Five Things (Rules for Sex Edition)

These rules are written from a male point of view. That's because they are MY rules and I wrote them.

Rule 1: Don't bang drunk chicks. Reason 1) How can you really claim consent? Reason 2) Was it her attracted to you, or was it old Jim Beam showing his bi side again?

Rule 2: Don’t stick your dick in the crazy. Reason 1) Because a psycho will go psycho on you. Reason 2) YOU NEED ANOTHER REASON?

Rule 3: Protection! Use it, carry it, live by it. Protection is your friend. Reason 1) STDs suck! 2) Unwanted pregnancies also suck.

Rule 4: It's not a race, the person who crosses the finish line first doesn't actually win. Reason 1) Your partner might also like to achieve orgasm. Reason 2) A reputation for being a minute man is harder to shake and more damaging to your ability to perform than an untreated case of the clap.

Rule 5: A gentleman never discusses. A scoundrel will tell all at any moment. A gentleman scoundrel will hint and explain bits if asked, but always leave an air of mystery.

Etiquette: Finding a corpse in your bed

When one awakes, or returns home, to find the shell of a former person in their bed, one should never panic. First, make sure the person in front of you is actually dead. If they aren’t, you need to move to a different section of the book. Depending on your feelings toward them, one may either save their life or finish the job with a table lamp. It is for reasons like this that we always suggest one keep a heavy, metal bedside lamp.

A corpse in one’s own bed is never an ideal situation. If one must have a dead body kept around, which we don’t suggest you do, one should keep them in places that aren’t intimate to one. Of course the first thing to do upon finding (or making) a corpse in one’s bed is to ask oneself some questions.

- Do I know the deceased?
- How long has this been here?
- How did they die?
- How did it get here?
- Why my bed?
- Did I kill them?
- Is this something I did during one of those horrid black out periods?
- Should I leave the country and change my name or is this no big thing?

When one has answered these questions, at least given oneself a cursory answer, the proper disposal becomes and issue.

If one is sure that the body has been placed by accident or by enemies, simply call the proper authorities or a trusted removal service and let them deal with it. That is what they’re there for after all. Only a lunatic would keep a dead body in their bed and if one has a clean slate legally, then one will be all right. There may be some unpleasantness to deal with, but one can sort those rat-bastards out later.

If you believe you may be responsible for the current state of the corpse, then measures will have to be taken. If one committed the killing at the behest of voices in one’s head, now would be a good time to take their advice for disposal. The voices are usually right in these matters and it would be a disaster to stop listening now.



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Interesting Facts: Zebras

The zebra is actually a kind of cat that went vegan in the 15th century and traded in its claws for hooves during the War of the Roses. They kept their distinct stripy pattern however, because it looked cool and allowed them to lord their fashion sense over other animals on the plains.

Zebras are well known in the field of research as being amazingly good at First Person Shooter video games, but rubbish at JRPGs. They’ve been used extensively to test the latest games in the FPS market and one recently won the Tour De Shooter contest over 300 humans and an orangutan in a zebra costume.

New Cocktails: Good Fairy

A good fairy, rather than just a green one.

I invented this cocktail while staying in England with a pair of Parisian girls. It would be inaccurate to say I was “with” them exactly, but it wouldn’t be correct to say that nothing went on between the three of us. We were there for reasons beyond simply enjoying ourselves though, you might have read about the diamonds going missing. The largest Diamond Heist in English history tends to get noticed. I was annoyed, to say the least, because I don’t like my exploits to make the papers and that one did. However, as I was never officially implicated, I can discuss the matter now.

None of that is important, what is important was that I invented this little drink as something to pass the time between waiting in that farmhouse for The Greek to arrive and actually going into action. It’s a strong little drink, but then, they were strong girls.

2 measures Absinthe
2 measures Blue Curaçao
1 measure White rum
1 measure Orange juice

Put all in a cocktail mixing glass with ice. Stir with a novelty swizzle stick. strain into a champagne glass and serve. Be careful though, you may find yourself on the run from Interpol by the end of the night.

Interesting Facts: Belgium

Despite what you may have been told, Belgium is not actually a country. It is a loose confederation of City States who don't actually like each other, but are even more dedicated to the idea that they don't want to be considered French. Mapmakers simply called the place "Belgium" after the waffle, which is actually known as a Belgiumed waffle since the deeper divots in such a products are called belgiums.




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Old Cocktails: Gimlet

A Gimlet is a very simple cocktail, but it still demands to be respected. There are some, like Terry Lennox, who say it should be nothing more than half gin and half Rose’s Lime Juice. Others describe it as gin, lime and soda. Some even suggest fresh lime juice and simple syrup. However you choose to do it, the gin and lime is the constant. This is the recipe I was taught while I was in India, doing unspecified things for a client that won’t be named here.

The bar wasn’t one of those big ones you hear about, not a Raffles by any respect. It was a dusty little bar, with a dusty little man, who I eventually got to tell me how to make his famous gimlet. How I got him to give me the recipe is between the two of us and his gambling debt.

Two Measures Bombay Sapphire Gin (As cold as a banker’s heart)
One Measure Rose's Lime Juice (Chilled, but not to any metaphorical extreme)

Pour into a shaker with ice and give a good hardy shake. Strain into a classic old fashioned glass and garnish with a lime slice. Enjoy with your favorite portrait of the fourth President of the United States, James Madison.

Tales I Tell: A month in Bangkok

I know they don’t call it Bangkok in Thailand, but it’s what we called it when we were there. That was an interesting month to say the least. That was when I was traveling with those fellows I met in Greece. They weren’t Greek themselves, that was just where we met. I believe that they were an Israeli-Sino alliance group, although I must point out that I was very drunk at the time. I can’t honestly say I remember what we were doing there, or what my role in the group was supposed to be, again… drunk.

What I mostly remember are the girls from the group, because I almost had feelings for one of them. Her name was Biyu Goldenstien, and she was very likely a Mossad agent with a mixed heritage. Most of the group was made up of Chinese Jews, what with them being an Israeli-Sino alliance group. She was beautiful, and had very nice legs which could crack a man’s neck with a flick of her hips. The other girls were also beautiful, but there was something special between Biyu and myself.

There was something, and it relates to something that happened in Bangkok that year, some sort of crime, a theft or something? That’s the problem with Varinthip, which is a sort of Thai whiskey. I leaves me able to operate a bank vault (apparently) and able to fight off fifteen guards (allegedly) but leaves me more or less unable to remember actually doing it.

Sadly of course, it all came to an end. The details are fuzzy, because of drunkenness, but I do remember being told that they needed to find a goat for some reason, and then someone shot me. I woke up in an Israeli detention center, being screamed at in Hebrew, which was pointless because I didn’t understand it at the time. I tried explaining to them that I was unlearned, but that only brought misery as they soon brought in someone who could speak English to shout at me.

I did get out, because I always do, but that’s a story for another day.