Beer for chicks

“Wine is more elegant”

“Beer has too many calories/beer makes you fat”

“Beer has none of the complexities of wine”

These are the usual comments of women who, after being barraged by horrendous television and print ads showing idiotic man-children drinking insipid flavored-water beers like Coors Light, Budweiser etc (the one recent exception being the smart Dos Equis “most interesting man in the world” ad… can you say alpha in multiple languages like he does).

In anycase, last night I brought a self-professed “wine girl” back to my place. In an effort to reduce my cost per notch, I decided not to reach for my good bottles of Barolo , Chateuneuf, Silver Oak or Duckhorn. For as much as she talked about wine, her insistence that “women have better palates than men” threw a red flag at me because I know this to be patently untrue. The best bartenders/mixologists in the world are men, the best sommeliers in the world are men, the best brewers in the world are men, the people who tend to drink the good stuff, regardless of what it may be – XO cognacs, 21 year+ scotches, small batch ryes, Jewel of Russia vodka, etc are all exclusively men. Because it is men who KNOW how to enjoy the subtleties of these delectable beverages and quaff them accordingly. In contrast, women will drink anything that looks pretty, smells pretty, tastes insipidly sugary, and/or sounds naughty.

“Half a good man is better than none at all”

This would be the SECOND time I’ve ever come across this phrase. The first time I heard this phrase was when a stone cold Russian frosted ice queen of an ex came to visit me about a year or so after the last time our genitals had brushed together. She babbled on and on about how her brand new Irish beta spent 5G’s on her the days before he took off from LAX. Funny, just 2 hours later shes sitting on my lap telling me beta stories about him. I was at this spot West 4th & Jane in Santa Monica with the owner of the joint, it was past 2am and he’d closed the place down already and we had the spot to ourselves, my boy was busy getting his frolic on with an Aussie hottie and my ex was on my lap by this time.

Anyone who knows Russians know that no amount of negging is ever enough. You have to be even more ice-cold and ruthless than they are or you lose respect. I ridicule her about her boytoys supreme betatude and linked that to her aging looks and her inability to land any decent alphas anymore. She then uttered those words “half a good man is better than none at all”… upon which I carried her kicking and flailing to the mens room and bent her over to give her the better half of a great man.

I just read this article about women in Russia clamoring for legalized polygamy, especially outside urban areas.

Lust in Translation

I recently started reading this book I got off Amazon as a hardcover – “Lust in Translation: The Rules of Infidelity from Tokyo to Tennessee” by Pamela Druckerman. In it the author talks about her quest to figure out infidelity in the world and find out why people cheat.

Early on in the beginning chapters she immediately acknowledges that the semantics lends itself to bias. To use the words “infidelity” and “cheating” automatically implies morally dubious behavior. I assumed from here on out that the book would unfold without a moral bias, and although she attempts to do so, it is blatantly obvious that her bias is a necretizing fasciitis under the surface, her obvious feminist bias infecting and invading and inevitably destroying the credibility of her “research”.

I immediately remembered some memorable posts by the FEMALE MASCULINIST here, here, here and here regarding feminist bias having infected academia and wordsmithy.

But I digress. Some of the facts and figures Pamela tries to claw out are noteworthy, and it was a fascinating revelation to me that its rare to find queen or king-size beds in Japan and that most beds sold there are “single” or “twin” sizes. I just remember the last time I was in Japan every coital collision that I had was at my hotel room – on a queen-size bed – presumably for their foreign traveling clientele, therefore I never noticed this aberration.

The Edison

Entered the Edison solo around 8:30 on a weeknight, skipped the lines. In about 30 minutes it will take an hour in line to get in. So I made a beeline for the main bar, struck a conversation with my personal favorite bartender and got myself some decent scotch. For the record, in my experience men in general are WAAAAAY better bartenders than women. Women sell with their tits, men sell with their knowledge. Nuff said.

Within 5 minutes I’m having a conversation with an Air Force couple making their first foray into the festering waters of downtown LA. I immediately opened up a pair of women trying to squeeze their way between us to get to the bar. Naturally, not an inch was given. The couple excused themselves and I played the two women against each other – “well she has better taste in alcohol thats for sure, but you’ve got better taste in shoes.”  They were at best, cannon fodder and easy conversational practice until the onslaught to come. I had to relieve myself to I relieved myself of the now bickering former best friends.

I ended up talking to woman who had a ridiculously short dress. Seriously, any shift out of the sweet spot position would reveal at best – her sweet spot – and at worst, a well contoured camel toe. She had the confidence to pull it off too and she was definitely worthy prey. She’s sending me a lot of clear indicators of interest and I’m escalating well when her designated cockblock of a heinous bitch comes in and attempts to swoop her off.