Continued from Big Daddy’s Sports Club.
This first picture was taken from the second level of Big Daddy’s. All the way up towards the roof are two planks where bouncers help hired club girls on and off from the swings. They get lowered down and swing back and forth in random patterns while everyone on the main floor stops what they are doing to watch (to make sure they don’t get landed on, perhaps). In terms of skill, if walking and chewing gum is a 0 and making the space shuttle disappear is a 10, their performance would rate a 1. (One point has been added for their attractive appearance).
Check out the Sienna Miller clone second-to-left. I was talking to this group when Sienna Miller blurted, “Someone take a picture of me!” Yes, m’aam! I told her about the resemblance in an indirect way because I didn’t want to blow her head up even further. “You kinda look like that girl in Alfie,” I said. Like most people, she didn’t see the movie. She may live her entire life not knowing she looks like Sienna Miller. It was talking this group that almost got me beat up.
If you haven’t figured it out yet, I have a thing for Sienna Miller. Even though I would cream my pants if she touched me with intimate intent, I’m confident I have the skill to still run tight game on her if I so happened to run into her at Dragonfly. But even though Sienna Miller was in the house, I was more interested in another girl who looked nothing the ones in my masturbation fantasies.
These two girls were the married chicks. The white girl on the right is natural-born-cockblocker with a grating personality and aggressive attitude. She is the type that goes around asking random guys to buy her drinks. I liked her exotic friend instead (no, she’s not Indian). She had many piercings and tattoos but was just so nice and sweet—the dichotomy made me lust for her. I won over the white witch eventually but it all proved to be for naught when the husbands rolled by to pick them up.
Back at the house, I entertained myself by throwing an American football up and down and gripping it really hard-like. On the hidden couch to the left was a passed-out girl who for some reason drank more than she can handle.
When the party ends and you look around and don’t see any prospects who are conscious, your goal becomes about sobering up and figuring out how you are going to get home. This wasn’t the case for VK because the girl on his left was not only conscious but unlikely to puke. In this house lived a couple heterosexual guys in their early-twenties, but I still can’t figure out why there is a sexy picture of a man posted on the refrigerator. An inside joke, I hope.
