Day 641
You know what gets you into clubs for free when you're at the beach and lets you be the guy that's pouring water in the wet T-shirt contest and yelling out insane rambling things at the audience and the contenstants before going home with at least one of the slutcationers desperate enough for validation to make up for her daddy not hugging her enough when she was a kid?
A bullhorn.
I learned this a number of years back. And it became a regular part of my daily carry items for a number of months. Even when I wasn't at the beach. Because people listen to a person with a bullhorn. I guess they seem to think that people with bullhorns are important.
I had come across this thing a few years prior but had never really thought how to put it to use. Some band director or something had it and got so pissed off at the people he was lording over that he punted it. Seriously. He punted a bullhorn like it was a football. If he wasn't a skinny old white man, he could have totally had a future as an NFL punter. I must have got at least 40 yards of carry on it. Though not terribly good hangtime. But it was a bullhorn. They don't really have a bunch of air inside and don't really bounce well, so getting that kind of distance out of it was kind of impressive.
Well, when it landed, it was broken. Kinda. One of the hinges was cracked and it wasn't working perfectly, so he just trashed it.
Not one to overlook an opportunity to procure something out of the ordinary, like a bullhorn, for free, I picked it up. I made a couple minor fixes and all of a sudden, perfectly working bullhorn. I'm not talking about one of those little fucking plastic cone things either. I'm talking the kind that need 4 D batteries to work. The type you can use for crowd control. Yeah. It was loud as fuck.
Because I don't have a big enough mouth as it is. I needed a device to make myself louder. To project to a bigger audience. This is going to end well.
Actually, it did.
I was at the beach with some friends, and while wandering around on the strip, yelling at passing cars and hot women through the enhanced mouthpiece of my bullhorn and generally waiting to get arrested for something, I got stopped, not by a cop, but by a bouncer at a club that we were walking past. He was terribly amused by my bullhorn and the things that I was saying. The way I was grabbing attention and getting guys pissed off while simultaneously making girls think I'm fucking hillarious.
Because a bullhorn makes you better than yourself. You become funnier, more confident, more creative, and more attractive to girls, and grow about a full foot. All because of a bullhorn.
I mean, when you see a chubby girl begin to yawn while standing behind her short, skinny friend, and someone with a bullhorn screams out "watch out! she's unhinging her jaw! She's going to eat you! RUN!", it gets peoples attention. And you end up being the center of attention. My ego needs fed and this is a damn good way to do it. The adoration of nameless gathering strangers and my friends pissing themselves at the ridiculous bullshit that's streaming out of my mouth non-stop was enough to really keep me on a roll. Until the bouncer stopped me.
He starts handing me cash to start getting people up to the door of the club and get people coming in. Not like a per-head thing, but throwing me $20 just to keep doing the shit I was already doing and getting people over near a door that I was already standing near does not do anything to make me feel cheap or used. I'm effectively being paid to just be a loud mouthed idiot HERE in this exact spot instead of a loud-mouted idiot wandering up and down the street for free.
So after a little while and about 20 people realizing "hey, there's a club here and this dude with the bullhorn is standing here, maybe it's cool and we can check it out, hey at least they're playing decent music" and heading inside, the bouncer asks me if my friends and I want to go in too.
I fucking hate clubs. I really hate clubs. I've always been much more of the "drunk in a bar" type. The low-lights, strobes and all the rest of that vibe in clubs just inevitably leads me to eventually dancing with some wildebeast that I don't recognize as such until we reach a normal lighting environment again. And that fucking sucks. Mostly because I have to figure out a way to tell this trogledite to fuck off in the quickest way possible. Before I go home and pour bleach over every part of my body that she touched. And that can fucking burn.
At first, I was reluctant. My friends were kinda down for it, but they were just following my lead that night. One had already managed to strike up a conversation with a moderately attractive girl that was brought over by my artificially amplified blabber. So they figured it couldn't go bad to just do whatever I wanted. I hadn't led them wrong yet. But I wasn't sold on going into the club yet.
Then the 2 promises made by the bouncer sealed the deal for me. Half price drinks for the 3 of us and I got to pour the water for the wet t-shirt contest because I had managed to get a number of cute girls and a half dozen quite hot girls over near the door and they had gone in. He figured that my (uninteded) procurement of talent into his establishment easily off-set the half price drinks and free entry. He was kind of a cool guy too. So that make it easier.
Only one problem... I can't take a bullhorn into a club. Apparently they had a rule about that. The fact that they had a rule about carrying a bullhorn into a club caused me to pause. I know I'm hardly innovative in everything I do, but really? There was enough of a history of bullhorn wielding patrons that they had to make a rule about it?
Well, the bouncer would keep the bullhorn and use it himself for a while. That was the trade. I made a counter and we settled on that. We would get in for free, have a half-price drink special for the 3 of us with an open tab, and I would get to pour the water for the wet t-shirt contest. And he would get to borrow my bullhorn. Though the final agreement was that I would get my bullhorn back when it was time to pour the water. Because I needed a mouthpiece for my audience. I needed to make it a fucking spectacle. I couldn't just be water-boy up there with a pitcher. I needed to be able to talk shit at the same time.
So after a while of drinking and a little dancing with a couple of the girls that thought I was funny with the bullhorn, it was almost time for the contest. So I blew these girls off pretty quickely. They looked hurt. I told them, "unless you're going to be shoving your tits in my face in the next 5 minutes, I have better places to be. Like with some girl in a wet t-shirt shoving her tits on my face while I pour water on them. Talk to my friends instead. They have lower standards and will tolerate your lack of wet t-shirt. I will not."
The actual wet t-shirt contest was uneventuful. Girls danced in bikini bottoms and shredded white t-shirts while air-humping me and the audience while borderline flashing everyone on the dancefloor, and a couple actually moved their shirts enough that their tits were hanging out. I yelled marginally creative things through my bullhorn to get these girls to try harder. They were the type that saw the beach as a time that it was acceptable to act like a walking cum sponge and acted the part to a T. A good laugh was had by all. One of those typical generic-hot girls won. You know the types. Too dark of a tan. Shiny but flat dark hair with a little bit of highlights. Exactly the same body as 1000 other girls. And if you were dating one of them and had a half dozen of the similar types in a police line-up, you probably couldn't pick out your girlfriend. That type. Early 00's Abercrombie model types.
It don't remember anything I said exactly, but it wasn't important. I was quickly approaching a special level drunk. And whatever it was that I said, it was enough because this one girl from the contest and her 4 friends were talking to the 3 of us when the contest was over. It was a little bit of a case of the law of scarcity showing up here. There were 5 of them and only 3 of us. And they all thought we were funny. So they were being kinda bitchy to each other.
After observing one exchange between 2 girls that were kinda obviously fighting over my attention, I told them that they could both come home with me. This brought about embarassed reddening to each of their faces. And some giggles from their friends. I came back quickly with "oh, so I guess that's not the first time that's happened. But you just fight so you don't make it a regular thing and your other friends can't pick on you for dyking it up so much". Their friends giggle uncontrollably at this. And both yell at me "shut up! That's not true! how do you know that?" I laughed and pointed to the reaction from her friends as if that told me all I needed to know.
We ended up leaving with them coming back to our room shortly thereafter. Me, still carrying my bullhorn down the street. I almost traded up to a hotter girl when I got the attention of this girl with a real cute ass and nice fake tits. But then the other 2 girls took my attention back by making out in front of me. I decided that in this case, quantity outweighed quality. Because while they were still legitimately 7's, and the other girl was probably in the 8-9 range, 2 7's beat her higher ranking. Plus, at the time, I had only ever done 2 previous 3somes and wanted to add another to my list.
So in summation... bullhorns are fucking awesome. And make people that are fucking ego freaks like me even more awesome.
No comments:
Post a Comment