So I roll into my first Yoga class. I have no idea what to wear to this gig so I go with the black wife beater, Wild Card Boxing Club t-shirt, Everlast hoodie and Quik boardshorts. You know, the height of Fashion for Yoga G Set. Or at least that is what I think it should be.
As I step into the arena, I mean, the waiting area, I see a fly girl that is as hot as the bullet that went into Abe Lincoln. So what do I do?
I go and sit next to her and say, “hello”.
She smiles and says “hello” back.
The atmosphere is very relaxed and subdued, but I get a good back and forth dialog going on with her. She can tell I am The G.
She is down. I will swoop her after class on the real.
I grab a spot in the back, just like when I was in school, because I have no idea what the f*ck is going on.
This was actually a good move because I can spock all the fly girls in the class. And it is basically all girls.
Minimal guys, only two others. The competition is non-existent. One guy is probably suspect and the other is softer than a soft serve cone in Venice Beach in August.
Street-hardened, well-traveled, International Playboys that survived The Extacsy Wonder Gang Wars, like your humble author, these guys are not.
We bust out the class, and I did pretty well actually. The fly girl teacher asks me, “Was that really your first class?”
When it ends, I feel great. I almost want to yell, “Let’s all get some cocktails and have a smoke!”, but I decide that it would be inappropriate in the Yoga Dojo.
Then the fly girl that I was talking to at the beginning of the class just gets up, rolls up her mat and splits.
This is a topic I am not at all unfamiliar with. In fact, cooking and swooping is a mainstay for me, especially when I am in places with weak nightlife like The California Police State. California also has the benefit of great ingredients for cooking, so it works all the way around.
Roosh busts out a little step by step:
1. Execute the move only on date two or beyond. A girl will most likely not accept you dinner date offer after only talking to you for an hour at the bar. For her to have a date in your house, a minimum of two face-to-face interactions must be achieved before she’ll want to come over.
2. You must have at least kissed and slightly groped her at the previous meeting. The move is done when the next logistical step is sex, which usually falls on date two or three. Otherwise what will happen is you waste the move to get no more than a kiss.
3. Pre-sell the date. If you’re at the end of a first date where kissing and touching has happened, say, “How about next time we do dinner at my place? I just learned how to cook a new dish.” She will be noncommittal, which is fine, because you’re just planting the seed so that she begins to accept the idea of coming over. There’s no need to iron out the exact time or date. Contact her in a couple days to make the plan.
4. Don’t start cooking until she arrives. There are two reasons for this. First, you want the cooking process to help you put in “face time” where she gets comfortable in your home. Second, you want her to start drinking while her stomach is empty so the booze (usually wine) has maximum effect. After eating, the alcohol will barely make a dent in her decision-making apparatus, so get her drinking as much as you can before the meal. Therefore it’s good to have meals that take at least one hour to prepare. To encourage drinking, try to stock your house with her booze preference, which you should know from your previous meetings with her.
5. Cook something you know. Don’t make the mistake I made several years ago by planning an elaborate three course meal that had me more focused on the food than the girl. It also showed that I was trying to impress her, which causes most American girls to lose attraction. Instead, cook a basic meal that is edible. If it’s pasta with Ragu sauce, then so be it. I usually cook rice with chicken and vegetables, a light meal that alcohol can punch through like a bulldozer. If she makes fun of you for such a simple dish, sarcastically apologize that you’re not a gourmet chef.
6. After dinner, get her on a surface where sex can occur. I like couches. It’s not hard to start banging there and then move to the bedroom. Many guys make the mistake of suggesting to watch a movie after dinner, but by the time it’s over she will have sobered up. Instead, put on The Weeknd, sit on the couch, talk, and then start kissing. After a bit of this, when you’re sure she’s aroused, get her straddled on top of you and start taking off her clothes (shirt and bra first). Have a condom already in your back pocket so that you don’t need to disturb the action by getting up to retrieve one. If you don’t have a couch, give her a “tour” of your room and put the music on there.
However, I don’t really “Pre-sell” the date. I just tell girls whats up. I call them up and tell them to come over because I am cheffing up a masterpiece. I always tell them to wear high heels as well. For aesthetic purposes.
Also, the whole “I usually cook rice with chicken and vegetables…If she makes fun of you for such a simple dish, sarcastically apologize that you’re not a gourmet chef.” doesn’t really fly in the circles I run in.
Maybe some free-range Roasted Chicken a la Zuni Cafe in San Francisco but that’s about it.
But here is what I bust out when I want to swoop fly high-end girls, The Shrimp and Linguine Swoop Move Recipe:
1. I usually start by popping a bottle of Spanish Red and bust out a quick Caprese Salad. (No need for the recipe here. Just get some fresh mozarella or burrata from the little Italian market down the street and some heirloom tomatoes, Sea Salt and fresh Basil. I usually use Grape Seed Oil in the place of Olive Oil for style points. You should look into it). I also usually strip down to the wife beater, for old-school style points, and I don’t want to splash any Olive Oil on my Custom Suits.
2. Make some Fresh Linguine. Save some of the Pasta Water. Throw on an old-school G Italian Track (for symmetry) to set the mood:
3. While the water is boiling for the Fresh Linguine, crisp up some Pancetta, Capicola or some Prosciutto di San Daniele. Or all three. Put it off to the side. Maybe throw on a Latin Track and dance with her for a minute so she feels the vibe:
4. By this point, she is probably ready to be swooped. And many times, I swoop girls at this point. If I want to “carry” my opponent a few more rounds, I will do this: In a pan, heat up some Extra Virgin Olive Oil, crushed Red Pepper and freshly minced garlic. Let it work it’s magic.
5. Throw in some Lemon Zest and let it infuse into the oil.
6. Throw in some Jumbo Shrimp. Now when I say “Jumbo Shrimp”, I don’t mean that wack Jumbo Shrimp they have in your hood. I am talking about Shrimp way bigger and fresher than you can get. The Shrimp I get, you have to have connects direct with local fisherman. Work on your connects and you can get to the level you need to be someday.
7. Rip up some Organic Basil and throw that into the mix holmes. Smell it. Enjoy an elegant high, fly pelican fly.
8. Spark up a smoke and take a big glup of Vino.
9. Toss in the Fresh Linguine you have already cooked with a little Pasta Water you saved from earlier.
10. Add a little Salt and Pepper to taste.
11. Throw it on a Plate.
12. Decorate plate with some more ripped Fresh Basil for color.
13. Crumble up the Pancetta, Capicola or some Prosciutto di San Daniele all over the Pasta and Shrimp. The colors are straight up Bellisimo.
14. Add a little Olive Oil.
15. Grate a little Fresh Parmesan.
Knock out punch.
If you make this dish and you can’t swoop the girl you are trying to swoop, Next her, because there is no way you are going to swoop her.
Swooping fly girls at the 7-11, is just like mountain climbing: you have to put your time in.
What my old school crew and I would do is park the drop top Cadillac at our local 7-11 and just post up. Thankfully, there was a bar next door to our local 7-11 so girls would always come out of the bar to buy smokes or some crap.
We were just like crocodiles in wait for zebras, girls would come up and we would bite like the crocs do in The Gremeti River, Serengeti, Tanzania. “Crocodile Game” if you will.
Chronic Smokes and 40oz Dreams
In between girls rolling up, my crew and I would just chill, take monster hits of Chronic and take huge pulls of well concealed 40 oz bottles.
You would be surprised how many fly rich beach girls would open us with, “Do you have any more weed?”
Game on. Then we would just transform into the Original Game Spitta.
It amazes me how you hardly ever see young G’s chilling out in the open smoking Chronic and Drinking Malt Liquor any more. I really don’t know what is wrong with kids these days. Maybe it’s the video games. Maybe it’s Facebook. Who really knows?
Either way, if I saw kids posting, smoking and drinking at a 7-11 today, I would probably throw them on the pay roll and mold them for the future.
We can always use more International Playboys of The Apocalypse.
Anyways, I am starting to confuse myself.
Before I get too off track, here is a little story from back in the day when fly girls hit me on the Pager like my name was Stojaković to explain how it’s done:
I was chilling with my clicka at our local 7-11 smoking Chronic and drinking St. Ides when we saw a super fly girl get into an argument with her boyfriend outside the bar next door. It got pretty heated and the guy walked away in a huff.
The girl was older (about 27-28 I am guessing) and a mad fly blonde girl. Dressed to the nines.
The super fly girl rolled up to the 7-11 and she walked right past us and ignored my advances.
My homeboys were heckling me because I blew it. Or so they thought.
I just leaned back against the Cadillac and re-sparked up another Chronic Roach.
I could tell she was pretty heated from the argument with the guy earlier, but she had a very seductive and enchanting look in her eyes.
As I killed my Chronic Jay, she asked me with dilated pupils, “Do you have any more weed, I could really use some right now”.
Although we were all holding Chron (as always), I replied half jokingly since she dissed me earlier, “I do, but it is at my crib close by.”.
I thought she was going to laugh and diss me again, (keep in mind this girl was hotter than Venice Beach asphalt in summertime in a long form fitting dress and high heels) but she said, “Let’s go. Your driving.” and threw me her keys.
I looked at the keys: Porsche
Smooth. (And not one of those lame ones. A legit one. Payed for by her boyfriend no doubt).
I grabbed her hand and I replied, “Let’s roll” and started walking away while giving a wink to my crew who all were flabbergasted.
We rolled to the G-Spot, for a smoke session and swoop session. Illmatic.
Still maybe the best blower of my life. (And not to sound cocky or anything, but she has long competition to be measured up against, so to speak).
She needed me to drop her and her ride off, so we split.
As we pulled out of my block, I passed my friends rolling back from the 7-11 and gave them a loud honk as they gave me the “jealousy finger”.
We rolled a few miles into the sickest houses in the hood by the beach. I am talking don’t even step unless you have $3 mill min. (And that was in those days, nowadays, some go for $25 mill an up, of course).
We pulled up to a super sick crib and she said, “This is it…”
2. On that note, always tell girls when they come to meet you to wear high heels and a skirt. If a girl meets me with Ugg Boots and skinny jeans, I don’t care how fly she is, I am ditching her. I have an image to uphold after all. And I have to draw the line somewhere.
3. Find a good spot. The beach. A park. An alley. A Mediterranean courtyard or Veranda. Use “views” to your advantage. Read A View To A Swoop, for a full breakdown.
4. Swoop. Just bust it out. Keep an eye out for Cops though. Especially in The California Police State.
However, like 6 or 7 years ago, one of my friends rolled over to my crib on New Years Eve and said, “We are rolling out tonight”.
I said, “You already know the only night I won’t go out during the year is New Years Eve. I have been out 12 of the last 14 nights swooping mad girls. Where were you? Don’t bring this weak sh*t to me”.
He responded, “You will want to go out tonight. Our friend XXXX has got this club locked down. Mad girls. We are rolling.”
I cracked a little, “No issues getting in?”
“None” he said.
“You sure you got it locked?”, I said.
“No doubt”, he said.
“Ok, let me call my driver. I am not f*cking around with catching cabs on New Years. Too many wack people out”.
Fast forward a few hours and we get to the club.
Full Mayhem. Fire Marshal there. I should have guess it.
“Call your boy, who has this place “on lock”. He should be able to get us in, right?” I told my friend.
Fast forward 10 min.
His buddy who supposedly had sh*t on lock came out of the club and said, “There is nothing I can do, I am really sorry Michael, Fire Marshall and all, I promise I will make it up to you.”.
I should have known. In fact, I did know, and I was almost frothing at the mouth.
“What should we do now?” my idiot friend said.
(Side note: my friend actually is smooth as f*ck. Real strong resume. Probably a top 50 player in all of America. Still, he was really throwing up airballs that night).
I take control of the night:
“We are going to my ‘Local Bar’ AKA The Gentleman’s Club that I have on lock. “I need a drink. Let me call my driver again.”
Fast forward 10 minutes.
We arrive at my Gentleman’s Club, slap five with the valets, say “what up” to the hostess girl (free entry of course) slap five with the bartender and settle in for a cocktail.
We both look around:
We are the only two customers in the place.
And about 18 dancers working.
9 girls to one. Solid ratio.
Let’s just say a we had better things on the agenda that night than a “New Year Kiss”.
One way to stop this from happening is to tell girls after you swoop them, that you “hate” celebrating holidays.
You see, girls are completely brainwashed by society and “love” holidays.
Ever met a girl that didn’t absolutely love the holidays? Yeah, me neither. They don’t exist.
Telling a girl that you “hate” holidays is somewhat like telling a little kid that the Easter Bunny isn’t real; it blows their whole foundation up.
After the shock waves settle, girls start viewing you as “not relationship material”, which is exactly what you want them to think.
And let’s face it, American Holidays are weesh.
Lets’ break a few of them down:
New Year’s Day/Eve – If you really want to party, you don’t need society to tell you when. And it’s better to do it on a day when every dork is partying and The Police State is in full force. New Years Eve very well could be the only night of the year where I won’t go out at night.
Thanksgiving Day – I like turkey as much as the next cat, and I love mashed potatoes like any good half Irish kid does, but I can have a big meal with my family anytime.
Christmas Day – If you really want to give a gift to someone, you can do it August 1st. Or March 12th. Or…you get the broken picture.
April Fool’s Day – Kind of funny. Also, kind of tired.
Chinese New Year – Maybe would be smooth if you were in Hong Kong or Macau or somewhere. In America? Weesh.
Cinco de Mayo – Phony holiday created by the beer companies. And I can’t stand Tequila (drank a whole bottle to the brain as a kid and I still can’t even smell the stuff). I will pass like Jim McMahon.
Halloween – If you are a “Monster” like Cody, everyday is Halloween.
St. Patrick’s Day – Green beer? Come on. And this is from someone who’s Father was born in Northern Ireland. Belfast.
Valentine’s Day – Might be the worst of the bunch.
This all being said, I do dig holidays in foreign countries. I love the week-long Spanish Festivals in Summertime. However, America is such a Police State that outside of Mardi Gras, we don’t have any week-long, all-night party holidays.
Travel Bum Show: The Cuba Prostitution Documentary
“Cuban women can take a compliment without sneering at you as though you offered them your entire soul.” – Andrew Lindy
A friend of mine recently sent me The Cuba Prostitution Documentary by Andrew Lindy.
This cat obviously has talent. It is pretty damn good.
It is not a documentary about “prostitution” Cuba per se (and I don’t mean Thomas Keller’s restaurant Per Se either), as in the guy pays money in exchange for sex, it is more about the cat trying to pick up girls in Cuba.
I have been thinking someone needs to do an Anthony Bourdain-style travel show for the swooping girls set.
It sometimes makes me wish I could get in front of a camera and bust something out. It would be probably the dopest video show on the Internet. But I never would for a host of reasons.