is not nearly as charming when he walks up and slaps a stranger's ass. Something about "society's norms", and "sexual harassment" and "having to talk yourself out of an imminent beating by the guy whose ass you slapped". But maybe...just maybe...
Let's say I hired a few girls whose job it was to go to parties and get drunk and flirt. Not drunk enough that they barfed on anyone or flirty enough that they end up tied to some dude's water heater, but just "in the zone". Kind of a modern geisha girl, but without the sex, and all of the money goes to me. I think it's a great idea. Shut up and fetch my purple hat with the feather in it.
I had an overwhelming response to last week's call for people needing advice, and I plan to answer the ones that didn't suck or confuse me. That leaves two:
Dear Dusty-
My boyfriend had been cheating on me with my parole officer, so I broke up with him. Well, he got mad at me and moved to Pensacola and now my parole officer won't let me go see him. Do you think it's because I'm on parole and not allowed out of the county, or do you think it's because the officer is a little jealous of our devotion to each other? Also, I think I'm pregnant, but I don't know if it's his or not. Should I do a Deeinay (not sure how to spell it) Test, or should I just tell him it's his?
Thanks,
Alone, pregnant, and on house arrest in Florida
Dear A,P, &OHA...
You seem to have mastered the art of the poor decision. That is what landed you in jail and got you pregnant. You also don't seem to see the writing on the wall. He was cheating on you with your parole officer, and our subsequent correspondence turned up that the officer's name is Sgt. Mark Ramey. Next, your Boyfriend moved to Pensacola. Is there a greater hotbed of homosexuality than Pensacola? No. Your boyfriend is gay. Although he seems like quite a catch, you need to move on. As for being pregnant, I'm sure I speak for all of humanity when I say I hope you aren't. The world does not need another syphilitic loser mouth to feed.
See you Friday (call me).
-=D=-
NEXT QUESTION.
Dusty,
What do men think of when they see a woman naked for the first time?
-Wendy
Well, Wendy, a torrent of thoughts run through our minds when this happens. I once saw my grandmother naked when I was ten. At that moment I don't remember thinking too much. I woke up in the hallway a few hours later, having rubbed drano into my eyes and attempted to remove the visual cortex of my brain with a crab fork. If it is someone we choose to see naked and enjoy seeing naked, our minds jump first to the intense good times the next three to four minutes will bring, and then try to remember every detail of what we did to convince her to get naked so that we can make it happen again. Then we put away the bag of candy, as it has already served its purpose...
-=D=-
Salami Sightings
Here are the places I'd like to be this week
Wednesday Night Drinking Club at Twist, Buckhead July 28
Funkfest 2004, July 31st at Park Tavern. www.peachtreesocialclub.com/funkfest2004
This party will fill your quota for the week/month. Trust me, it will be. In. Sane.
 Dusty
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posted by Dusty at 8:04 PM |
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Social Skillz 101
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7/20/2004
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What follows are some simple rules oft overlooked by people who seem to be adults trying to make their way through the social scene in Atlanta (and probably across the country).
1. If you say you are going to call, you should call. This goes not only for your friends (who will likely be pretty forgiving), but people you are interested in dating. The flip side of this is that if someone doesn't call you, you should know that there is probably a reason (like them not wanting to talk to you anymore) and your name showing up fourteen times on their caller ID is not going to cause them to fall in love with you. Same goes for e-mails. What I usually do is find out where they live and go to their house and wait for them.
2. Be on time when you say you are going to be somewhere. I seriously think there is an epidemic among my generation that causes them to be chronically late. We'll all wait fifteen minutes for someone, but I have a hard time believing that someone who has a job, a car, a mortgage, and in some cases, a kid or two can't manage their own life well enough to meet me at the local watering hole at 8:00. I know that's kind of early since they don't open until noon, but I want a good seat at the bar.
3. Actually show up where you say you are going. I know it seems obvious, but many people have problems with this one. I went through a period of my life when I was stood up almost weekly by either a date or a friend. A less confident man would certainly have suspected that something was wrong with him that was making people not want to be around him. Ever the self-myopic one, I simply chose to have the warden escort me back to my cell where I could plot that person's demise.
4. Should a friend or acquaintance break one or more of these rules, give them the benefit of the doubt, especially if they are not a repeat offender. You'll feel like a class 1 asshole if someone doesn't call you back and you just react and leave them a nasty voice mail (my last girlfriend was world renowned for this) before giving any thought to the fact that they probably have a valid reason.
"Umm...hello, Dusty? It's me. You said you'd call me at 7, but now it's 7:45, so I guess I was right about you not caring...so it's over. See? I said you were a worthless piece of shit, so thanks for proving my point. I knew I shouldn't have wasted my time with you. All you care about is yourself. (volume increase) That's okay though, because you'll never amount to anything and I've been sleeping with your friends this whole time. You also may want to get checked for herpes. Just a hunch."
Wow. The glaring problem with that course of action is that I was on an airplane, and the flight took longer than expected because of weather. This was compounded by the fact that I was flying said airplane and couldn't just pull over to call my girlfriend.
So I guess point #5 would be the basic "think before you act" rule. No degree of apologizing can unsay what you say when you are angry. You're pretty much stuck with the guilt, and claiming that it is forgivable because you were mad and "just weren't thinking" is the same logic that would make it okay for me to sleep with your sister because "I was drunk".
Because I am so good at pointing out the causes of and solutions to everyone's problems except my own, I am going to take this opportunity to request questions from you fine readers and offer advice in next week's issue. E-mail me with any queries you may have about life, love, family, fishing, cars, your job, or anything else you may not have the answers to. Chances are, I won't have the answer either, but I'm pretty good at making stuff up. Don't bother submitting if you are the easily offended type. The pulling of punches is not my strong suit.
One more thing- I was told by a girl on Friday night that skittles can be used as a sex toy. It was a passing comment (as most comments about sex toys are), but it lingered over the next two days to the point that I wish I had bothered to get her phone number. You know, just so I could...ask her to explain that. Yeah.
Dusty
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posted by Dusty at 3:59 PM |
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Like a Tidal Wave of Pain
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7/13/2004
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Hi.
I'm new here. I started writing a blog called "Pork Tornado" a couple of years ago that has become pretty popular among degenerates and perverts the world over. The guy who runs this magazine (being a card-carrying perverted degenerate) saw the album covers entryand was all "Hey, you're kind of funny". To which I wittily responded, "uhh... depends. You want me to write on your site? I'll do it for a dollar." He replied, "Sure...wait. Do what for a dollar?" After extensive contract negotiations that involved six pints of Guinness, a nail gun and an awkward hug, I decided to come up with some scathingly humorous material to start things off. My idea of "scathingly humorous" and his idea of "uninspired garbage" are remarkably similar. So we have that going for us. Not wanting to break tradition, the name of this blog had to be a combination of a meat product and a natural disaster, so Salami Tsunami was born. Or re-born, as it were.
As a rule I try to surround myself with people who are smarter, funnier, better looking, and more successful than I am. That can include anyone over the age of three and most garden tools. I am better looking than a rake, and I once beat a fertilizer spreader at a game of scrabble.
The point? Oh yeah, that. I made a huge exception to my rule by joining up here. Kim's a pretty good writer, but I am constantly having to remind the rest of these hacks who's witty and who's good at business. I don't tell you how to throw a party; so don't try to give me funny lessons. I have met with most, if not all, of the people who collaborate on this site and have found them all to be marginally more intelligent than the general public. Definitely a lot more driven to succeed. Moreover, they are useful to me as stepping-stones in my writing career. That is why I will kill them last.
This weekend I realized for the 912th time that I can no longer party like I am still 21. You'd think it would sink in at some point. I am almost 32 for god's sake. Having never been a night owl, I broke my own rule and decided to stay up late and drink one last beer on my front porch with some friends. I'm always up for leaving the house at 6 pm and being home before midnight, because I know how to party and I like getting my sleep. So 3 am rolls around, and I'm out on the stoop with a couple of my homies solving the world's problems in slurred English, and people start to drop off and head home. I guess I got into bed at around 4 or so, and the next morning I silently thanked whomever it was who installed blackout curtains in my bedroom, because the idea of "getting out of bed" was ranking somewhere between "drinking a beer" and "frying and eating my own face" on the list of things I wanted to do. My eyelids had become some sort of headache switch, in that the pain seemed to go away when they were closed. Luckily, they had been glued shut during the night by the same leprechaun who had shit in my mouth.
The saddest part of this is that I didn't drink a whole lot the night before. I remember some of the insane amounts of liquid good-looks I could imbibe in the course of an evening during college. At the time, even the worst hangovers could be cured with a shower. Somewhere along the line, I guess I broke my liver or whatever part of my guts is responsible for not killing me. Whatever it is, I'm not the strapping young buck I used to be. At least I don't feel like I am. Fortunately some of that bravado and recklessness has been replaced with wisdom and confidence, so I usually have the common sense not to drink that last beer or twelve. Usually.
Salami Sightings
Here are the places I'd like to be this week-
Pundit Panel II at Vinyl, Thursday at 7 pm
Scandal, The Improvised Soap Opera at Dad's Garage Theater, Friday at 10:30 pm
Ballyhoo Orchestra, Live at Wild Wing Cafe in Marietta, Saturday at 9 pm
Dusty
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posted by Dusty at 5:02 AM |
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