A gentleman is nothing if not one big bottomless cocktail of class. Zig-zagging down the street with a brown-bagged highball in one gloved hand and devilishly spinning his bow tie with the other while making AHH-OO-GAH eyes and wolf-whistling at every female he passes, our champion not only exudes elegance and sophistication, he embodies it. So you can wager your widget factory that when a gentleman falls head over heels for a fair lass in a late-night den of ill-repute, he not only charms her by cooing sweet nothings into her ear, but he personifies his amorous longings with a carefully executed dance. Foxtrotting across the floor, cutting in and out of the crowd and moon-walking all up and down the motherfucker, old twinkle toes struts his stuff like a peacock locked in a primordial mating ritual, making sure that every ounce of his feelings are properly conveyed to the object of his sweet affections.

MaiThaiMaster: holy shit
MaiThaiMaster:  i just got into the office
MaiThaiMaster:  WTF happened last night? 
MaiThaiMaster:  there was dried blood in my hair this morning
MaiThaiMaster:  i mean FUCK
Accomplice: haha oh boy….
Accomplice:  you really want to know? 
MaiThaiMaster:  yes. one moment we’re casually drinking mai thai’s at the bar
MaiThaiMaster:  and the next i’ve suddenly time warped to this morning
MaiThaiMaster:  where i am lying on my couch, still in my clothes and covered in steak fries from the diner 
MaiThaiMaster:  and i have a head injury
Accomplice:  hahahaha
MaiThaiMaster:  oh and the DVD menu of temple of doom is playing on repeat 
MaiThaiMaster: i cant get the indy theme music out of my head
MaiThaiMaster:  and my head is pounding
Accomplice:  well Mario, a lot transpired before you warped through the plumbing pipe 
MaiThaiMaster:  oh shit, please tell me i defeated king koopa and fucked the princess
Accomplice:  hahaha, far from it…
Accomplice:  you were going crazy with the mai thai’s 
Accomplice: you thought it was hilarious we were drinking them 
Accomplice:  you kept screaming “I feel like warren zevon on holiday!” 
Accomplice:  whatever the fuck that means
Accomplice: and telling the bartender you were going to buy the place and turn it into a Trader Vic’s and only serve Mai Thais
MaiThaiMaster:  oh god, the lunacy of it all
Accomplice:  so you were getting visibly drunk
Accomplice:  finally you fell off your stool 
MaiThaiMaster:  oh fuck, that explains the blood on my head? 
Accomplice:  exactly, you were a little banged up
Accomplice:  best part is you get up 
Accomplice:  calmly sit back down and look at the bartender who is staring at you with a mixture of shock and disdain
Accomplice:  raise your index finger and kinda swirl it in a loop and say:
Accomplice:  “just keep the mai thais coming”
MaiThaiMaster:  jesus
Accomplice:  hahahaha, i died laughing
Accomplice:  the bartender didnt however, and he asked us to leave
Accomplice:  citing that you’d clearly had enough
Accomplice:  i couldn’t really argue with that logic 
Accomplice:  i figured the night was over and tried to put you in a cab on 2nd ave
Accomplice:  but you would have none of it 
Accomplice:  and insisted we go to some bar that your coworkers were at
MaiThaiMaster:  WHAT?!
MaiThaiMaster:  did we? 
Accomplice:  yep
MaiThaiMaster:  WHY? why would you let a man with a belly full of mai thais and a bleeding head call the shots??!!
Accomplice:  i guess i am just a pawn in your game
Accomplice:  plus you were enjoying yourself, as was I 
Accomplice:  so we went
Accomplice:  the place was cheesy as fuck
Accomplice:  bad music
Accomplice: murray hill meat heads everywhere 
Accomplice:  you immediately start dancing all nuts
Accomplice:  sticking your ass up in the air hoochie mama rap video style 
Accomplice: like mocking the music but more or less mocking yourself 
Accomplice:  demanding beers
Accomplice:  interrupting dart games 
Accomplice:  high fiving these dudes you work with who kept laughing at you 
MaiThaiMaster:  fuck me 
MaiThaiMaster:  i must have been so annoying, sorry….
Accomplice:  but the best part
Accomplice:  the part that convinced me I needed to get you in a cab for real
Accomplice:  was…
Accomplice:  and I feel bad even telling you this but I someone has to
MaiThaiMaster:  oh god
MaiThaiMaster:  OH GOD
MaiThaiMaster:  what? what the FUCK did I do? 
Accomplice:  hahahaha
Accomplice:  that bloodhound gang song came on
Accomplice:  remember the one from like 2000? 
Accomplice:  nothing but mammals or something? 
Accomplice:  one sec……
Accomplice:  this one: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iTW8oUV8Aq0
Accomplice:  everyone started laughing 
Accomplice:  and you grabbed that chick you work with
MaiThaiMaster: who? kirsten*? 
Accomplice: yeah! 
MaiThaiMaster:  dude i dont like where this is going
MaiThaiMaster: I like her
Accomplice: oh believe me, THAT was apparent
MaiThaiMaster: goddamnit 
Accomplice:  so you guys started to dance to it, you’re spinning her
Accomplice:  she’s drunk too and at first it seems like you guys are just joking around
Accomplice: BUT
Accomplice:  then you start to slow dance with her, like a joke at first
Accomplice:  but then it is getting creepier and creepier 
Accomplice:  like you put your cheek on hers
Accomplice:  she starts looking back at us like WTF? 
MaiThaiMaster:  holy shit
Accomplice:  finally she pulls away, pats you on the back and leaves you on the dance floor
Accomplice:  and you have a boner
MaiThaiMaster:  WHAT? 
Accomplice:  i am serious, you are pitching a tent in front of the whole bar and everyone you work with
MaiThaiMaster:  that’s impossible
MaiThaiMaster:  you are fucking with me
MaiThaiMaster:  i dont believe it
MaiThaiMaster:  i cant get a boner when i am drunk
Accomplice:  believe it boner boy 
Accomplice:  IT HAPPENED
Accomplice:  that’s when I knew you had to leave
Accomplice:  i grabbed your hand and pulled you out of the bar
MaiThaiMaster:  wait, we left the bar holding hands and i had a boner? 
Accomplice:  hahaha yeah things got fucking weird 
Accomplice:  i should have given you a lollypop too and a ride home on the short bus 
MaiThaiMaster:  pffff are you fucking with me? 
MaiThaiMaster:  i am panic stricken right now
MaiThaiMaster:  please tell me you are joking, this is too impossible 
Accomplice:  i wish i was
MaiThaiMaster:  oh
MaiThaiMaster:  fuck
MaiThaiMaster:  OH FUCK
MaiThaiMaster:  i just got an email from Kirsten*, subject line, “quite the performance last night” 
MaiThaiMaster:  OMG
Accomplice:  hahahahahahaha
Accomplice:  i am dying
Accomplice: quit your job
Accomplice: what’s the email say? 
MaiThaiMaster signed off at 11:50 AM 

Nothing would please a gentlelady more than to romance her male mirror image, the gentleman. And trust us, the feeling is mutual. However, given their fabulous, liver-taxing lifestyles and unwavering commitment to tomfoolery, these counterparts rarely make it into the sack ensemble. Over the course of a gin soaked eve, drunken texts are misread, misspelled or never sent at all, and sadly the gentleman and gentlelady go about their nocturnal business like two ships passing in the night. But believe us, should the two ever shack up, they’d do so with enough class, elegance and sophistication to rip a hole through the space-time continuum.

Saturday Night, 11:32 PM — 1:10 AM (Told through a series of texts)
Gentleman: I hear you’re going to be out tonight, throwing down
Gentlelady: Ha. Going to sweet and vicious Ha. Where I met you! Ha. You were so FUCKED up! Where are you all at?
Gentleman: Didn’t stop you from making out with me…
Gentlelady: What- No! Yes, oxide are you? So Sad. Can we please hang?
Gentleman: I understand very little of that, but yes.  Where are you?
Gentleman:  Heading to W. Village. Plastered. Again.  Where are you?
Gentlelady: Place in SoHo. No Idea. Meet?
Gentleman:  Yeah, streets?
Gentlelady: Bleeker & Sullivan
Gentleman:  Fuck?
Gentlelady: Yes
Gentleman:  Ok

Sunday Morning, 10:17 AM
Gentleman: Holy God…hungover.  Did we see each other last night?
Gentlelady: I’m in your kitchen

When it comes to women-wooing, a gentleman prefers to avoid all cat and mouse games by cutting straight to the chase. Considering Internet dating and flirty repartee the methods of meek men, a gentleman sticks to the tried and trusted tradition of the grand gesture and the age-old sacrifice, taking it upon himself to produce something beautiful and attention-grabbing that truly expresses his obsessive love for the dame he desires. Sure, a handful of these gestures might be a bit off color for some, and could perhaps garner the gentleman a restraining order or, worse yet, land him in The Hague for a most uncomfortable “war crime” tribunal. However, a gentleman has enough hubris to pull off such risky maneuvers, because — above all else — an experienced gentleman lothario knows what women want, and thus there is no risk at all. (We considered naming this post “A Gentleman Is Offensive.” If, however, we do have any politically correct readers — which we seriously doubt — then we implore you to read no further! — Ed.)

Lothario: dude that new transformers trailer looks legit
Romeo: oh i peeped
Lothario: i would suck a turd out of megan foxs ass, have i said that lately?
Romeo: i would suck rea out of her ass thru a straw
Lothario: i would kill you for her
Romeo: i would kill myself for her
Lothario: i would kill 500 puppies barehanded for her
Romeo: i would revive the 500 puppies you killed, just to kill them again for her
Lothario: i would rip every finger and toenail off my body with my teeth for her
Romeo: i would shoot a lethal dose of heroin right before i get behind the wheel of a school bus for her
Lothario: i would purposely contract swine flu, then lick every surface of every elementary school in all 50 states for her
Romeo: i would serve porkchops from infested swine at a charity dinner for holocaust survivors for her
Lothario: i would start a new holocaust for her
Romeo: i would claim that your holocaust never existed for her
Lothario: i would sit through schindlers list for her
Romeo: i would reboot schindlers list in color from a nazi perspective for her
Lothario: i would have michael bay direct it and have vin diesel play schindler for her
Romeo: i would never watch another episode of lost for her
Lothario: and we have a winner, congratulations
Romeo: hahahaha

Related Posts:

A Gentleman is a Modern Day Romeo

A Gentleman Issues a Flowered Apology

 

The internal affairs of the modern gentleman are some of the most storied accounts ever pontificated upon during juicy and ripe exchanges among good friends, and — despite the prudish and puritanical preconceptions of commoners — these tales are celebrated and discussed just as feverishly and intensely as any compelling business ethics/geo-political/science vs. religion/Illuminati conversation. From high on a porcelain throne, or in the most gentlemanly of cases an ivory throne, these brave veterans of battle have dispersed their legions of solid soldiers to the watery depths of America, and have lived to tell the tale. Due to his decedent lifestyle and never ending quest for excess, a gentleman is known to exert immense effort to record and chronolize his most precious moments, to not only learn from his own mistakes or successes, but also to pass them on to younger, aspiring gentlemen. Join us as we enter into these hallowed annals to discover the luxurious inner-most workings of the modern gentleman.

A Gentleman Continues His Streak

StinkyClean: I have shit myself in the past … I will shit myself most certainly in the future – It is the patience in between where your drawers get clean and your spirits lifted – Frank Walden
TotalTowler: that quote is quite pertinent after the poop streak you left on my fresh clean towel this morning. I like where your head is at.
StinkyClean: what? Did I really?
TotalTowler: only slightly
StinkyClean: slightly what?
TotalTowler: slightly more than enough to make me put it back in the wash
StinkyClean: WHAT?!
StinkyClean: WHAT?!
TotalTowler: haha i’m serious
StinkyClean: JESUS H….
StinkyClean: how would I do that
StinkyClean: I don’t even understand
TotalTowler: shrug
StinkyClean: LOL I think I just hit a new low…

A Gentleman Exercises Quick Action

ShartAttack:  Davison, remember that time we were heading out of town and I was telling how as I get older my body does weird things.  Like I fart when I pee now?
Davison:  and ejaculate when you sneeze.  of course.
ShartAttack:  Well my body just decided to take it one step further and tried to make me shart myself.
ShartAttack:  I saved it though, I clenched it and duck walked to the stall and now clean as a whistle
Davison:  did you bring a wet paper towel into the stall with you for extra cleaning ability?
ShartAttack:  that was too much duck walking. the bathroom layout isn’t too conducive to shart prevention
Davison:  it rarely is. though i don’t feel like it’s the bathroom’s responsibility to manage those urges.
ShartAttack:  I met this obstacle head on, with fire in my bowels and courage in my eye
Davison:  and little bit of shit in your pants. i’m proud of you son. lesser men would have crumbled under that sort of pressure. how will you celebrate this feat?
ShartAttack:  I just put in a lipper at my desk
ShartAttack: my boss walked by and told me if gross so I told him to go fuck himself

A Gentleman Frames a Feline

BilliamShatner: i am a gentleman
WiseSpockMan: how so
BilliamShatner: as are you. just facts
WiseSpockMan: i like the way this conversation is going
BilliamShatner: however, our better instincts are often tested. take, for example, today: around two o’clock, i had finished my afternoon lavatorial event
WiseSpockMan: i’m intrigued, continue
BilliamShatner: and i realized that i was PROBABLY going to have to take a shower when i got home. i, however, did not go home. at quarter towards 6, i took a miss Tina Cumshot for a ¡culinary engagement mexicain!
WiseSpockMan: haha
BilliamShatner: she was turned on when i told our waitress that her ceviche was a little spoiled and too acid, so despite my insistence, she took it off the bill
WiseSpockMan: all-business, all-day
BilliamShatner: no doubt
BilliamShatner: afterwards, we drove to her house. after a few hours of coitus, we found ourselves incredibly perspirous
BilliamShatner: here’s where i need to cut the shit (foreshadowing)
BilliamShatner: she sauntered into the bathroom, expecting me to follow. when i got up, i turned around and saw what i will tellingly describe as a “smear”….
WiseSpockMan: oh snap. what did you do?
BilliamShatner: i ripped the sheet off of the bed, curled it into a ball, threw, it in the corner, and got into the shower
WiseSpockMan: successful. high five brotha
BilliamShatner: it continues into the shower, but i look down and see the faintest bit of brown water hit the floor as water runs down my back. i snap into gear
BilliamShatner: i pretend to slip and right myself, and sexily say how we should return to the bed room. she doesn’t notice that the sheet is gone. another round begins. third and final.i dismount victoriously!
BilliamShatner: she rolls over a little in ecstasy, and i see that a stain had seeped through the comforter. i look down
BilliamShatner: she looks down
BilliamShatner: “what is that”
BilliamShatner: “i have no idea”
WiseSpockMan: oh shit (no pun intended)
BilliamShatner: “is it blood?” she says
BilliamShatner: “i don’t know I hope not”
BilliamShatner: after a little talk about the blood theory and her disbelief that would bleed, i sense possibly an air in her voice of “fuck, pregnancy”. naturally, i CANT let her think this. so i investigate by smelling it. do the whole bit. “it smells less like blood, and more like… something else”
BilliamShatner: “well it wasn’t ME!” she says
BilliamShatner: “well i don’t know!”
BilliamShatner: “it was the cat then” she says
BilliamShatner: who am i to tell her it wasn’t the cat!
BilliamShatner: ANYWAYS my point is, i should NOT have told her then, lest i completely destroy the electric mood
BilliamShatner: i’m going to tell her, but i need reassurance that i HAD to cover up
WiseSpockMan: don’t
BilliamShatner: well, i might not immediately
WiseSpockMan: do NOT.
BilliamShatner: but DUDE, when she cleans that sheet, and sees that it was NOT a cat. you better be there, ready to go to battle. because i, a gentleman, shat her sheet
WiseSpockMan: hahahaha. i just lol’d
WiseSpockMan: yeah i understand. it sucks she’s smart. there is the off chance she won’t put the two and two together
BilliamShatner: by god, we can hope
WiseSpockMan: as a fellow gentleman i’ll hope for you
WiseSpockMan: i feel as if i’m now incorporated into the situation
BilliamShatner: haha
BilliamShatner: all gentlemen of the world are

A Gentleman’s Coup De Grace

When I was 17 my girlfriend at the time was finally ready to have sex. I, as one might expect of a 17 year old, was excited. Neither hell nor high water was going to stand between me and my final destination.

I get ready for the night, trim everything up, shower extra well. Unfortunately there was also an issue. I have a digestional disorder that sometimes cause my shit to become large and quite solid while still inside me. I wasn’t aware it was a treatable problem and, in fact, just thought everyone had to deal with the equivalent of anal kidney stones. I bring this up because I had a mighty one which had been loaded into the gun for several days.

Let me set the scene. Her parents are away. We have her house to ourselves. She was always a little kinky so she demands we do it in her parents bed.

I walk in to a candle holocaust. She’s been working on this all day apparently, and its as bright as high noon in there with the lights off. Which is good, because she proceeds to do a sweet, sexy little dance for me. At 16, she was AMAZING. For those of you who never experienced a female at that age, I pity the fool.

Now I’m sitting on the bed, watching this dance. I smile and tell her how good she looks. Unfortunately, most of my attention is focused on the dull throbbing from my sphincter and the large amount of intestinal discomfort associated with not dropping duce in days. But somehow I still get hard and we go to town.

She starts out on top, then we switch. I bend her over the bed, and I even smack her ass (a ballsy move at the time, but she loved it). Due to my built up distraction, I last for what seems like FOREVER. She can’t stop moaning and telling me how good it feels, and then she says what every man wants to hear “I want to make you go in my mouth.” I **** love women.

So she goes down on me. She was always average at best in the head department but at least she tried. She pops my **** out of her mouth long enough to look up at me and say “tell me if you like this”. Then I feel it.

She stuck her finger up my ass.

My brain hits the panic switch and every muscle in my entire body locks up tighter than a three year old virgin. But its too late.

I take a massive, PAINFUL, PAINFUL shit, all over her parents comforter.

No, you aren’t understanding. I mean large. Huge. IMMENSE. Take your largest shit and multiple it by forty-two and you’ll have an idea of what flew out of me.

And gents, when I say flew, I don’t mean “I pooped.” I mean “projectile”. I mean “hurricane force winds hitting an umbrella stand”. And due to my condition, it comes out as a large, dark brown, smelly harpoon.

I know it hit her. I didn’t see it. She ran screaming “OH MY GOD OHMYGODOHMYGODEEEEEWWWWWWWW” but I always imagined that, due to her position, it hit her right in the chin. Or at least the tits.

I would like to say I got up to go after her. But I heard the bathroom door shut and I just lied there. The smell hit me after a few seconds. It smelled like someone rolled a cat in shit and threw it into a tire fire. I looked down and saw, to date, the largest bowel movement I’ve ever heard of laying on the bed. Then I noticed the blood, and when I did, I noticed the pain.

Apparently the fact that it was so large caused it to rip my ass a little bit (thought I was bleeding from the inside. This little doctors trip the next day is what taught me of my condition). There was a small pool of blood where my ass had been. A final reminder of the exact place and moment I lost my virginity. I will treasure this memory for all my days.

I grab my shit with my hands and go to the downstairs bathroom. I throw around 1/3 into the toilet and flush, fearing any more will clog it and only add to my already significant woes.

I stand there, holding 2/3’s of my biggest shit of all time, feeling a trickle of blood flow down my leg, trying to ignore the sharp pain stabbing my rectum. I find myself wishing I had a photo of this.

Anyway, I finish flushing my baby, clean off my hands, jam toilet paper between my cheeks (I skipped the bandaid) and went upstairs. I could hear my girlfriend sobbing from behind the bathroom door. I decided not to say anything to her and just keep moving. The smell in her parents room was abysmal. Its like when you take a shit and walk out of the bathroom you think “hey not so bad today,” but then you walk back in to grab your magazine and go “HOLY SHIT!”. It was one of those moments.

The scene is burned behind my eyelids for all time. My life. My shame. My very first time smelled like a pile of dead babies. I quickly got dressed since the heat from ten thousand candles was making the room feel more like a port-a-potty. I was aware enough to grab the comforter on my way out and drag it downstairs to their washer. Also the top and bottom sheets since the blood had leaked on through all the way to mattress. Still no sign of the GF but at this point I considered it a blessing.

I jammed in the washer with 3 loads worth of detergent and set it on spin, knowing that not even the hand of God would save these linens, let alone Tide and Snuggles.

Then I left. I avoided my GF’s calls for days until she came to my house. We had a long talk about what happened. Talk being synonymous with “breaking up with me because I shit on her”. And it was all over. She promised not to tell a soul and I don’t THINK she ever did. She was probably as ashamed as I was about the whole deed. But I will always this happening as the most embarrassing thing that has ever happened to me.

RELATED: The Gentlemen Defecation Chronicles

A gentleman hardly considers his outright market domination and boardroom brilliance labor-intensive, yet he still makes the time to celebrate the hard work of the office-drones. As the final holiday of the summer season, a gentleman uses Labor Day parties to retire his summertime, sartorial ensemble. Sporting an immaculate seersucker jacket, a flamboyant shirt and his most seizure-inducing madras pants, a gentleman — over the course of an uproarious cocktail party — will strut his stuff like a pink flamingo, making ribald small talk with fellow party goers and staining said getup with booze, condiments, and hamburger grease, before tossing the tarnished threads into a massive beach bonfire, around which he dances drunk and naked, shouting in indecipherable tongues that only the Gentlemen Gods themselves can fully understand.

BaptistBandit: haven’t seen you in ages
BaptistBandit: how’s tricks?
DoctorWu: everything’s running smooth
BaptistBandit: smooth? your life? i don’t believe it
BaptistBandit: no craziness?
DoctorWu: zip. zilch. nada
BaptistBandit: psshaww
DoctorWu: srsly, i’m trying to cram in some quality work and make something of myself before 09 runs out and i hit 30
BaptistBandit: please, 30 is when you start making something of yourself
BaptistBandit: BUT you close out your 20s with drugs and booze and debauchery and generally making a mockery of your complete existence as a human being
DoctorWu: oh well in that case I did that over labor day weekend
DoctorWu: where my actions lead to me getting temporarily dumped by lindsay
BaptistBandit: yes!!! go on…
DoctorWu: lindsay’s folks have a place on nantucket and they throw some big bogus end of summer blowout
DoctorWu: and she wanted to go up to partake in their waspy shenanigans
BaptistBandit: did you oblige?
DoctorWu: yes, reluctantly
BaptistBandit: reluctantly?
DoctorWu: i hate all the dick heads up there, reminds me of boarding school
DoctorWu: plus i have bad memories
DoctorWu: last time i was there was with you and john dooley in college
BaptistBandit: hahahaha when we dropped acid and road those beach cruisers and you thought the road was coming at you in waves
DoctorWu: uh yeah, remember i tried to hang ten by standing on top of the cross bar and then ate shit and basically broke my face?
BaptistBandit: HAHAHAHAHA it was a girls bike, that’s why you fell, the cross bar was sloping, no way anyone could stand on that thing
DoctorWu: yeah i know…
BaptistBandit: well whatever, dont act like lindsay had to twist your arm to partake in a free weekend at the beach
BaptistBandit: i spent labor day with emily’s family, who are fucking southern baptists
BaptistBandit: happy now?
BaptistBandit: i mean say what you will about wasps but at least they booze down
DoctorWu: true
DoctorWu: ANYWAY
DoctorWu: i packed all this trady gear i scored at a thrift store to surprise/embarrass lindsay at their big party
BaptistBandit: delightful
DoctorWu: and so the afternoon of the party, with the caterers setting up shop and her parents already three sheets to the wind
DoctorWu: i waltz down their big staircase in a pink polo, a sear sucker jacket, tasseled loafers and madras pants
BaptistBandit: wow, you musta looked like joseph and the amazing technicolor dream coat
DoctorWu: oh it was beautiful
DoctorWu: to quote 25th hour, I looked like an optical illusion
BaptistBandit: hahaha
DoctorWu: she did not find it funny (we had been fighting the whole weekend already, but that’s another story)
DoctorWu: told me I looked like an asshole and that I should go change
BaptistBandit: wow, she didnt even laugh first?
DoctorWu: nah she’s been pretty humorless lately
DoctorWu: anyway, i told her that i was just trying to fit in and make friends and that me and my ensemble would be staying and getting drunk together
DoctorWu: and that we’d be at the bar if she felt like apologizing
DoctorWu: she of course storms off and I — staying true to my word — make for the bar
BaptistBandit: you are a man of truth and honor!
DoctorWu: they had a blender so i took it upon myself to exclusively drink pina coladas
BaptistBandit: how selfless of you
DoctorWu: well, i wanted to stay true to the whole island/festive vibe
DoctorWu: so after about three or four hours of sinking these and making conversation with all the old buzzards flappin about the place
DoctorWu: i decide to go find lindsay and bury the hatchet
BaptistBandit: uh oh
DoctorWu: and where do I find her?
BaptistBandit: where?
DoctorWu: on their front lawn with all her old guy friends from summers on nantucket who are…
DoctorWu: …and i am not making this up…
DoctorWu: playing a pickup game of lacrosse
BaptistBandit: hahahaha holy shit what douchebags
DoctorWu: yeah dude, they actually brought their sticks to the party
DoctorWu: who does that? or better yet, who still plays lacrosse after college?
BaptistBandit: indians?
BaptistBandit: the guys that beat us up in high school and scored all the chicks we masturbated to?
DoctorWu: true
DoctorWu: anyway, there’s lindsay cheering them on like its a goddamn pep rally
DoctorWu: and she’s sitting on this dudes lap and playing with his hair
DoctorWu: which just adds insult to injury cause you know how self-conscious dudes with full heads of hair make me
BaptistBandit: oh fuck that shit, that’s some cold blooded bull shit!
DoctorWu: yeah he was some fucking chief
BaptistBandit: did you lay into her?
DoctorWu: no, far from it. i just did an about face, walked back inside, went behind the bar and grabbed 1/5 of vodka, put a tenner in the breast pocket of the bartender and walked down to the beach
BaptistBandit: woa, that’s stoicism right there
DoctorWu: you bet your ass…but i wasn’t done yet
BaptistBandit: yes!
DoctorWu: i get down to the beach and there’s these kids
DoctorWu: early 20s prob, crowded around like this little hibachi grill they’ve got in the sand
DoctorWu: they’re drinking and grilling burgers and letting off little fire crackers
DoctorWu: so I ask if i can join
DoctorWu: they tell me to pop a squat
DoctorWu: and there’s this hot chick
DoctorWu: and she sarcastically asks me why i am so dressed up
DoctorWu: i tell her i’d been the guest of honor at a major party
DoctorWu: she laughs and asks what it was for
DoctorWu: so i go into this long and elaborate story about how i live on the other side of the island
DoctorWu: the poor section
DoctorWu: and how these big developers were going to bull doze my family’s neighborhood and put up condos
DoctorWu: but that i found this treasure map and that me and my buddies saved the neighborhood by finding this pirates treasure
BaptistBandit: hahah you told her the plot of Goonies?
DoctorWu: hahaha yeah, she loved it
DoctorWu: they all did, they ate it up
DoctorWu: at this point i was done with my vodka and so they gave me beer and broke out their weed
DoctorWu: so i decided to kick it into overdrive and get super fucked up
DoctorWu: details are patchy
DoctorWu: but i remember trying to lead them in some call and response song, dancing around the grill, trying to make the flames on the hibachi bigger, taking off my shirt, rubbing charcoal on my face like war paint
BaptistBandit: HAHAHA HOLY SHIT
BaptistBandit: did they anoint you as their king?
DoctorWu: no
DoctorWu: next thing I know I am all alone
BaptistBandit: you scared them off?
DoctorWu: must have
BaptistBandit: how long were down there for?
DoctorWu: no idea…hours
DoctorWu: and then suddenly lindsay is storming up to me, screaming
BaptistBandit: hahaha about what?
DoctorWu: that the party is almost over, how I missed the whole thing, how rude i am, that i looked “fucking nuts”
DoctorWu: i’ll give her that last one, i did…
BaptistBandit: HAHAHAHA i am fucking dying picturing you like some shirtless, be-gutted witch doctor in madras pants and war paint trying to talk yourself outa the dog house while black out drunk
DoctorWu: haha you nailed it! that’s what i looked like
DoctorWu: but here’s the best part
DoctorWu: when we finally got back up to her house’s deck i couldnt make it another step, or rather i refused and laid down (this was all told to me the next morning during a very awkward breakfast)
DoctorWu: so two of her lax-loving guy friends had to carry me into the house and upstairs so she could put me to bed
DoctorWu: i guess i was screaming for them “to take their hands off me”
DoctorWu: thank god the parents were already in bed
BaptistBandit: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA i am CRYING
DoctorWu: and i find out in the morning that the dude who’d grabbed my legs
DoctorWu: got vomit all over himself
BaptistBandit: WHAT?
DoctorWu: yeah, apparently i’d vomited all over my pants when i was down on the beach and nobody had noticed it cause it just blended in with the madras!
BaptistBandit: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
DoctorWu: boom! got him with a sneak attack!
DoctorWu: vomit on your fingers, how you like me now?
BaptistBandit: that is too good
BaptistBandit: but you said the break up was temporary? lindsay actually forgave you?
DoctorWu: yeah, on the amtrak train back to penn
DoctorWu: i think it was around mystic
DoctorWu: went back to brooklyn and had sex on my futon before my roommate got home
BaptistBandit: wow your life is so awesome and yet so depressing
DoctorWu: i know…
DoctorWu: oh well, back to work!
BaptistBandit: hahaha good talk

Waking up day after day with a foggy monocle precariously wedged into his zygomatic bone affords the gentleman a perspective on the world that is both wise and prescient, a permanent outlook of the future that demands excellence and foresees nothing but successful tomfoolery. Though jumping to hasty conclusions and making seemingly-brash judgement calls may be off-putting to his layman peers, the gentleman’s logic is always revealed as sound at the conclusion of his reasonable argument. Thankful indeed is the friend of the gentleman, who would have otherwise settled for much less had he been left to his own devices.

BeerMan: yo, want to go to a bar tonight after work?
Gentleman: that sounds perfect, what strip club should we go to. Passions?
BeerMan: no, i mean just a bar bar, i can’t afford a strip club
Gentleman: you’re right, Passions is a little too upscale for a Tuesday. How about Mother’s?
BeerMan: no dude, i don’t have any cash, i can’t go to a strip club. I have 300 bucks to lastme till the rest of the month. I just want to get a few beers
Gentleman: they have beers at Mothers. Plus, they have ladies derobed. You don’t have to spend any more than you want to.
BeerMan: that sounds good now, but after five beers i’ll be running to the ATM to grab all that 300 bucks, and then starve for the rest of the month
Gentleman: no you wont
BeerMan: yes, i will
Gentleman: ok yes, you will
Gentleman: but what if you just spend 100 bucks tonight and get so drunk that you’re incredibly hungover for the rest of the week, thus eliminating drinking from the schedule for the next four days
Gentleman: plus, you could do something nasty with just a little bit more cash that will give you the moral hangover necessary to want to stay in for the rest of the month, thus spending no cash (except for pizza)
BeerMan: somehow, somewhere, this is making sense
Gentleman: so, i’ll see you at Mother’s, right? 7-8pm is happy hour with free apps too. So that’s even MORE economical
BeerMan: i’m basically saving money by doing this.

When the weather heats up, there’s nothing a gentleman prefers more than shedding his top coat, donning his Bermuda shorts and saddling up at an outdoor bar to drink copiously alfresco. Knowing, however, that he must first earn his thirst before doing any whistle-wetting (and being fully aware that his license is still suspended), a gentleman will embark on a most vigorous, calorie-burning bike tour whose finish line is the wrought iron gates of his favorite beer garden. Coasting into the establishment and dismounting his two-wheeled steed, the gentleman is greeted by the cheers of fervent fans, who hand him a constant stream of lovely lagers and gratis greyhounds. Sinking beverage after beverage into his amply belly, the gentleman begins presiding over the afternoon like a professional athlete conducting a drunken press coverage. But no matter how awe-inspiring his antics become or how much his drinking companions protest, the gentleman always makes sure to cut himself off before the sun has set so that he may complete a final victory lap home on his 10-speed racing machine.

BiffBeerStrong: jesus what happened last night? 
DrunkDomestique: you don’t remember? 
BiffBeerStrong: woke up in my clothes, late for work, with bicycle grease stains all over my pants
BiffBeerStrong: the last thing i remember from yesterday was drinking outside in park slope
BiffBeerStrong: when it was still LIGHT OUT
DrunkDomestique: hahahaha
DrunkDomestique: we rode our bikes back to carrol gardens 
BiffBeerStrong: WHAT?! we did? 
DrunkDomestique: yeah, i realized after we got home that you’d been blacked out
BiffBeerStrong: must have been. no recollection of any biking
DrunkDomestique: yeah, totally dangerous
DrunkDomestique: anyway, you were bombing on that single speed racing bike 
DrunkDomestique: slaloming down the hill between 5th and 4th ave
BiffBeerStrong: jesus
DrunkDomestique: then you kept riding no handed and raising your arms in a victory salute like you were in the fucking tour de france
DrunkDomestique: you kept screaming that you were lance armstrong and quoting LL Cool J by saying “don’t call it a comeback” 
BiffBeerStrong: omg, i should have really been aborted 
DrunkDomestique: you also kept flashing your index finger at people we passed and screaming “number 1!”
DrunkDomestique: so we get home and walk in the door
DrunkDomestique: i put the bikes away and you grab a beer from the fridge
BiffBeerStrong: how selfless of me 
DrunkDomestique: you crack it open, sit down on the couch, cross your legs, look at me and very casually say
DrunkDomestique: “how’d we get home?” 

For more gentlemanly biking please do click here. 

No matter how grand his nocturnal gallivanting, any gentleman who switches to blacked out autopilot before the night is through immediately awakes the following morning in a panic-stricken sweat, wondering what sins his white gloved hands may have committed. Springing to his feet, he quickly checks his person for blemishes, scars, extracted organs and STDs swarming his genital area. Once the gentleman gives himself a clean bill of health, it’s on to more pertinent matters, such as searching his room for pools of vomit, squatting vagrants and even dead bodies, as well as signing, sealing and mailing his stack of preemptively penned apology notes to friends, family and prominent city officials. However, there are those rare blackouts when a gentleman achieves utter perfection, when his seemingly incapacitated self miraculously crosses every “T” and dots every “i,” collects Get Out Of Jail Free cards at every corner, dazzles, delights and deceives, only to awake hours later, eager to enjoy the fruits of his unconscious labors. It is these once in a blue moon mornings when a gentleman can kick back and proclaim, “Damn it feels good to be a gentleman.”

BigBlackout: got so shit hammered last night
BigBlackout: btw
RegaledRoommate: hahahahaha
BigBlackout: i cannot even tell you
BigBlackout: game over
BigBlackout: i woke up in the thompson hotel
RegaledRoommate: shut the fuck up
BigBlackout: this morning
BigBlackout: like what the fuck?
RegaledRoommate: you are hilar
BigBlackout: hahahahhaa
RegaledRoommate: I guess that makes sense, cause I don’t remember hearing you come in last night
RegaledRoommate: did you just go check in?
RegaledRoommate: or was someone staying there?
BigBlackout: i checked in the with this girl at 3 AM apparently
BigBlackout: “do you have any bags sir?”
BigBlackout: no
BigBlackout: no i do not!
RegaledRoommate: you are my hero
RegaledRoommate: so proud…wiping a tear away
BigBlackout: on sunday night no less
RegaledRoommate: good lord
BigBlackout: i woke up this morning, ordered an omelet to my room, didn’t eat it, checked out and went to work
RegaledRoommate: hahaha, well done
RegaledRoommate: i take it there was sake involved in this?
BigBlackout: there is always sake involved in nights like that
BigBlackout: sake @ bond street
BigBlackout: lots of it
BigBlackout: it is the crazy juice
RegaledRoommate: hell yes
BigBlackout: they were pouring it like it was fucking water
RegaledRoommate: naturally
BigBlackout: and it went down so smoothhh
RegaledRoommate: always does
RegaledRoommate: i thought maybe you were calling in sick
RegaledRoommate: turns out you were just calling in awesome

While it’s true that a gentleman can conjure up any number of reasons to justify his drinking, he always jumps at the rare opportunity to imbibe in the name of a good cause. For example, should a pub crawl be orchestrated for the benefit of cancer research, a gentleman will selflessly set out on his mission, embarking upon the arduous day of drinking not with the goal of getting drunk, but with the goal of swilling enough booze to actually cure cancer itself. Pushing his body to the absolute limit, a gentleman will imbibe to the fullest regardless of the price his body is sure to pay later; persevering through the pain, he tells himself, “this is not about me, it’s about saving lives.” In fact, so commited is the saint-like gentleman to his one-man-Mayo-Clinic cancer-curing battle, that he’ll actually spend the preceding weeks calling friends, family and business associates and asking them for monetary pledges to fund his brave pub crawl.

AverageJoe: What did you do this weekend?
LanceDrinkstrong: too much, my body is in withdrawel
AverageJoe: sounds about right
AverageJoe: details?
LanceDrinkstrong: You know that Crawl for Cancer Pub Crawl?
AverageJoe: Yeah…it’s a blast
LanceDrinkstrong: I got morning drinks with some friends before the crawl… not a good idea
AverageJoe: haha never is
LanceDrinkstrong: but Gray Hounds taste so good
AverageJoe: Your lips have to be chapped as shit
LanceDrinkstrong: It hurts to talk and it looks likes I have been making out with sand paper
LanceDrinkstrong: anyway, so by the time we go to the first bar i’m already partially brown’d out
LanceDrinkstrong: and it was 10:30 A.M.
LanceDrinkstrong: allison’s* brother helps run the crawl and had all these free ticket for pitchers
AverageJoe: Damn that’s nice.
LanceDrinkstrong: so by 12:30 i was full tilt BKO’d, cause I don’t remember anything after that
AverageJoe: hahaha you are such a retard, you always get drunk too fast
LanceDrinkstrong: I know but I supposedly stayed on the crawl till 5:00
LanceDrinkstrong: at which pount I somehow teleported to allison’s* parents house
LanceDrinkstrong: cause that’s where i woke up
AverageJoe: ha! I hope you drove
LanceDrinkstrong: No thank God, but you know how I’ve been known to sleep/drunk walk?
AverageJoe: Oh shit…
LanceDrinkstrong: Uhhh… yeah
LanceDrinkstrong: i guess allison was upstairs getting ready and I was passed out face first on the family TV room couch
LanceDrinkstrong: I somehow wander into the living room, pull my pants down like a 4 yr old and start pissing every where
AverageJoe: Hahaha LOL
LanceDrinkstrong: i woke up mid piss not knowing where I was or why my pants were down. there was piss everywhere
AverageJoe: Hahahahaha please tell me they walked in on you.
LanceDrinkstrong: You know those dreams you have when you’re naked at school?
AverageJoe: Haha yes
LanceDrinkstrong: that was the feeling that went through my entire body
AverageJoe: crying right now
LanceDrinkstrong: so I started hearing noise upstairs like someone was heading down
AverageJoe: uh oh
LanceDrinkstrong: so I run into the kitchen and rip the whole roll of paper towels off the wall
LanceDrinkstrong: but it wasn’t enough — I needed Bounty
LanceDrinkstrong: I clean up much as I can before she gets down. I thought I did a pretty good job of hiding it at the time but I really didn’t
LanceDrinkstrong: I pissed in the hallway too…didn’t even see it.
AverageJoe: Busted!! you’re a wet bandit! you leave your calling card
LanceDrinkstrong: Totally…She walked down and sees the piss puddle and me standing next to it
LanceDrinkstrong: and he knows my history of Sleep Pissing and she goes
LanceDrinkstrong: “Holy shit, are you kidding me?!”
LanceDrinkstrong: and in that moment guess who walks in?
AverageJoe: her dad?
LanceDrinkstrong: haha, no. Rebel, the family’s fucking choclate Lab!
LanceDrinkstrong: i immediatly pointed at it and very firmly said “bad dog”
AverageJoe: hahahaha, WOW. did she buy it?
LanceDrinkstrong: she’s skeptical, but i’m sticking to that story
LanceDrinkstrong: and i’m pretty sure Rebel isn’t saying shit, he’s got my back!
AverageJoe: god bless that mangy martyr

A gentleman and his automobile have long been a beloved staple around town. Zipping this way and that, fishtailing around tight turns and tooting his horn as he passes cheering townsfolk, the gentleman driver cuts quite a handsome figure with his elbow cocked out of the cab, his scarf flapping in the wind, loosey-goosey radio jingles humming on his hi-fi and a fun-loving flapper shifting his gear shaft. In fact, the awe-inspiring sight of a gentleman and his racing coup is enough to impregnate housewives and cause their husbands to feel like they were 16 again. Glorious indeed! Such is his unwavering commitment to his four-wheeled partner-in-crime, that when the gentleman isn’t out challenging local law enforcement to drag races on main street, he can be found tinkering with his prized vehicle’s Italian chassis and rubbing down its shark-like fins with a baby diaper. Given his boy-like love and devotion to the vehicle, you can only imagine the gentleman’s distress when a member of his own tribe disgraces his beloved chariot motorcar!

Brother: WTF did you do in my car last night?
Brother: i’ve been waiting for you to get online so i can yell at you
Sister: uhhh, what are you talking about?
Brother: when i let you borrow it last night for your “dinner date” i told you to be careful with it
Brother: as i had a sales call and would probably be driving around clients this morning
Sister: i was!
Brother: oh yeah?
Brother: then what was a used condom doing in the back?
Sister: what?
Sister: gross!
Brother: you have no idea how mad i am, the client noticed it
Brother: i’m about to have a FUCKING meltdown
Sister: pfff please that wasn’t from me!
Brother: sure
Sister: you probably left it in there
Brother: i’m 32 years old, i don’t have sex in my car anymore, i do it in my house
Sister: Ha! when was the last time that happened?
Brother: fuck off, honestly just SHUT THE FUCK UP
Brother: when i let my little sister borrow my car i don’t expect her to have sex with a random guy in it
Brother: i’m letting you live rent free while you get things worked out and this is how you repay me?
Sister: oh fuck off you saint
Brother: really? REALLY?
Brother: that’s all you have to say about this
Sister: well even if i did do it, which i didn’t, you should’ve at least applauded me for practicing safe sex
Brother: you’re getting it cleaned professionally tonight, i dont care how broke you are
Brother: how the fuck are these clients going to take me seriously when there’s a fucking used condom in my car?
Sister: i’d worry about upgrading from a Chrysler Lebaron first
Brother signed off at 12:32 PM