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… Continue reading »

Descending from the highlands and breezing into random towns on a whiskey-scented gust of hope and charm, the traveling sales-minded gentleman is quick to become the talk of the town amongst the locals. Upon his arrival, the township jumps to attention and rushes to prepare their businesses to meet the high expectations of this new dashing globetrotter. The red-faced hotelier prepares his finest suite while the red-haired bar madame chills her tallest beer glasses, and the young ladies of town busy themselves with exotic perfumes and creams while the remaining local laymen prepare their wits for whatever games the gentleman will wish to play. And whether the gentleman is coming to town offering magic beans and the latest velocipede technology or if he is just there to barter with locals for cheap land grabs, he had better be greeted with the cheeriest of smiles and the cutest of curtseys, and the fucking red carpet had better be rolled out and made of seal or grizzly skin if the town wishes for him to ever return.

BizTraveler: strange scene in Prescott AZ last night man
BizTraveler: got into town late, after a mini work out- shitty treadmill/small pool swim
BizTraveler: i gather myself and prepare for a late night cocktail at the town’s prestagious ‘Whiskey Row’ – a rather far gallop from my luxury suite at the travel lodge
BizTraveler: only one bar open- in this ‘bar strip’ that my conceigere tells me is “so hot this time of night!”
CubeFarmer: one would presume you’d find a cavalcade of widget salesmen and gizmo merchants in such an apt named district?
BizTraveler: one bar- one bartender- and serving only one other person- the bartender that just closed the town’s other bar next door
BizTraveler: elbowed up to the empty bar, fashioned myself in a fancy stool, ordered a crown straight- my drink of choice on the road right now
CubeFarmer: what time of night is this taking place?
BizTraveler: 11 at the latest. 1030 more likely
BizTraveler: the bar maid tends to my cocktail…charges me 2 schillings for the spirit and goes back to the far corner where the other tender- who happens to be wearing a suit and suspenders- presumably  from the one of the classier joints in town, and begins to take turns doing lines of blow off their table all the while not even lookin up to see if i notice.
BizTraveler: of course im workin the blackberrry catching up on the days events, checking email, chatting with my gf, etc
BizTraveler: and she comes up to me and stares me up and down and says, “you arent a narc are you?”
BizTraveler: this is after 2 drinks and 20 mins of me watchin them do blow 10 ft away
CubeFarmer: just waitin to make ur move… ah the romance of life on the road! its like something out of a kerouac novel
BizTraveler: i assured her i was not..so what does she do?
BizTraveler: invites me to join her and her suspended friend in this late night blow session
CubeFarmer: they don’t want to come off as poor hosts
BizTraveler: not at all..i of course decline as im not into doin blow with a couple of 50 year olds in a strange town in a stranger bar. she must have took this as a sign that i was in fact cut from the ‘law and order’ cloth
BizTraveler: she then declines to refill my highball and asks me if i mind leaving her place of business
BizTraveler: i got kicked out for not doin lines of coke in a bar…thats one for the books!
CubeFarmer: im sure upon arriving back to your hotel you gave the concierge a nice pat on the back for his insight into the tourist scene
BizTraveler: so its 1130?…im out on the streets of prescott…two hudlums-skinheads with tats on their skulls… couldnt have weighted more than 100 lbs each, and about 5ft even in stature, polietly ask me, what the fuck am i doing in this part of town. i’d normally laugh these lil knuckleheads off, crack their crossboned tats together and proceed to enjoy the evening, but i quietly said ‘just callin it an evenin sirs…’
BizTraveler: got into my car and promptly headed back to my hotel, thanked the man behind the desk for his ‘tip’ and caught the conclusion of Wild Wild West on TBS
BizTraveler: the lure of the american road!
CubeFarmer: ahhh Wild Wild West, nothing like the Fresh Prince duking it out with a giant mechanical Spider Monster in the 1800s to put a capper on a surreal evening

Since the dawn of moving-pictures, gentlemen the world over have happily congregated with their everyman counterparts in the darkened confines of cinemas to share in the communal experience of modern day moviegoing. And, whether he’s MCing his own erotic film festival while his old pal Howard Hughes loads the projector with his uncut, tentacle-like finger nails, or simply hunkering down at the local theater for the latest summer blockbuster, our hero approaches each film with the unbridled glee of a true cinephile. However, the gentleman’s enthusiasm can sometimes be misinterpreted by the emotionless, spoon-fed drones he’s forced to view amongst, and as he toasts the film’s heros with his smuggled highball, boos its villains and exposes himself to its delicious damsels, his actions, attitude and general zest for the picture-story unspooling before him may offend the rest of the audience, who demand the highly-vocal and thoroughly hydrated gentleman be dragged from the premises by the scruff of his neck.

Critic: you see inglorious basterds? 
CinematicSipper: part of it
Critic: woa that bad? you walk out? 
CinematicSipper: nope, thrown out is more like it
Critic: hhaha whaaaaat? 
CinematicSipper: yep. i am 27 years old and i got thrown out of a movie theater with my man-boy buddies. fml 
Critic: how did THAT happen? 
CinematicSipper: went saturday night with david* and billy*
CinematicSipper: brought a thermos full of G&Ts we’d whipped up prior to departure (this was an alcohol induced decision as we had been drinking most of the afternoon already) 
CinematicSipper: and it was a BIG THERMOS
Critic: uh oh, lil’ too much loud mouth soup? 
CinematicSipper: well
CinematicSipper: if you’re name is david abramowitz*, then yes, yes it was Continue reading »

The convivial spirit of the modern gentleman is inspiring indeed. While his voracious appetite requires abundance, his refined palate dictates what edible pleasures will be consumed at any whim. Whether he is on day five of a Eurasian holiday feasting bender or simply staggering sans sleep to his favorite Vegas early-bird buffet, a gentleman always demands culinary excellence, and allows nothing but the freshest of vegetables, the youngest of animals and creamiest of soufflé to enter his yearning maw. So when presented with a fine array of delectable delights that may include phallic-shaped baked goods, a gentleman will flip his tie over his shoulder, raise his dignified pinkly and nom with the fervor and accuracy of a googly-eyed, furry whatchamacallit.

GamblingGent: i am playing mega millions. pot is at 250 mill
GamblingGent: that would pretty much solve most of my current dilemmas
CookieMonsieur: like your lack of private air transportation dilemma? Or your one-ply toilet paper dilemma?
GamblingGent: I would assume
CookieMonsieur: well wow. good luck to you
CookieMonsieur: in other news want to know how much my life sucks?
GamblingGent: how much?
CookieMonsieur: Trish made cookies for her sisters bachelorette party this weekend. they are shaped like dicks
CookieMonsieur: and i just went on a cock cookie bender
GamblingGent: hahaha
CookieMonsieur: i am literally sitting on her couch, unemployed and shoving my moth full of cookies that look like dicks
GamblingGent: hahaha. maybe arrange the rest so it doesn’t look like you just ate 5 of them?
GamblingGent: dick arranger!!!
CookieMonsieur: nope. i killed them
CookieMonsieur: i ate all the dicks in the house. they are all gone
GamblingGent: is she going to be pissed that you ate all the cookies?
CookieMonsieur: probably. I don’t think she can make more dicks between now and tomorrow.
GamblingGent: so on the cookies, were there black jimmies on the balls part for the short and pricklies? white frosting “islands of hawaii” on the plate?
CookieMonsieur: hahah
CookieMonsieur: there were black jimmies all over the balls actually — that was the best part, cause there was cookie, frosting and sprinkles all layered
GamblingGent: haha teabagger
CookieMonsieur: jesus and this is the most productive thing i have done all day
CookieMonsieur: this sucks. god damnit!
CookieMonsieur: dang nabit
CookieMonsieur: i need a beer
GamblingGent: i’ll meet you for a beer if you want. i’m headed to Dave’s for a fantasy draft thing. that starts at like 8
CookieMonsieur: oh hell yeah i will get a beer
CookieMonsieur: i’m all hopped up on sugar coated dick cookies
CookieMonsieur: and i just reached into the refrigerator and slurped down two dill pickles.
CookieMonsieur: WTF is going on with me?
GamblingGent: hahaha don’t worry about it, it’s like they said in Superbad, all the best food is shaped like dicks
CookieMonsieur signed off at 5:47 PM

RELATED: You’ve Been Served by a Gentleman

Sometimes a gentleman just isn’t himself and it takes a grotesque amount of gallivanting, a liberal amount of booze and of course the loyal services of a fellow gent-in-arms to resuscitate our hero and get him back in the saddle again. And what a glorious sight it truly is to behold a gentleman rediscovering his gentlemanliness! Returning to the strict path of the gentlemanly arts, we watch as our protagonist takes his first fledgling steps as if he were but a wee chickadee, and, lo and behold and a few dozen highballs later, he’s suddenly soaring like a majestic Condor skimming the glacial peaks of the Andes Mountains as Paparazzi snap their cameras like a bunch of giddy ornithologists trying to document the sublime existence of this rare creature. Remember, in a city awash with scenesters, schemers and similar buffoons, only a gentleman can rise above this flotsam of fools and transform a regular weekday evening into his own personal comeback tour.

Pronto: i feel like shit
Pronto: and i stink to high hell of whiskey
Pronto: the underlings surely suspect something
Pronto: but good god man i am so happy you started drinking again
Pronto: last night was a thing of beauty
Pronto: a revelation!
GrownDanger: well, i don’t want to say i was totally awesome last night, cause that would just sound arrogant…
Pronto: fine
Pronto: i’ll say it
Pronto: you were totally awesome last night
GrownDanger: awwww shucks…
Pronto: if i could, i’d transport over to your office right now and plant a big old kiss on your ugly mug
GrownDanger: hahahahaha
GrownDanger: yeah it was a fantastic night
GrownDanger: it felt like a victory lap or sorts Continue reading »

Be he blacked out on Bombay Sapphires at his illegitimate, crossed-eyed son’s t-ball championship game, bored out of his mind whilst letting heads roll in a boardroom battle at his Bolivian cocaine refinery or just benevolently granting breath-taking sessions of sexual-bliss to all females who grovel at his seal-skinned high tops, you can always count on the gentleman to switch to autopilot when forced to endure the less-than-agreeable public demands that unfortunately go hand-in-hand with his princely position. Should a gentleman be rudely awoken by his old lady, a ghastly wench who slips her greedy hands beneath his silk sleeping trouser shorts, straddles his ample torso as if he were a Kawasaki Ninja Motorcycle and demands that he satisfy the foul-smelling region betwixt her thighs, you can bet that our narcoleptic hero begrudgingly performs the deed in his sleep!

SexatoneManiac: gotta stop talking to me in your sleep if you don’t wanna have sex in the middle of the night
SexatoneManiac: you woke me up last night
SexatoneManiac: and said “WHAT HAPPENED!?”
SexatoneManiac: and i said “what the hell are you talking about?”
SexatoneManiac: and you said “the Massachusetts Turnpike”
MidnightGrooveArtist: and i said what about it?
SexatoneManiac: and you said “What does that have to do with driving?”
SexatoneManiac: and i said i have no idea
SexatoneManiac: and then you said “it smells like fish in here!”
SexatoneManiac: and i asked why?
SexatoneManiac: and you said “because of your vagina!”
SexatoneManiac: i am not sure why i wanted to have sex with you after that, b/c i should have smacked you

Whether he’s following up swigs of tequila with the tart taste of fresh limes on the back of his Zihuatanejo-bound mule, making a fortune swindling locals with his secret snake-bite syrum (Flintstones Vitamins), or just generally boozing his cares away with jeroboams of champagne and crates of beer, a gentleman always has the cure for what ales you. Therefore, while simpletons and other noodles of the first rank busy themselves chugging Pepto Bismol and electrolytes, the gentleman takes the workday hangover in stride, knowing full well that he can rely on his vast knowledge of disaster-management, as well as his creative problem solving skills and deep sense of maturity, to cure his queasy stomach.

Porniatrician: I had a dream that we were doing an awesome amount of blow last night
DreamSchemer: I had a dream that I came home from a party tipsy and stoned on pot brownies, and descended into a porn-world of fantasy on my computer
Porniatrician: Hahah
DreamSchemer: Then I woke up and realized it was no dream
Porniatrician: it was reality
DreamSchemer: it was the ultimate truth
DreamSchemer: I also had a dream about a spaceship passing me while I was standing on a castle
Porniatrician: Hahahaha
Porniatrician: Then you woke up and hijaked it
DreamSchemer: I’m like regressing or something
Porniatrician: yeah i can sympathize 
Porniatrician: every time i am hungover now i crave pornography 
Porniatrician: like i will be at work and actually toy with the idea of cruising the web for smut vids
DreamSchemer:  hahaha you would get fired
Porniatrician: i know i would, and still i entertain the idea…
Porniatrician: it’s like i have regressed back to my 15 year old self who — despite his complete and utter shame — is forced to satiate his smut longings by purchasing issues of Club Confidential at his local mini mart
DreamSchemer: i was a Club International man myself
Porniatrician: i mean, what’s next? am i going to suddenly wake up after a heavy night of drinking feeling like a 9 year old again? 
Porniatrician: am i going to suddenly have an unshakeable urge to play with GI Joes? 
DreamSchemer: hahaha if you do call me, i’ll being the air craft carrier over

A gentleman is well-known in the corporate world as a polite, gregarious and generous businessman with deep pockets, sound investment strategies and an utmost sense of financial propriety. Thusly, he is a well-sought partner for lucrative business dealings of all types, which are ideally struck over frosty-cold afternoon libations. However, in addition to his pecuniary prowess, a gentleman also harbors a deep sense of protection for the society in which he galavants, and whether sober or sodden, he can always be counted upon to come to the rescue of any damsel in distress, any kitten caught in a tree, or any otherwise dimwitted denizens that may be facing peril.

HeroGent: yo
CubeDude: yo
HeroGent: dude,
HeroGent: i am a hero
HeroGent: just came back from a business margarita lunch
CubeDude: yeah, they take you? or you take them?
HeroGent: they took me. This firm wants us to invest in their development, so I told them we could discuss over lunch, though i had zero intention on actually going forward.
HeroGent: I just wanted an excuse to get out of the office and drink
HeroGent: so during the process of listening to their pitch and then telling them we had no money, i downed three margaritas and a plate of nachos. De-lish.
HeroGent: they were not happy
CubeDude: sounds fucking dastardly, but what’s so heroic about that?
HeroGent: no
HeroGent: the heroics came after lunch as I was lurching back up Madison – had to reset the karma, you know?
CubeDude: go on…
HeroGent: two retarded blind people are at the cross walk
HeroGent: they started walking into traffic right as the light went green
CubeDude: fucking retards
HeroGent: and i yelled “Hey! Stop! Watch out!” super loud. Flailed my arms and such
HeroGent: and they almost got hit
HeroGent: but i totally saved their lives
CubeDude: wow good thing they weren’t retarded, blind AND deaf
CubeDude: otherwise they’d been flattened
CubeDude: but i mean blind AND retarded
CubeDude: double whammy
HeroGent: yeah
CubeDude: i am not sure you did them a favor by saving their lives
HeroGent: i kept them alive
HeroGent: i feel so elated
HeroGent: i feel like a goddamn super hero. That good deed surely allows me to rise up a few rings in the hell i’m headed to eventually
CubeDude: couple more saves like that and you’ll be sitting pretty in some lawn chair in the eternal flames
HeroGent: with a beer in hand and a sausage cooking OVER the eternal flames

RELATED: A Gentleman is a Model Citizen

RELATED: A Gentleman Cleans Up After Himself

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… Continue reading »

Gentleladies are truly wolves in sheep’s clothing. One moment a gentleman may find himself lounging in her canopied bed, sipping a nightcap and helping her locate her diaphragm, and the next moment he’s being sexually belittled by his nubile princess and told to vacate the premises at once. And that’s escaping easily. Should the gentleman do anything to upset the gentlelady’s hair-trigger temper, then he can kiss his love-life goodbye. Employing all technology at her disposal as well as her fleet of cackling cronies and vindictive vixens, the scorned gentlelady puts a pox upon the gentleman’s penis, swiftly rendering our heroic cad a useless eunuch.

VicariousVixen: Dude did you end up hooking up with him last night? He’s hot but kind of a dick.
LorenaBobbitt: Oh don’t worry friend he got what he deserved..After not calling me for a month and even thinking I’d hook up with him is disgusting.
VicariousVixen: Oh shut up, what did you do? You crazy biotch. I can’t even handle the excitement of this..
LorenaBobbitt: So we went back to my place, a little over served. I had a plan…I knew he was banging half the town so I needed some revenge.
VicariousVixen: yea you were drinking scotch on the rocks at the end of the night. Who do you think you are anyways?
LorenaBobbitt: Yea well the Scotch hit the blood real quick because the next thing I knew I was making out hardcore on my couch with the hot doosh.
VicariousVixen: Nice…and, tell me you didn’t sleep with him.
LorenaBobbitt: Well, the hot makeout led into my bedroom and before i knew it, he was out cold snoring and drooling like Rikki Lake at a Krispy Kreme. My plan to seduce and bail failed miserably. Continue reading »