Tag Archive > High Heels

South Beach: Lion of Lincoln Road

» 01 March 2012 » In Dope, Game, Girls, Guide, Nightlife, Travel » 18 Comments

South Beach: Lion of Lincoln Road

“If your trap is attractive enough, the turbulence of your enemies’ emotions and desires will blind them to reality.”Robert Greene, The 48 Laws of Power

“Fortune pays you sometimes for the intensity of her favors by the shortness of their duration. She soon tires of carrying any one long on her shoulders.” – Baltasar Gracián (Spanish Jesuit and baroque prose writer), 1601-1658

After straight up detonating Fort Lauderdale with my friend who runs a Hedge Fund for a few days, I get dropped off in Miami Beach.

I feel lethal, manic, on the verge of frenzy. I am foaming at the mouth. My nose is starting to bleed. I think my mask of sanity is about to slip.

I throw down my luggage in my apartment, hang my Custom Suits and I get the call:

This Super Fly Argentinian girl, who I met at Mint and haven’t swooped yet, wants me to meet her at her clothing store. She is getting off work soon. And she and her Brazilian girlfriend want to roll out with me. There are innuendos of a Ménage à trois. The evening has promise.

I jump in my steam shower for a dose of aqua-therapy. When I step out, a Custom Suit literally appears on my body. I shadow box for a bit. I am ready.

I step out and roll into the CVS on Lincoln Road to grab some chicle. I roll in the line to pay, and a Fly Blonde Russian girl on her cell phone looks at me and mouths “Hi” to me. How often does that happen when a girl is talking on the phone?

I pay for my gum and step outside and light up a grit. I am feeling invincible. I have been sparring a lot. It tends to do that to me.

The Fly Blonde Russian walks out and continues up Lincoln. I quicken the pace, and open: “Do you know which way Sushi Samba is?”, I ask her. (Of course, I know where it is, but it was the first thing that came into my mind.)

“Hi. I do. It is just up there.”, the Russian girl says pointing up Lincoln.

“Wait, my name is Michael Mason.” I say and give her a “two-kisses” greeting. I spit some Street Game and Number Crunch, as I am supposed to meet the Argentinian and Brazilian girls.

Game is on though.

I keep heading up Lincoln and get a text from the Argentinian:

“Are you coming?”

I jump up on the planters of Lincoln Road with Undefeated Gucci Loafers on and yell to no one in particular, “I am Young, I’m Handsome, I’m Fast, I’m Pretty and Can’t possibly be beat!”

Most people ignore me, but some tourists look at me strange. I have a fleeting thought and quickly dismiss them as from Red States.

I need to settle down though and light another smoke. I am checking my phone and smoking, when a Fly Cubana Girl rolls up on a bicicletta. (She is 21 years old.)

She asks me for a cigarette.

Looking down at my phone, I ignore her for a few beats (real artistic), and say, “Sure.” Hand her one. Then say, “You need a light?”

“Yeah”, she says. I bust out a sick reverse Zippo trick for style points.

We start talking. She is fly. Mad fly. No make up on. But then again, I have a thing for Fly Cubanas.

I start walking with her as she rides her bike. She is kind of hipstered out. But still, stunningly fly. You know the type. Since it is kind of awkward talking to her while she is riding her bike, I say, “Let’s have a seat over here”.

I start rapping out in Spanish and English mixed with her and she tells me she is breaking up with her boyfriend.

Perfect.

I am still supposed to meet the Argentinian and the Brazilian (and I get another text), but I want to hedge my bets like only a true International Playboy does. I tell her to go home and change clothes and meet me at Sushi Samba as I have to go to a “business meeting” right now. She is down. When we part (two kisses salutation) I tell her, “Remember, high-heels and a skirt.” She replies, “I know, you don’t have to tell me.” with a pretty girl’s smile. And I haven’t seen a smile that pretty in a while. My nervous system goes haywire for a split second. A drag of nicotine sparks my synapses and mellows me.

My mind is the enigma filled with broken pictures. The spiritual International Playboy can see clearer now.

I move up Lincoln and get another text from the Argentinian. I respond back, “Almost there”.

I finally get to the Argentinian and Brazilian. They are looking dope. But everything is off. I can’t get the young Cubana out of my mind.

I split as they are both being too difficult.

I roll into Sushi Samba and lock the place down as per usual. I met a cool Argentinian kid from Cordoba at the bar and we both start spitting mad Game at all the fly girls rolling by.

I shoot a text to the Cubana:

“Buisness meeting went perfect. Come meet me at Sushi Samba to celebrate”. (Smooth text).

She responds back right away, “Yaa! Getting out of the shower. See you there soon.”

It’s on. Got to like a girl that loves your success. And Glad I hedged my bets like Kyle Bass.

When she arrives, she is a vision of youthful beauty. She looks like a Cubana Pin-Up Model (which actually happens to be her job). We enter through the side door, as I have the doorman on lock. Her her vibe goes from romantic expectation to dreamy absorption to erotic playfulness quicker than a Salsa dance in Havana.

She has shed the hipster clothes and looks stunning in high heels like all Miami girls do.

We hit it off in dope style. She digs the young-dashing-handsome-mysterious-false grinning-soft spoken-with a wild side-well dressed-millionaire-smuggler type vibe that I give off. Like all Miami girls do.

She knows the DJ and tells him to play this track, which just came out at the time:

She dances by herself for me as every guy in Sushi Samba is checking her out. I stand at the bar, smoking a grit, Custom Suited Down; the envy of every guy in Sushi Samba.

She can really dance.

We get a few more drinks and split. She gives a little resistance, but I come with the “Above is the black poison clouds, You only got one life so enjoy it now” type illmatic Futuristic Game that even top players will finally catch on to in 5-10 years. So I’m not really sweating it.

On my exit, I shake a bunch of hands; guys giving me props, and people I know.

Am I Apostle or Beast? Either way, I am Colossal on Streets.

We get to my apartment. The key goes in the door and

Click Here for Roosh’s Day Bang: How To Casually Pick Up Girls During The Day

Click Here for The G Manifesto’s Free Gentleman’s Club Report

The Rest is Up to You…

Michael Porfirio Mason
AKA The Peoples Champ
AKA GFK, Jr.
AKA The Sly, Slick and the Wicked
AKA The Voodoo Child
The Guide to Getting More out of Life

http://www.thegmanifesto.com

M83 ‘Midnight City’ Official video

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How To Swoop Girls In Public

» 28 February 2012 » In Dope, G Manifesto, Game, Girls, Guide, Travel » 3 Comments

How To Swoop Girls In Public

For the last few years, almost every girl I have swooped, I have swooped in public at some point (or multiple points, so to speak).

This is something I have been into since I was a young cub, but lately it is become almost an addiction.

Here are some keys to victory for the fight to remember:

1. It is easier to swoop girls in public in warmer climes. This is easy for me since I spend almost all my time in America in Southern California and South Florida. And when I travel Internationally, I am always where the sun is shining bright. Hell, I usually spend my summer swooping Topless Girls at The Beach. Warmer weather means less clothes you have to take off. Or lift up.

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.

5. This will get girls sprung. Remember to Un-Pick up Girls.

Click Here for Roosh’s Day Bang: How To Casually Pick Up Girls During The Day

Click Here for The G Manifesto’s Free Gentleman’s Club Report

The Rest is Up to You…

Michael Porfirio Mason
AKA The Peoples Champ
AKA GFK, Jr.
AKA The Sly, Slick and the Wicked
AKA The Voodoo Child
The Guide to Getting More out of Life

http://www.thegmanifesto.com

009 Sound System – Space And Time

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American Girls: Ugg Boots VS High Heels

» 20 November 2011 » In Game, Girls, Guide, Style » 11 Comments

American Girls: Ugg Boots VS High Heels

So I was chilling, Custom Suited Down recently in a certain up-market part of Southern California that I spend a lot of time in when I am back on the Nacirema turf.

I was with one of my droogs from way back when we were flipping Beans, talking biz and trading war stories at a pretty dope lunch spot that is pretty hipstered out (but keep in mind this is Southern California so it is kind of pseudo-hipster).

The owner, some top-flight glam hipster cat who everyone thinks is so cool (and unbelievably girls like the guy, or maybe not so “unbelievably” in this day and age) came over to greet us.

He is a fan.

My friend and I are trying to talk dollars and sense and I got skippy in a fedora yapping in my ear asking me where I have been this year and on and on.

When I finally brushed him off so he could go make yogurt double lattes with extra whipped cream, or whatever the hell hipsters drink, my friend, who is a certified International Playboy just like me said, “Typical stay at home American. Minimal passports stamps, that guy. Probably does the Maui-Las Vegas-Cabo triangle and thinks he is making moves…”

I said, “Yeah, just like those cats that move some ounces and think they are causing a crimewave…” before I noticed something that was making me edgy for the last 10 minutes…

Every goddamn girl sitting outside of this “trendy, up-market, hipster joint” are wearing Ugg Boots.

I almost flipped my lid. (I think it is because I have been sparring again. F*ck Halloween. I have been turning into a Monster. I had to spark up a cigarette to calm down.)

This Ugg Boot stuff really has to stop.

Look. I have heard the excuses from Americant girls.

“High-Heels just aren’t comfortable during the day…”

Bullsh*t.

In Riga, Latvia, girls wear high heels on cobblestones. In wintertime.

And I have heard girls say:

“I just can’t move around in high heels…”

Bullsh*t again.

I know an Exotic Dancer that can do this Bruce Lee Move on the stage in High Heels:

So let’s put this to rest once and for all.

Let’s do a comparison.

Which is better?

Ugg Boots?

Or High Heels?

Any questions?

Click Here for Roosh’s Day Bang: How To Casually Pick Up Girls During The Day

Click Here for The G Manifesto’s Free Gentleman’s Club Report

Photo

The Rest is Up to You…

Michael Porfirio Mason
AKA The Peoples Champ
AKA GFK, Jr.
AKA The Sly, Slick and the Wicked
AKA The Voodoo Child
The Guide to Getting More out of Life

http://www.thegmanifesto.com

2PAC – To Live and Die in L.A

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