Titcurtains and Social Disorder: if you don't look good naked, you don't look good

I've picked up on the latest in female fashion while perusing the streets of Chicago and, to a lesser extent, Kalamazoo this summer, so I've noticed that the infamous "titcurtain" is not only back in full force, but it's become the default form of fucking dress for most girls on campus and in the cities. Not that I give a shit about fashion, but I'm feeling far less rustling in my jimmies this summer, and I'm witnessing a whole lot more bitchy attitude from girls who haven't earned the right to be bitches.

One maxim I live by is: if she's covering something up, there's something there. And so, I assume any girl donning a billowy poof over her torso is doing so, not out of a naively misplaced sense of modesty, but as a calculated component of her attire with the intention to shroud the extra gut fat limping off her waistline. After all, the healthy female figure is what gets blood boiling and boners popping, not a pair of legs jutting out of a nondescript ball of boring, so I see no reason why a girl would intentionally handicap herself by looking as bland as she can.

But you know what? That's okay. I'm not here to tell anybody how to dress or how to live. You know, I'd actually think of it as her doing us all a favor by not subjecting the world to the the sight of her bad habits manifest as a grotesque sack of cheesy blubber jiggling off her midsection, but, look, if you're going to dress humbly then...

be humble.


Another maxim I live by is: if you don't look good naked, then you don't look good. So, when I see a girl with rows of cellulite hanging off the backs of her thighs, and she's wearing a loose sleeve as a shirt because she subsists on cheetos and bacon grease, I don't think she's earned the right to be acting like she's got the status of a runway model.

Most titcurtainers (for lack of a better term) I meet have convinced themselves that if the world can't see it, it's not there, and so they abuse the privilege conferred to them by clever clothing designs to act like that hot bitch they've always dreamed of being. Step back a second there, sweet cheeks--I'm not fooled and, believe me, people aren't as stupid as you think they are. If I were duped into buying your implication that there's a glorious, secret treasure underneath that polyester parachute, I wouldn't be writing this and I wouldn't hearing guys (and some girls) complain about how awful they're making girls act.

I mean, I know America has a weight problem, but is it really this bad? Have things gotten so out of hand in the US of A that even young girls in their prime years of physical attractiveness are squandering them with bad diet and poor fashion sense? And lest I make this sound like a polemic against women rather than an illumination of a social problem, I will say that guys are also to blame for amplifying the crescendo of this summertime Bitch Wave. I feel like a lot of them are fooled by the titcurtain shroud and they're feeding the egos of girls they usually wouldn't bother with if they were keen on the deception at play.

So stay cool this summer. If you're going to wear a titcurtain, then by all means, wear the fuck out of it. Just realize that it doesn't give you the right to act like a bourgeois cunt whose shit smells like daffodils and honey. You're human like the rest of us, don't forget it.

Tools

Have you been called a tool before, but were unsure whether your detractor was just jealous of your sikk style or highlighting traits about you that you failed to pick up because of your feeble introspective ability? Well, it's your lucky fucking day, for I've arrived to tell you, the reader, whether or not you're an unsociably aggressive buffoon that people regularly mock.

You might be wondering: "B-b-but Aleph, what qualifies you to judge who's a tool and who's not"? Well, there's no way for you to evaluate my legitimacy to judge you, so just shut your mouth and have a little faith. Just be content to know that a sizable fraction of my my outside-time is spent in one of two places:

1. The gym
2. Y-Bar

Both locales are tool colonies, so they're a subspecies of human that I've grown quite familiar with. I'm also of Mediterranean background, which is where the Art of Toolery was first invented back in 1543 by Toolicus Curliceps.

Toolicus Curliceps: progenitor of modern toolery

Anyway, enough about me. This post is about you after all, so let's begin:

THE TOOL TEST

This is the definitive criteria that will determine whether or not you're a total assclown:

1. Your biceps are bigger than your head: roughly 80% of the time you spend in the gym is dedicated to building your biceps. You do this "for the bitches, bro" and your arms look like birthday balloons while the remainder of your vestige resembles one of Joseph Kony's child soldiers. Congratulations, you've reached the genetic potential of one of the most functionally useless muscle groups in your body.

2. You think your minimum-wage job is cool: this mostly applies to bouncers, interns, and other manner of wage-slaves. Somebody's made you dress in a costume and is paying you scraps to do mundane tasks for hours on end. You think being associated with a place other people like means that you're liked by extension, but you're nothing more than a minor cog in a massive moneymaking machine. If your workplace were N'Sync, you wouldn't even be Lance Bass. You're not a special butterfly, you're the dictionary definition of an expendable, organic...well, tool.

3. You believe your mediocre sexual exploits are "epic": you got lucky one night and actually made out with a girl who didn't resemble a burnt wildebeest. Your accomplishment is the stuff of legends and you drone on for days about how you'd have fucked her if only she wasn't on her period, or some other bullshit excuse girls give that you still bought wholesale.

"Sup baby gurl"

4. You look like shit: you wear plaid, have stupid tattoos, and your jeans don't fit. You leave the house on Thursdays with a wrinkled V-neck shirt and offensively stupid hat and tell people not to confuse you with The Situation from Jersey Shore. Yes, I've actually seen somebody do that.

5. It takes you more than 4 years to finish undergrad: your transcript has so many F's on it that it looks like it's about to scream "fuck."

6. You think your unproductive lifestyle is "hardcore": you're 22 years old, still smoke weed on a daily basis, and watch Netflix all day. In your mind, this carefree, spontaneous existence that you buoy with your parents' hard-earned money is the pinnacle of machismo when, in reality, you're nothing more than a manchild.

The Tool Intensity Scale:

After reading the tool test, count how many of the numbered points describe you and apply them to the scale below to figure out your Tool Score:

1-2: Tool

2-4: Big fucking tool

4-5: People audibly laugh when they see you

6: Autistic

Getting a one-night-stand in Kalamazoo

Every 4-6 weeks, a random encounter with a female I don't know escalates into sex. It's important to note that what I mean by "one-night-stand" isn't the hit'n'quit you do on your ex-girlfriend's best friend, your buddy's sister, or anybody else you know on a meaningfully personal level prior to insertion of boner into fishpocket--it's a total stranger, and you will probably spend the next three weeks worrying about whether or not you contracted herpes.

There's been a lot of variance in the scenarios that led me to instafucks. One was Asian, one took about 20 minutes between the time words were exchanged and sex was had, and another told me she never wanted to see me again in her life. However, they all had a few things in common so I'll list them for your convenience:

"Never wanna see me again? A'ight." 

1. Drunk: in all instances, I was teetering between consciousness and blackout drunk. Thanks to some kink in my genetics, however, I don't get whiskeydick. While a lot of people at this point are drowsy from alcohol's depressive effects and physically uncoordinated, I am one of those people who responds to excessive alcohol consumption with unbridled aggression in conjunction with the malfunction of all my social filters.

2. Cockblockers diffused early: potential cockblockers were eliminated from the interaction between an ephemeral fuckbuddy and myself fairly quickly. Cockblockers were too drunk, horny, or stupid to realize what was going on and failed to fulfill their natural imperative to make other people miserable.

3. She was really horny: obviously.

4. She didn't care if a condom was used: girls these days seem to think that birth control doubles as an STD blocker.

5. Thursday: all of my random fucks were had on Thursday. Don't underestimate the first night of the weekend. Every girl who wants to get fucked gets picked off early and doesn't go out Friday and Saturday because she's already maxed out her SlutCard.

Wrong day of the week, sweety

I'm not going to say that it's in your best interest to get blackout drunk all the time because the odds are against you in the pursuit for anonymous pussy. You might end up emptying your bank account, provoking physical altercations with other sexually frustrated dudes, or destroying property. There is a certain amount of luck involved. Kalamazoo isn't a very big town so the chances you'll find somebody ready to slut it out with a stranger is low.

Also, expect to fuck girls in the 6-7 range in terms of attractiveness. 8-9's are surrounded by legions of dudes trying to fuck them. You need to swoop in on a girl who's under the radar early on in the night while the more aggressive dudes are trying their hand at fucking the five or six hottest girls at Y-bar (and undermining one another completely in the process). If you're wondering about the rest of the attractiveness spectrum, 10's don't exist and 1-5's don't deserve mention.

Steves

Expect to be interrupted by a couple Scavenger Steves while in the process of transitioning the party to a more private location. The moment these types of guys see a girl exhibiting sexual interest in anything or anybody, they instinctively swoop in like starved hyenas. As I laid out before, the key to diffusing this type of cockblocker is to ignore their advance and allow them to crash and burn under the weight of their own desperation. Fortunately, guys who don't get laid have a hard time hiding it in their body language, and 99% of Scavenger Steves don't get laid.

I hope this helps. I know this has essentially been a primer for guys so, to my female audience, I apologize. If you're looking for a one night stand, just make sure you have a pulse and no obvious physical deformities.

Sincerely,

Aleph

Kalamazoo Sausagefests: Causes and Consequences Part I

Kalamazoo bars are notorious for being epic cockfests. If I had to pick out the #1 problem with the nightlife here (and many other places in the US), it'd be the gender ratio, so I've decided to dedicate a couple posts to delving deep into what has caused the cockfest problem, what it means for most guys, and how the issue can be resolved. Before I start, chew on these stats for a moment:

WMU undergraduate student population as of 2011: 20,054
Undergraduate males attending WMU: 10,154
Undergraduate females attending WMU: 9,900
Ratio of males to females: 1.03
Source: http://www.wmich.edu/ir/factbook/2011/enrollment/demoug.pdf

So statistics show us that the ratio of males to females at WMU is fairly even, although they are still a little odd considering that most schools in the US have more female students than males. Regardless, the WMU admissions office isn't to blame for the fact that you walk into a penis party almost every time you visit a campus bar.

Kalamazoo Cockfests: an Overview
Take any specific girl at WMU who goes out 2-3 nights a week and observe her behavior in both daytime and nighttime settings. You'll notice a difference that is practically schizophrenic. During the day, she's timid, pleasant in conversation, and high on Adderal. At night she's bitchy, arrogant, and drunk off a fifth of Burnett's Whipped. Someone observing this social binary on the surface might call it an epidemic case of borderline personality disorder.

You've probably already concluded that the transformation of WMU girls from Dr. Jekyll into Mr. Hyde is due to the fact that, at night, she's slapped on globs of make-up, fitted herself into high heels, and has drank herself into a self-deluded haze. Wrong. Those factors have certainly contribute to the problem, but the primary cause of this mass-metamorphosis is the the skewed gender ratio at night venues gives girls an unusual level of male attention

                                           Your typical WMU girl during the day...

                                             ...and the transformation at night


So what, exactly, constitutes a cockfest? Technically, it's any social gathering where there are more guys than girls. It is an environment where the girls are the de facto prized commodity and guys must actively compete against one another to bone them. Cockfests make an unattractive girl bangable, an average girl "hot," and turn the attractive girls into bitches. Here's my Sausagefest Intensity Scale (SIS):

1:1 = Normal. There is, hypothetically, one girl for every guy and there's little or no social friction
1.1-1.3:1 = Manageable. Girls get gradually bitchier as it's not apparent that they're being fought over until later in the night
1.3-1.5:1 = Almost hopeless. You need luck or you must be a boss to get a girl to fuck you
1.5+:1 = Why are you wasting your time? Now even the ugly girls are acting like bitches

The following stats are not scientific. I'm not going to sit around and conduct demographic studies of bars for the next six months to appease the disagreeable nerds of the world:

Male:Female ratios of WMU bars on their "big" nights


Wayside Wednesday: 2:1
Y-Bar Thursday: 1.3:1
Grotto Friday: 1.6:1
Library Saturday: 1.4:1

                                           Eerily similar to Wayside Wednesday (click to zoom)


So why aren't girls total bitches during the daytime at WMU? Check the first stats I posted above. The gender ratio on campus is practically 1:1. Girls' egos are not inflated and you can socialize with them like they're (somewhat) normal people. In Part II, I'll give my solution for fixing the gender ratio gap once and for all.

Kalamazoo Nightlife Review: DayGlow

I don't dance unless I've had three too many to drink on a particular night, but I went to Dayglow anyway because it seemed like it would offer a welcome respite from the Kalamazoo bar/club scene. I wasn't sure of what to expect from "The World's Largest Paint Party," and all I had was YouTube videos of past events to use as a reference, so I did a little quick math in my head. I deduced that:

Electronic music+lights+large space+degenerate youth+(alcohol)^2+drugs+gimmick = unusually large shitshow

I tore the sleeves off of an old t-shirt, threw on a pair of basketball shorts, slipped on old shoes, then drove with a companion to Wings Stadium. I got there an hour early, which I think was 8PM, as I'd assumed that there would be a line stretching around the block to get in given the level of hype surrounding the event. I was one of the first people there. It then dawned on me that I was in Kalamazoo, where most kids don't venture out at night lest they've each ingested a fifth or more of Smirnoff, Burnett's, or Rich & Rare.

That said, I like getting to places a little earlier than the crowd because it affords me enough time to get a clear picture of a setting's physical layout, which facilitates navigation in large crowds. Anyway, let's move on...

D A Y G L O W

It was easily the horniest party I've been to in a while. At least as horny as the time I walked in on a Korean orgy while on vacation in Rio. There was about an equal gender ratio and, unless you were really ugly, the majority of girls were willing to grind on just about any guy's semi-erection the entire night. A few of them were also willing to exchange saliva and grab your genitals. There was a gradation of attractiveness and behavioral freakiness as you got closer to the stage, with the ugly, sedentary people in the back, and humans of normal appearance in the front. The exceptions were exhibitionist whores who danced in the back to make sure that somebody paid attention to them.

Every fifteen minutes or so, a machine would jizz paint on the dry-humping hordes below. I actually liked the paint because it had a cooling effect on your body. As you might imagine, even with little clothing on, dancing around hundreds of people indoors is like sitting around inside your car with the windows up in summertime.

There were drugs abound. More than a few joints were passed among Dayglowers, lots of crazed kids were clearly off MDMA, and I observed my fair share of coke-sniffing in the bathrooms. This was all in conjunction with the rest of the crowd who, needless to say, were drunk.

I remember sobering up about a half hour before the party ended, looking in 360 degrees at the manic mob before me, laughing, then walking out. That said, I enjoyed the parts of Dayglow I remembered.

Why Kalamazoo bars fail

The reason behind the quick failure of most of campus's commercial establishments, particularly those in West Pointe Mall, can be summed up simply: high maintenance costs driving owners into closure. Even the bars seem to die and spring up like dandelions. Out of the five bars on campus, only Y-Bar and Waldo's have been around for any meaningful length of time. Grotto and Library are relatively new, with the latter being only a year or so old, and I think Grotto was only opened as early as 2006.

Sadly, the telltale signs of commercial failure are already looming above Grotto and Library. Grotto has glaring maintenance problems, evidenced in the poor plumbing that plagues it week after week, while Library's gotten so desperate that they've started a "teen night," with all the MIP and serving-to-minors risks that brings with it. To make matters worse, Grotto's been dropping its prices while Y-Bar has raised theirs.

                                          What Library looks like Friday nights. Owner is on the right.

So what's the problem?

*Deep breath*...

It's that campus bars are trying to do too many things at once. In a place like Kalamazoo, where citizens aren't exactly bursting at the pockets with dead presidents, you need to limit your establishment's mission to serving one type of client. When you build a swanky, aesthetically pleasing (and costly) place like Grotto, that's intended to function as a restaurant and a "nightlife" bar at the same time, you're not going to bind a single demographic to your establishment. That's a losing formula.

When a chain competitor, like Buffalo Wild Wings, is showing UFC fights and making a killing off its $59.99 pay per view purchase in the form of food and beer sales, Grotto and Library are serving drinks for stingy college students at $2.50. When Y-Bar is inspiring a shitshow with their DJ, Grotto's whimpering by with weak, family-friendly garbage playing off their jukebox. As an anecdotal example, I recently picked the brain of Wayside's manager (the balding Asian dude) and the subject of the profitability of the Wednesday college night came up. He said, and I'm paraphrasing here:

"What do you think? We're serving drinks for one, maybe two dollars at a time. Do you think that's making us money? No, we just about break even, and we scrape even closer in winter when we pay for heating."

                                          Wayside manager pictured here (w/ bouncers)

Mind you, Wayside is one of the oldest, biggest bars in Kalamazoo. So old that my 60-70 year old relatives used to party there in the 1970s, so they know a thing or two about staying afloat in this town.

Even Y-bar is relatively old, having opened up in '98. Wondering why Y-Bar does so well it can raise drink prices while other establishments flounder? Because it only has one identity: shitshow. They don't serve food, don't televise bloodsports, and aren't schizophrenic with their mission. They focus on doing the dance club thing the best they can and they have a  loyal social bloc that goes in a few nights a week because of it. Grotto and Library don't have loyalty because they've done the opposite. They want to be pizzerias and night spots and social hubs all at once. There's nothing special about them, and that's why the only way they lure people in is with cheap drinks. Lower your prices and those clients are yours.

So if you're going to open a bar on campus, what should your strategy be to ensure long-term profitability? I'll sum it up in a few steps:

1. Know your role: Have a vision. Who will go there? College students. What do they want out of your establishment? To get fucked on the cheap with their friends. Don't try to serve students, professors, and their parents all at once. Pick a target demographic and stick to it.

2. Don't spend money on expensive property or aesthetics: I've never gone to a bar on student night thinking "Wow, what an awesome wallpaper design! I can't wait to come back here to drink shitty beer and smack the asses of passerby females"! I'm certain that you could purchase a 30x50x15ft dungeon, get a DJ, serve $2 drinks and people would line up around the block to get in. Not only that, but kids would assign it qualities like "charming," and "hardcore."

3. Be creative: Creativity does not mean spending money. It means using what is available to you in novel, unexpected ways. If there was one aspect of the nightlife market to exploit in Kalamazoo, it's this. Managers are unimaginative and do the same things week after week. Have something as simple as a themed night once in a while and you can easily gain notoriety on campus.

Western Michigan University NIGHTLIFE Review, Part III: The Library

"Hey brah, where ya' headed"?!

"The Library, man"!

"But, brah! It's Totally Trashed Tuesdays, and we just brewed up 40 wasabi-gerbil anus burners to celebrate Steve's dad's vasectomy"!

"Nah dude! Not that library, the other Library"!!

"WHOAAAA"!!

*group laugh*

I'm certain the preceding dialogue accurately narrates what went through a geezer bar owner's head moments before he decided what to rechristen the smoldering remains of the former Firehouse. Great business sense there, really. There's nothing like a silly gimmick that patronizes your patrons. 

THE SCENE

Library is like a compact version of Wayside: it's got a classic beer-and-wings sports bar vibe with hardwood floors, booths, and low-hanging ceiling lights, but also services the inclinations of Saturday night's drunk, horny freaks with its dungeon of a dance floor. The contrast between the bar concourse and the dark abyss nearby emanating dubstep thumps is probably similar to the defining line between purgatory and the first level of Hell. Upon walking into Library, it may come as a surprise that the interior is fully-lit, and that idiosyncrasy is its distinguishing factor when you compare it with other W. Michigan Ave bars like Y-Bar or Grotto. You can actually see people, which I think explains why the venue is so prone to turning into staging ground for fisticuffs and multi-party brawls. Affording drunk dudes the opportunity to make incidental eye contact ("You lookin' at me, bro"?) is akin to lighting a match in a closet packed with buffalo farts.

I've laid witness to a diverse array of battles at Library; some of which have the potential to one day be re-enacted on the History Channel or, at the very least, serve as inspirational fodder for a match on Monday Night Raw. Library has been host to race wars, bloody stomp-outs, and the instance where I saw a recently knocked-the-fuck-out kid slump face-first into bathroom piss-water. Not that these scenarios reflect positively upon the establishment, but I'd expect a little more class out of a venue that charges me a whole two dollars for cover.

Speaking of which, it's an unnecessary hassle just to get through the door on Saturday night: two photo ID's and two dollars. Do you know how long I've got to rummage in my pockets to get all of that? For a place that services a fucking "teen night," why are they so paranoid about underaged rascals sneaking in with fake ID's? Oh, I figured it out: the ID check is actually about making sure you're in college. Like Y-Bar, they've concluded that restricting their clientele to college students is the optimal business model, as we are more docile and have a vast pool of financial aid money to blow.

While I've got my reservations about the entrance policy, I will admit that it really does influence the crowd that shows up. It's the same social cohort that Y-Bar lures in, except guys have exchanged muscle-shirts for plaid and girls don jeans instead of skirts. Expect a male: female ratio of about 1.5 guys for every girl, which is a technical sausagefest but decent for Kalamazoo.

On a brighter note, at least the girls who go to Library on Saturdays are attractive.

SERVICE

Library is notorious for understaffing to pinch pennies. Even with four full-size bars, getting a drink takes ages unless you opt to hit up the "cash-only" bar, which would be more aptly named the "tax-exempt" bar. However, only geeks and tools whose parents still check their banking statements carry cash, so I too often find myself waiting for drinks for about as long as it would take a sumo wrestler to finish a marathon. Would it really kill them to staff one more bartender at each bar?

That said, the bartenders are amicable enough when you finally reach them, even though they serve up rail liquor swill with a misplaced sense of pride that I don't quite understand. To contrast, I actually get asked whether I want Jameson or Jack when I order at Y-Bar (if it's early in the night).

MUSIC

Library's bar concourse (the lit area), doesn't have music, which I like because you can actually socialize. The dance floor, on the other hand, is an alternate dimension where half-priced drinks and a mix of top-40, dubstep, and old "classics" have hypnotized clientele into flail-humping sex-zombies. I will admit that I don't spend much time on Library's dance floor so I'm not going to pass judgment on the DJ's music selection.

PRICES

Saturday: half-off drinks. Beers are $2, a double-shot is $4. Unfortunately, the deal ends at midnight which, once again, highlights the miserly nature of the establishment. 

FINAL NOTES

I would say that Library rivals Y-Bar as the top nightspot on W. Michigan Ave if it weren't for the profound level of penny-pinching that has ruined service there. That said, Saturday nights boasts a cool crowd, so I'd recommend it as that night's place to be.