Darn it, my beer sucks...

Guys who have gone out to guy places know that the best combination for a great night out is booze, girls, and low lighting. Even if you dole out lots and lots of cash, there's nothing better than getting a fix -- someone to hold, someone to talk to, and someone who wouldn't mind getting drunk with you in a skimpy outfit. And best of all, it's all just business -- nothing personal, just business (and pleasure).

Having gone through that really bad experience last night, I would be glad to share a couple of things that I could (without sounding too crass, vulgar, nor tactless). Just remember, it's not the person, it's the situation.

Last night I was with a lady named Kaye (just barely remembering her name), who was young (18), energetic, and playful. She was very good with her hands, holding mine, holding the ice cold beer, and stroking my arm. She stood a nice 5'7" (as tall as I was) and had a very shapely (although not too curvacious) body.

Enough about her. She's very sweet, a little tactless, but nonetheless very active. Then I find out that she doesn't actually have a brain.

Every attempt at a conversation got into an arm wrangling fit, or a body hugging pause. I never really got anything out of that encounter, except a really bad case of a headache -- not only because I was drinking an (a couple of) ice cold San Mig Light(s), but because I couldn't understand whatever the hell we were talking about already.

I was missing a real conversation which I could very well enjoy and benefit from. I never thought I would be able to withdtand a whole night with someone so immature and brainless. Not to mention painfully attractive, sweet, and irresistable. Now I know why I like going to the bars around UPLB. And now I remember why I should stick with the ones that actually look like they have a brain in between their ears.

I'm not demeaning her, but I was really just ticked off at the fact that I couldn't get a real conversation going without going through excessive bodily contact -- which didn't even arouse me anymore. Aside from that, I wasn't drinking a Super Dry.

Now, I have a bad hangover -- which prohibits me from smiling. Not really from the airhead I met last night, but because of the beer that I couldn't even enjoy.

Trying to leave it all behind, a while ago I got an orgasmic foot spa. The next time, I should enjoy something as stimulating as a footspa instead of a dreaded hugging experience. Next time, I should get a real orgasmic conversation with people who actually have intellectual capabilities.

Chill...