Yep, the above title is a blatant attempt at stat-whoremongery...and I admit it. ~grin~

So while I did not get to actually meet, in an up close and personal kind of way the aforementioned boobs, I did finally got to meet their owner, Miss Izzy. (the first blog I ever read)

And in another transperant attempt to secure a further meeting, I have to say that she really is as articulate, forthright and secure in herself as she appears in her writings. Plus she is quite hot ~grin~

Ok...enough whoring myself out for stats ~grin~ Below is a nice drink from Paige, and one I would try if I wasn't in the middle of a red wine hangover.

Technorati Tag: The Dogs Name, Miss Izzy, Stat Whore

Lectiones Sacrae Ex Libris Indiana 07:00 11 comment(s)

This week's indulgence is proudly brought to you by the Blokes at the Pub with the generous support of too much red wine which I wish had been served by Girl Friday.(nsfw)

Paige’s Special Margaritas

Ingredients
1 lg. bottle of Jose Curevo Tequila. (you’ll want to make a lot!)
1 bottle of Triple Sec
1 frozen Minute Maid Limeade or 1 bottle of Simply Limeade
1 orange - sliced
1 lemon - sliced
4 limes - 2 sliced, 2 wedged
Corona Beer *the secret ingredient

Instructions
In a large pitcher, add Limeade.
Partake of a lime wedge and a shot of Tequila.
Fill empty Limeade container with Tequila, pour into pitcher.
Ingest second shot of Tequila and squeeze lime wedge into mouth.
Fill empty Limeade container half full with Triple Sec, pour into pitcher.
Make sure shot glass doesn’t spill as you shoot third shot. Bite that lime.
Fill empty Limeade container twice with water and pour into pitcher, try not to spill.
The shot glass is right there next to the orange. Yep, now fill it with the Tequila, no…no…the Teequiiilla, not the Triple Sec. Make sure you don’t squeeze the lime in your…eye. Whoops. *giggle*
Add one Corona to pitcher. Drink the rest of the 6 pack.
Add sliced fruit and ice and chill until tomorrow since you have to recover from making it.

From Paige

Disclaimer: The Blokes at the Pub would like to offer no thanks at all to the management of the Wine Company @ Evans for the massive hangove I feel this AM.

Technorati Tag: The Dogs Name, Blokes at the Pub, Drinking, Bar, Women

Lectiones Sacrae Ex Libris Indiana 06:00 6 comment(s)

Dating wisdom 101: When a girl takes a rain-check on a date, she is telling you “she is not into you”, unless she plans another time right at that moment of canceling she doesn’t want to be seen with you, she has put you in the “friend only” box, and doing her hair really was/is more interesting than going to dinner with you.

There is nothing you can do, if she is not into you, she is simply not in to you.

Smile, say ok or whatever, and then tell her to call you when she wants to reschedule…assume she won’t and get on with your life,

WITHOUT HER.

Do not call her...EVER. (Put the phone down and delete her numbers from your contacts)

She cancelled, all your balls are in her court, and if you want them back then wait for her to call you, if she doesn’t then good riddance, and if she does, then she has had time to think you over and has decided you are much better than the guy she blew you off for…you now have your balls back in your court, you can tell her “no” and your ego, pride and dignity are returned…or you can do what 99% of men do and set a date. If you do this (and you will, I know I do ~sigh~) do not let her set the time, you are available in 3 days for dinner, other than that you are booked for at least a week...you got your balls back, keep them!

Note: Guys never ever take a rain check on a date. A guy could be mauled by tigers, kidnapped by terrorists and he would still arrive at the date 5 minutes early, worried about his dirty shoes and nervous. (or maybe thats just me ~grin~)

Technorati Tag: The Dogs Name, Dating, A Rain Check

Lectiones Sacrae Ex Libris Indiana 06:00 19 comment(s)

Brews & Shots...

I mean let's be, for a second, 100% honest. If you are going to a bar you are going there to drink and if you don't drink then you really don't have any reason being in a bar...it's not a night club, it does not have a dance floor, and while you could argue you are their to socialise...I feel that if you are in a bar and you aren't drinking there is only one reason that you can give to avoid being viewed with suspicion...you are the designated driver.

So apart from that one reason, people are in a bar to drink, maybe to not only drink, but drinking is something they will do...so a bar needs to cater to this particular client requirement, and while the complete range of citris flavoured vodka should be viewed with suspicion a bar must have enough of a range to keep most of the punters happy and provide for the ladies so they too are getting gently lubricated ~grin~

For me this is free poured mixes, ice cold beer (a good selection of domestic and imported, draft and bottles), and a nice range of whiskey...see I don't really need much...I really am a man of simple tastes ~lol~

previous: location, location, location...

next: entertainment

Technorati Tag: The Dogs Name, Blokes at the Pub, Drinking, Bar, My Perfect Bar

Lectiones Sacrae Ex Libris Indiana 06:00 21 comment(s)

I have a mate*, let's call him Joe, afterall it is the name he uses, Joe works for Vandalay Industries, and import and export company involved in the lucrative trade of shipping through the Malacca Straits. He is physically impressive, widely educated, speaks multiple languages fluently and in the dating game in Singapore is rarely without success, be he asking for digits or something more...

...women like Joe and yet here is the kicker Joe is a liar.

He is the figment of immagination created as an alter ego for a friend to both hide the truth and make his profession seem more impressive and thus make his financial attractiveness higher. Everything else about Joe is real, save his career, he grew up overseas, is well travelled, well spoken, intelligent, is multi-lingual and I have it on the authority of female friends regarded as good looking.

When I ask him why he does this? His simple answer is that it works. In his experience the truth of his profession does not excite women, in the competitive world of IB's, Ad. Exec's and Corporate Managers his job does not equate to enough salary to ensure him access to the end of the pool he wishes to swim in.

And so he lies.

Now I am not going to step out onto the branch and suggest that Indy never lies...he does (sort of) though I would argue "selling the product" might be a more politically correct term. ~grin~ In the quest to get the phone number of the attractive girl in the bar I have stretched the truth to make myself more interesting. I think we all do. But I have never lied about who I am...so I was intrigued, would Indy have better success if I lied?

The very plain and simple unscientifically tested answer is yes.

One evening late last year, while out with Joe I decide to put his theory to the test, so I became Indiana, a deep ocean salvage expert called in by Vandalay to either raise a ship they had lost in the Straits that was posing a hazard for shipping or implode the wreck to remove the said hazard. My job was to lead a team of divers to access the cost and feasability of each option. I would be short time contracting in Singapore for a few weeks and Joe had offered to show me around the night life of the city. Now Indiana has in the past done enough work in feilds somewhat related to this that he could probably hold a conversation with an expert and get away with it, but it would be all bullshit, just as I planned to be that night.

What can I say, it worked. I selected the girl and her friend based purely on looks and Joe and I took the intiative sent over drinks and were soon engaged in a conversation with two tourists from another large Asian city. I must confess at this point the idea that I was lying was made easier by the simple fact she didn't live in the same city as I did, and was as a lot of tourists are looking for a good time, some laughs and a story to tell her friends back home...yes, she did give me her phone number...I was lying, and a girl I don't know if I would have succeeded with had I been honest gave me her phone number. Put simply: lying yeilded results.

My concern and the worry I voiced with Joe when we met for a late lunch the next afternoon is the deeper issue and the one that troubles me for guys who lie, what if you like her and she in turn really likes you...what's going to happen when she finds out you were lying from the get go? While she might be on a very shallow level flattered that you went to such an elaborate ruse to attract her interest, I can't help but think she'll label you a liar and wonder why you couldn't have just told her the truth?

* And no, this is not a veiled reference to myself.

Technorati Tag: The Dogs Name, Dating, Lying, The Game

Lectiones Sacrae Ex Libris Indiana 18:00 24 comment(s)

"For example if E@L posted about a cute girl who had electrolysis of her genitalial(alialal) hair, he would be immediatley sterotyped as a gross pseudo-pedophile sex-tourist and fat bald dirty old man… Whereas if Indy posted about such a phenomenon, he would be praised for highlighting crucial self-image issues for the narcissistic liberation of the contemporary female gestalt."
- from E@L here.

Personally I think E@L is being a tad hard on himself, but in the interest of social experimentation and blogging I thought I would weigh in with my 2 cents on the issue of female hair removal. Now I have written how I like breasts, yet if you really knew Indy you would know that he is more a leg and bum kind of guy, there is however one trend that has been largely embraced by women that I am in whole hearted agreement with, and that is the brazilian.

...yep Indy loves to go down (well actually we could if I was honest just leave that statement to stand by itself) however when he does it is simply great to find...well...nothing. Keep the landing strip if you like, but nothing encourages my attention and oral focus more than...well...absolutely nothing.

I really don't know if this springs from a porn inspired visual "norm" or rather has to do with access, no short and curlies in the teeth and yes in some part, the actual visual admiration for something I find beautiful. So at the risk of being insensitive and offering an opinion that is derogatory and a mere reflection of a Male Chavenist Pig, shaving, unless you have very light growth doesn't do it...I am in favour of the wax smooth, let me kiss it better all night, type situation.

Now E@L knows/knew a young lady for whom her desire to keep her self clean in that area included permanent removal (via electrolysis) and I confess my first thoughts were "god bless her"...that sort of devotion to cleanliness deserves to have a man on his knees and praying at the alter of "oh my god" all night. Then he contended that were he to write about his pleasure at finding such, he would be branded a "fat bald dirty old man", while my virtue at extolling this practice as liberating and advancing women's issues would be lauded and commended. To which I don't agree. I am sure there will be some readers who find my pleasure in this painful practice evidence that I am supporting the denigration of women and wish to keep them oppressed through ritualistic and painful beuatification processes that are merely designed to keep her trapped in adolescence and be a financial drain on her freedom. (Yes, I have actually been told this, guess I didn't get lucky that night huh?)

But for better or worse I love it sans hair.

And lest I be tarred with a brush of singularity here, I also believe a guy should trim, and if she wants you to remove it all and is doing it for you, then you should. And before you ask, yes in the past for a woman I loved I have and did remove all regularly...and yes guy's, waxing really does hurt...but her attentions made it all worth while. ~grin~ And so should yours.

Technorati Tag: The Dogs Name, Sex, Brazilian Wax

Lectiones Sacrae Ex Libris Indiana 06:00 17 comment(s)

A week or so ago, E@L challanged that there were topics I could write about in which my readership would extoll my sensitivity and the depth with which I was striving to go to further understand women, and were he to tackle the same topic he would be regarded as nothing more than a dirty old man...so while I have yet to finalise my thoughts of the topic he was talking about...Nat last week threw a challange at me that would put me in a similar situation.

She suggested that if I asked readers to send in pictures of their lacy bits that I would be surprised at the number of my readers who would submit photos of themselves in their lingerie, I disagreed, believing that maybe 2-3* would comply, she suggested a much higher number, I felt the rest would just laugh and see it as a blatant and yet largely pathetic attempt to derive some titilation from readers whom I have largely grown to appreciate and respect.

I told her she was crazy...why, or better yet how could I ask such a thing and maintain any shred of the small amount of credibility that I have? Are my readers merely playthings from which I desire nothing save entertainment? I do confess to some very evil thoughts when I tried to argue this point with her ~evl grin~, some of you are very attractive and the idea of you in lacy bits is not completely without some attraction. (ok lots of attraction...sometimes honesty is such a bitch!)

Then she "double dog dared" me.

Damn.

So it's not my birthday, so I cannot even off that in feeble recompense, and yes I am sure I will be guilty of some measure of titilation...I am after all still a guy (last time I checked ~grin~)...and for what it is worth, you have my word that there will be no public airing of said images...so ladies, please send photos of you in your lacy bits.

Note: Nat, after this there is a very special place in hell for you, and you had better be sending a photo.

* The more I did think about this I probably should have said 4-5, there are more than a few of you who participate in HNT so it's not really a hard ask...I still do not think the number will get anywhere as high as Nat suggested.

Technorati Tag: The Dogs Name, Titilation, Lingerie

Lectiones Sacrae Ex Libris Indiana 06:00 13 comment(s)

This week's indulgence is proudly brought to you by the Blokes at the Pub with the generous support of Cachaca, a relaxing easing introduction provided by James Boags and served by Girl Friday.(nsfw)

Caipirinha (kye-purr-een-yah)

Ingredients
2 tsp granulated sugar
1 Lime (8 wedges)
2 ½ oz Cachaca

Instructions
Muddle the sugar into the lime wedges in an old-fashioned glass.
Fill the glass with ice cubes.
Pour the cachaca into the glass.
Stir well.

James Boags

4.8% alc/vol

"Tasman Bitter pours with a solid body that is golden orange in colour (appearing a touch darker than most mainstream lagers). It produces a good medium beaded head, which leaves a large amount of lacing down the entire glass. A fair amount of carbonation bubbles are present. Tasman Bitter has a faint, perhaps malty, aroma. I believe there is a predominantly malty flavour on the palate, peppered by bitter hop. The flavour is a lot more distinct and robust than the other mainstream Australian lagers. Compared to them, Tasman Bitter actually tastes like a real beer. "

From here.

Indy really couldn't say it any better...

Disclaimer: The Blokes at the Pub would like to offer no thanks at all to the management of any establishment, since we really had a quiet week and explored no new places worthy of mention. Which really means we were all out of the counrty travelling or doing more interesting things like chasing women ~grin~

Note: I am still taking submissions for readers favorite cocktails, with a caveat, any cocktail involving Malibu or Cream will be viewed with suspiscion. The Malibu cause it is just a travesty who's inventer should be lined against the wall, and the cream...ermm...simply because I am not pro-cream cocktail. (There might even be a double meaning there...not that there is anything wrong with that) ~grin~

Technorati Tag: The Dogs Name, Blokes at the Pub, Drinking, Bar, Women, Cachaca, James Boags

Lectiones Sacrae Ex Libris Indiana 06:00 4 comment(s)

A great second date is playing some ‘pool’ (or snooker) at a nice bar, some relaxed drinks, friendly banter and a little competition. The idea is to up the stakes, to make the game more interesting and make a bet on the outcome of the game…then lose.

The bet: That the loser has to cook the winner dinner on the following Friday/Saturday.

You want to lose because it gives you a chance to get her into your "lair" and show her that you can cook, and I have it on resonably good authority that women love a man who can.

NOTE: If you make it too obvious that you are throwing the game, she will lose all respect for you, so if in doubt, win. And accept the dinner at her place…then when you’re complimenting her on her cooking at the end of the meal, offer to return the favour, most women will accept. (that way you get a fourth date ~grin~)

Technorati Tag: The Dogs Name, Dating, Beyond Date Number Two

Lectiones Sacrae Ex Libris Indiana 06:00 25 comment(s)

Lectiones Sacrae Ex Libris Indiana 06:00 13 comment(s)

Her: ~looking around the bar~ "So why are you talking to the Brazilian?"
Me: ~looking around the same crowded bar~ "That would be because you are the most interesting and attractive person here."

Sure it was corny, sure it reeked of absolute bar spoken drivel, but it really didn't matter what I said, she had already decided she liked me, we were both just filling time between the bar staff getting us our next drink and the next song we both wanted to dance too.

But the topic of this post is not how supremely un-smooth Indy can be when approaching a girl, rather it is about the fact that men have vision filters...where some guys see a vision from heaven, other guys see a grey person, one of a thousand people you will see each day who just blends into the background and fabric of the day. I think I have known this for a long time, but I really realised this a few weeks ago, while just outside one of the many malls that line Orchard Rd, when a mate who's head seemed to be permenantly attached to a swivel, looked at me over the rim of his coffee cup and exclaimed: "the women in this country are so fucking hot"...my 8AM intelligent response "huh! Where?" (I can be supremely quick at this hour of a Saturday morning) and then I gave a dismissive glance in the direction he indicated only to turn back to my Eggs Ben obviously not really impressed with the view...at which point he made the observation, "You and I simply have a different female filter."

Which really is to say that each person has a type, and mine and his are different?

But I did wonder, is type a learnt thing? Is it something genetic within us? Or do we grow to build a vision based on desire, experiences and a sense of entitlement? You often here people talk about having a type? What I can't decide is having such a filter, is declaring yoruself attracted to a certain type, the enriching knowledge of being intune with self, or rather is it limiting and a sign of a closed mind?

Technorati Tag: The Dogs Name, Dating, Attraction, Vision Filters

Lectiones Sacrae Ex Libris Indiana 06:00 20 comment(s)

The room is a meat market. Pure and simple, this place has been created to meet supply and demand...the girls have it, the guys want it.

I have ventured, as any brave archaeologist would into what I am certain some people would refer to as the Sodom and Gomorrah of Singapore. By day a brightly lit neon warren of cheap electronics and thrills of the technical kind, by night it is exactly the same yet of a more carnal nature. This is my first time, and while I have witnessed the shows of Bangkok and the bars of the Philippines, I have to say, that as my eyes adjust to the associated low lighting, I am shocked.

The place is packed.

Is the US Navy in town?

This place is wall to wall...GUYS, and I am not referring to those on the waiting list for the snip, though those too are in abundance, I am talking everyday, guy next door, none balding, none too fat, average guys...huh?

Perplexed, and after a couple of circuits, I settled into a corner, obscured in the gloom, a warm beer for company, my refusal to a few girls noted by others, by which I was probably labeled as "gay"*, but it meant I was safely ignored and therefore free to observe.

Watching the interplay of girl and "john" I wonder, why? Not the why of the girls, I understand that, or at least can try too empathise with the fiscal needs, and a situation in which your body is all you have to sell...but I wonder about the guys? Is it simply "assisted masturbation" as a friend suggests, or is it something more, something deeper?

It may suggest that the dating game has become such that it is distasteful, the "rules" unknown, honesty bereft and not part of the equation...is it that the men in this bar are simply looking for honesty, is the simple fiscal transaction of goods and services when reduced to such a point, all that they are looking for? Is honesty in sexual desire and need at its most transparent in such a place? What is it that drives a man to such a place? And if indeed he is driven to this place, meaning he is looking for a solution to problems and using this as an excuse for behaviour he once would not consider? Is it the ease of release, though I must imagine it is somewhat a shallow one? Is it, something different, something forbidden; is it to try "Asian spice"? Does the irony of her desire being a simple orgasm of monetary need escape the guy as he caress the small body pressed against him? Does he believe, even for an instant that her desire is real? And what with the hollow realisation in the dawn, when alcohol and orgasm have given way to hangover, does he reflect on the ultimately one-sided desire of the joining? Or is he simply happy to have "gotten some"?

I have to wonder, at all the regular ways to meet people, to engage in the banter, and the interplay of a few dates that will hopefully lead, if we are honest, to at least on some level the same goal, has this, is this, the logical conclusion...a sure thing. Where both parties get what they think they want, but ultimately lose so much of themselves...has the microwave, instant-noodle society we have become led us to this point? What is the gain...but maybe more importantly what is the loss?

As I hailed a cab to get me home, I had to wonder have some men always just been such when it comes to seeking the release of the flesh. Is the interplay of individuals in this bar, a reflection of society and the direction it is heading, or rather is it one of the causes? Does the tomorrow, for dating, sexual desire and honesty in needs begin in that room and ones like it, or does it end there...has it always been like this? Have we maybe just ignored it?

* Not that there is anything wrong with that.

Technorati Tag: The Dogs Name, Dating, Sex, Whoring

Lectiones Sacrae Ex Libris Indiana 06:00 23 comment(s)

I struggle (usually to get out of bed in the morning) but lately it has to do with the phrase "It's not supposed to be..." which is usually followed by "this hard" or "like this"...and I want to know who does the person who offers this grandiose statement knows what it's supposed to be like? Was there a manual that I lost during my larval stages that would have let me know exactly what I should have been expecting.

I think my struggle with these phrases is that they reek of expectation, they overflow with the indignation of rights, and they just plain demonstrate that the utterer believes they deserve more, or better, something that they don't have, and something that shoudl be theirs without effort or trial...

The comic below, by Chris Browne is one of the most outstanding memories I have of a Uni course I once took, the name which alludes me and the subject matter was nothing of much importance (meaning there was no associated drinking club, and I can't remember any cute girls in the course), save that this comic stayed with me...

...what I want to know is, for those who believe "it's not supposed to be like this" answer God's question, "Why not?"

Technorati Tag: The Dogs Name, Life, Supposed To Be, Philosophy

Lectiones Sacrae Ex Libris Indiana 06:00 17 comment(s)

From my redbook...

Where you from?" I ask in the easy way backpackers do,

"Same as you." the friendly reply.

And thus we hooked up with Tim and Matt, two Aussies (from the Outback) well into their four month round the world odyssey. In turn they introduce us to Matt and ???, two Americans from New York, and thus a bus journey across Greece is spent in new company.

In those first moments, we all know that this will be a short friendship, but the warmth is still genuine and the liking instant. Time is spent cajoling, bragging and in an afternoon and evening spent in past travel adventures and future travel dreams we find ourselves sharing a love of the road, and find ourselves united in a dream,

"Pamplona!"

Amongst backpackers nothing needs to be said, a simple "did you?" and the answer sets ones status to those involved. (note: I'm still not sure whether the status is accorded, in admiration of the individuals courage and character or rather a wary respect given to those we meet who may suffer from some serious mental instability and thus be dangerous to us.)

We of course are all virgins to the "run" but in that easy manner of the afternoon, talk of friends of friends, and people we know who've "done it", sees a plan begin to grow. Matt (Aussie) produces a magazine, within it an article about the run and we all see the plan forming. This shadowy idea takes form and is galvanised, we will all be there, a chance for the renewal of this friendship and a chance to...

I never got to Pamplona. Tim and Matt were killed in the tragic white-water rafting accident in Switzerland, that claimed the lives of 17 people (mostly Australian) in late June, 99.

I would like to think that this story remains unfinished for them, but truly, I learnt of their deaths much later, and the chance for Pamplona had already passed and had been replaced by a different adventure...

Technorati Tag: The Dogs Name, Photos, Pamplona Dreaming

Lectiones Sacrae Ex Libris Indiana 06:00 4 comment(s)

There is something undeniably sexy about the girl with glasses...whether it springs from a Porky's inspired librarian fantasy, grade 9 English with Ms. Z or from something else I'm not sure but I do know glasses are sexy.

The girl with glasses will be the last approached in the bar, she is probably dressed a little down (re: comfortable) she is out with friends, she is in her own world, and the glasses present a barrier...a barrier you want to cross. She is not really looking to be approached...since I have never actually met a girl who will wear her glasses out while trying to get picked up. Just as I have never approached a woman wearing glasses and not, if I wasn't shot down completely (but this happens with alarming regularity whether she is wearing glasses or not), then found that I did not find her charming, fascinating, intelligent and funny...I don't really need add she was cute, if she wasn't cute, at least in my eyes, I wouldn't have approached her.

They speak about the woman, they highlight her eyes while obscuring them, they also speak of someone who is comfortable about who she is...not vain enough to have to hide beneath her contacts, but that right level of vanity for a pair of frames that highlights and suits her face...they speak of intelligence, and I have always found intelligent women atttractive, and there is something endearingly cute about a woman culred up on the lounge her face a scrunched up mask of concentration as she reads...one hand unconciously pushing her gravity obeying glasses back onto her face.

Maybe I am strange (well actually I know that I am) but I find this quite sexy.

So I couldn't help smile at friends recent revelation that she had just gotten new glasses...and wonder what another friend will look like as Lasik is performed later this week. ~grin~

Technorati Tag: The Dogs Name, Dating, The Girl With Glasses

Lectiones Sacrae Ex Libris Indiana 06:00 19 comment(s)

Please tell me - what must a woman do to let the man know she longs to be asked?
- Michelle, My Misery Loves Company

My three pieces of, very nearly worthless advice...

Never use the word "friend", even if you long to be friends with a guy before anything else may develops, if you mention the word “friend”, a guys brain will not hear a single thing you said after or before the utterance of ‘friend”, he will from then on assume you lack interest and as such his interest will also wane. He will turn his radar back on to active sonar and he will be pinging away for new targets...guys regardless of what they say, do not invite girls they just want to be friends with on dates, they hang out in group situations with those girls...if he likes you he will want 1 to 1 time with you...and while in any other situation he still may go out to dinner with you, if you have uttered the friend term, he will regard your interest as zero...and really wish the evening was over so he could either spend it doing something he would rather be doing, or spend it with a women who at least offers possibilities*...nothing kills possibility more quickly than the word "friend"…This cartoon is more true than you can imagine…being called a friend by a woman is probably the most insulting missive a woman can offer a guy...especially if she really is interested in him.

Sure a smile is the accepted way to demonstrate “like”, and the hair flick will make his heart leap (yes ladies you all know the one ~grin~) but lets be honest most guys will miss these subtle signals, so my advice worth all of about 1.5c, is that touch is the single biggest hint to a guy that you like him...he is looking for a "clear to approach" sign...I look in the mirror every morning, I am yet to see the man, more than one woman has found attractive, cute and worthy of getting naked with, I just don't see him, and most guys are the same...we look in that mirror and we see a guy no more special than any other guy...so a "clear to approach" sign, is one that makes us feel special...so if you are a tactile woman, who loves the touch of men and has many male friends with whom you socialise...STOP TOUCHING THEM. The gentle stroke of the bicep, the stroking finger nails as you laugh at their jokes are all witnessed by the guy you are trying to demonstrate your 'like for"...if you touch everyone, how will he feel special enough to want to ask you...the simple answer is he won't...just like you, if he is touching every 'friend" around him, how special do you feel? What message does that send? How would you perceive it? So touch him...the lingering gentle touch on his arm...do this a few times, as a conscious unconscious gesture it will send a signal to him, allow your foot to rest against his leg under the table...then stop for a bit, see if he responds...if not, repeat...once he starts touching back, once the personal space between the two of you is zero...he will know you are interested. If still in doubt…when he is walking you to either your car/cab or even home, hold his hand…you really have no idea how a man’s confidence with you will soar if he has a clear understanding that you like him and are interested.

And failing all that why not just ask him? I know it's a new concept, but the easiest sign for a guy to know that you like him would be for you to just ask him out.

* There is a third option here and that is that he likes you, he is a glutton for punishment, and hopes that his natural wit and charm will win you over. (Hint to guys: It won't, if she liked you, you wouldn't need hope for this eventuality). So the more likely scenario is that you are fun to be around, he has accepted your offering of friendship because you have very cute friends and he is looking the "nice guy" introduction.

Technorati Tag: The Dogs Name, Dating, Showing Interest

Lectiones Sacrae Ex Libris Indiana 06:00 17 comment(s)

This week's indulgence is proudly brought to you by the Blokes at the Pub with the generous support of Amaretto, a relaxing easing introduction provided by San Miguel and with a lovely indulgence, dedicated to Scorpy (since he asked for her) and served by Girl Friday.(nsfw)

Amaretto Sour

Ingredients
Ice
45ml Amaretto
90ml Sour Mix

Instructions
Shake
Strain
Garnish with Cherry and Orange Slice ~grin~

Cocktail suggested by Miss Devylish.

San Miguel

?.?% alc/vol

This lager is the National brew of The Philippines, a light, crisp and refreshing beer. Best served ice-cold in hotter climes it is the perfect beer for those type of occasions when it is simply beer o'clock. A clean finished, well balanced lager with a subtle nose brewed without the heavy and filling effects you get with many beers suited to hotter climes.

Unfortunately at the same time this beer does not hold it's head well, tastes like piss as it gets warm, and noticebly "stales" when left for any length of time...so my simple advice to overcome this is: drink quicker. ~grin~

The major negative thing with San Miguel is when you are not in The Philippines it is regarded as a premium beer, and I rebel a little paying so much for it when I recall 30c happy hours, that went on four hours on what is arguably the softest beach in the world: Boracay.

Disclaimer: The Blokes at the Pub would like to offer no thanks at all to the management of the Prince of Wales for their assitance in testing these libations. However the small offering of live music that we were present for, did ensure a return visit will indeed be forthcoming.

Note: Indy is currently taking e-mail submissions for readers favorite cocktails, with a caveat, any cocktail involving Malibu or Cream will be viewed with suspiscion. The Malibu cause it is just a travesty who's inventer should be lined against the wall, and the cream...ermm...simply because I am not pro-cream cocktail. (There might even be a double meaning there...not that there is anything wrong with that) ~grin~

Technorati Tag: The Dogs Name, Blokes at the Pub, Drinking, Bar, Women, Amaretto, San Miguel

Lectiones Sacrae Ex Libris Indiana 06:00 12 comment(s)

She said yes to the date, she already likes you enough to be seen in public...WITH YOU. It's up to you to not fuck it up...and yes it really is that simple.

Unless she is a gold-digging, man-hating bitch then if she says yes to a date and gives you her phone number then she really wants to see if you are better than the rest...she is holding out some hope that you will prove to be nice, that she will enjoy your company, that she will laugh and have fun and that you will listen to her in equal portions...all you have to do is not fuck it up...she already thinks "he's kinda cute", because unless she was very drunk, or is the aforementioned GDMHB, she would not say yes to being seen in public with you.

Guys: Think about that...she already thinks you're cute...now you have to show that you are something better than the rest.

...now I could step out of this argument and suggest that since I am still single I am yet to be better than the rest, and while this may indeed be true it could be that I just suck at being a boyfriend, but I would rather gloss over this fact and look at what I believe are Indy's rules for getting a second date (since I seem to be able to do this quite well)

In no particular order, they are, in my small experience all important.

You asked, you pay. If she offers and the date has gone well and you have not fucked it up you can always suggest that she pays next time, at which time you can make plans for another date ~grin~

You want somewhere nice, good food, but not over the top, you want her impressed with you, not overwhelmed by the amount of money you spent on dinner, or the venue. TGIF, Outback or Hooters will not cut it here. If you are worried, about the dinner thing being too formal, and you would rather something more casual, find a nice bar to meet "for drinks", invariably she will get hungry (as will you) and you are just a short stroll from a nice restaurant that you know.

Dress neatly, yes that means you shave. Pay attention to your shoes...she will. Do not over use the aftershave...subtle is the clue here she will get just a whiff when you kiss her hello and goodbye.

Kiss her hello...the cheek kiss is acceptable, anything more wll depend on how and where you met...most Europeans and South Americans will kiss both cheeks, if she is Dutch she will do it three times...Do not air kiss! You are not a pretentious twat, lips make contact with skin...do not slobber.

It's a first date, she may feel more comfortable meeting you at the restaurant, rather than you picking her up, so let her know the time, the address and the name for the booking in case she arrives before you...

Do not let her arrive before you, make sure you arrive before her...it is permissable to sit at the table, but do not accept the menu until she gets there...you probably won't be able to stop them pouring you water...when she arrives she will invariably ask "been waiting for long?" the correct answer here is "I only just arrived myself"...if she is late and apologises for the same respond with "I am so glad you were, I only just got here and was worried that I might have kept you waiting"...put her at ease.

Sit so you face the wall. You are visual, you will scan the room, you will notice the blonde with the legs that go all the way up...she will notice you looking...so remove temptation, she is the reason you are there, so sit so that she is all there is to look at. Do not stare at her, and do not stare at her cleavage...yes you may look, she wore that top hoping you would notice, but a quick glance or 10 is enough...she will catch you, but she will like it as long as you do not talk to her boobs.

Another word on kissing...in my limited experience, if she likes you, has had a good time and does want to see you again, she will kiss you at the end of the date. I know some women who say they won't kiss on a first date, but I believe this is crap. If she likes you, she will kiss you...make it passionate, let it speak for how you felt the evening went, make her go "mmm", and then leave her wondering what else you can do...if you suck at kissing, don't ask me for help, I have always been good at it. ~grin~

Do not sleep with her, no matter what the circumstances be honest with yourself, you are not that special, and if she sleeps with you on a first date, I repeat you are NOT that special, besides if she wants too and you don't she will want you more...she'll be pissed off a bit, but when she thinks about it in the morning she will be impressed and wonder in what other areas you have a moral code you stand by. In this day of flexible morals, having an opinion and sticking to your beliefs will be refreshing to her.

If you do sleep with her...unless she kicks you out after the act, stay the night...you may or may not go out for breakfast or linger in bed for rounds 5 and 6 the next morning...whatever you do if you like her, tell her you had a great time, and call her sometime that afternoon/early evening to let her know "you had a really amazing time, and WANT TO SEE HER AGAIN"...do not leave her wondering if you just used her...because until you take her out again, she will be wondering just this.

If you enjoyed the date, do not be afraid to tell her...do not wait 3 days (what fucking moron made that rule up) who cares if you appear eager, she is used to guys not ever calling, the fact that you really like her will impress her...(think about it, people generally like people who like them) So the next day, not too early, rule of thumb think 10:30 -11 call her and let her know you had a great time, you enjoyed X (relate something she told you, or happened) and suggest that you get together again...

Technorati Tag: The Dogs Name, Dating, Dating Rules, Getting A Second Date

Lectiones Sacrae Ex Libris Indiana 06:00 25 comment(s)

The jungle has a particular smell, the dawn sun leaches night moisture from the ground, so swirling mist obscures your footing, the smell of freshness tinged with the smoke of distant humanity and the rotting of fallen leaves...the tangle of vines, leaves bristling with hairs designed to grab and itch and irritate...

…the incessant buzz of the lone mosquito, homing in on sweat sheen and uncovered skin, brings with it a peculiar dance: step, swipe, step, slap, dodge branch, step, swat...the whole time small beads of sweat trickle down your spine...

…fallen shapes, of angles not born in nature, hint at a one time civilization, and indistinct forms grow with each step into the recognizable, the fallen, the broken, and with final step the jungle parts and ruins lay scattered before you...

…I spent three days clambering over the ruins here, three days with child-like wonderment imagining the purpose of passages and staring with rapt fascination at the carvings upon lintels...fallen blocks reclaimed by nature only added to the beauty...climbing, amazed with what each corner revealed...three days too short to fully explore and yet three days to imprint a mind and imagination forever...

...some of our best memories are imprinted slowly...gently layered piece by piece over the long drawing of time; others are stamped with force in the briefest of moments...

Technorati Tag: The Dogs Name, Photos, Angkor Watt, Ta Phrom

Lectiones Sacrae Ex Libris Indiana 06:00 8 comment(s)

Still prone in bed, the disheveled covers attest to the fact that it is morning, the sun is doing its best to pry open the curtains and disturb my respite...in the background the stereo kicks on, there is a shuffle for a song or two, then her dancing form flitters across the small window afforded by open doorways...blonde hair tossing, dancing on her toes my stolen t-shirt rises and I catch the briefest flash of lace before she passes from my frame...with me as the forgotten voyeur, her unconscious movements offer further glimpses as she, with a purpose only half seen goes about the ritual that is morning coffee...and with a smile born from my eyes she comes back into our room, two cups of steaming brew, a brief kiss that becomes one of lingering passion, and I grin at her,

"what evil thoughts are you thinking already?" she accuses with a smile.

"You look so sexy in my t-shirt." I smile back, and return to kissing her, and thus begins’ a day, in the lazy fashion that is only the province of holidays and the weekend.

There is no doubt in my mind that one of the sexiest things I have ever seen a woman in was one of my much worn faded t-shirts, two girlfriends have worn at various times the offerings of my many t-shirts...one girlfriend, still regarded as one of my best friends took her favourite, with my blessing when geography conspired against us, and when I asked about it recently told me she still has it, and yes, she did still wear it. The other wore what is still my favourite t-shirt, she slept in it, she wore it for comfort, she wore it to be reminded of me...and there is something very sexy about the idea of that.

I know they say (well they say many things) but they say her casually wrapped in one of your business shirts is one of the sexiest views, but not being one to wear too many of the things unless the daily grind demands it I fail to see the allure...but I still smile as I remember a past girl friend wrapped in one of my favorite jumpers, snuggled into it's warmth asleep on my lounge waiting to surprise me as I arrived home on a much snow delayed flight from abroad...

And apart from the odd pair of tracky-daks, long gone, I only still have the jumper and one t-shirt that were worn by different women in my past and today the wearing of either can't help but send my lips into an upward curl as my mind dances down memories of happier times, and while I know women say that wearing their partners clothes while they are absent gives a sense of comfort and security, for me there is something about watching her in your clothes that just brings with it a smile and besides it's just plain sexy.

Technorati Tag: The Dogs Name, Dating, Wearing my Clothes

Lectiones Sacrae Ex Libris Indiana 06:00 16 comment(s)

The pain begins as a dull throb deep in the left hip sometime into, what I can only guess is 5km. The right foot favouring gait is not much above a walk, and the small illumination afforded by the headlamp barely lights the roots and snags across the leaf strewn jungle path, and fearful of this happening again so early, my pace is barely above a walk...the goal at this point is simple: finish. All other thoughts are secondary. The pain in the right arch starts to flare not long after and the single thought of finish is revised for a more manageable thought...only a few more km's and then it's back in the saddle.

Legs pumping, drive the bike forward, gears ratchet down to assist with forward momentum, and yet the slope proves too steep, the fire and tightness in thighs too much and sliding from the saddle you attempt to arrest backward motion and step by step haul the bike to the top...where with brief respite you'll legs will coast at an easier cadence as gravity offers some assistance...before you repeat again.

Dirt gives way to blacktop, and the steady rhythm of the higher gears is noted by the passing of police erected to ensure our safe passage through the city...the trail of water a sure sign that someone's idea of fun had included getting us wet…again.

Miles of road are eaten up, and with saddle sore ass the bike is left before plunging into the ocean, a 400m swim against the incoming current, gear sodden, weighted down with a pack rapidly filling with water, each clumsy stroke is a simple sweep of the arms and legs...1, 2, 3...the mental count to 20, sounds off with each repetition, small goals designed to be achievable, before you start again.

Standing in the shallows, one leg bent in pain as cramps rocket through your legs, the weight of self unbearable and sitting in the wave lapping shallows until standing is the only thing possible, then the slow hobble...pain in arch is now not the dull throb it was but rather a lancing fire with each step...

Another km slips under feet...before an abseil into the river, swim, run , repeat...run a bit further repeat again...before the steady cadence of paddle drives the kayak up river...the glaring sun, hidden for much of the day begins to bake exposed skin, to wet to take more protection cream that has since been washed off. 5 agonising km's past restaurants where I will later take a second dinner* only to turn metres from a brew pub and return...only to run again...then with arm movements, that ache and aggravate skin rubbed raw from salt and action, you pull the paddle board across the open stretch of water...each movement is one less, and to finish is at that point the only thing that keeps you going...

…nothing matters, save finishing, mentally driving your body beyond that which you have trained, and that which you believed possible. One step, one peddle, one stroke…in each one there is small comfort in knowing that it is one less needed.

Final Tally: Fluid drank: 10 litres. Weight lost: 2.5 kilos. Distance covered: 60kms. Time taken: 09:15.

* In true Indiana fashion, even after this punishing day, while in an sms exchange with a friend and after eating half a pizza, her invitation of dinner was readily accepted and he found himself back by the river he had only hours before struggled up.

Technorati Tag: The Dogs Name, Adventure Race, Subaru Asia Challange

Lectiones Sacrae Ex Libris Indiana 06:00 12 comment(s)

Closer to a Geisha and about a far removed from a crack-whore as you can get, the professional escort expounds her services in companionship, conversation and visible prosperity. For those with money, and I mean lots, the ultimate accessory for any event is a stunning woman. Alluring, sophisticated, many highly educated, these ladies (and men) offer moments of companionship to rival the most loving relationship. But is not a relationship, and while many clients and escorts form bonds, one needs to remember it is one based largely on fiscal remuneration. Sex is at the discretion of the escort, and is usually be part of the deal, but unlike a brothel experience the clock is not ticking at the same 30 minute rate, time spent with an escort is all about companionship, conversation, and a higher class of experience…it may not end in sex. But let’s be honest, and call a spade a spade, time spent with an escort does not always end up naked, but more often than not does, rich people (especially men) do not pay all that cash for the company of a charming woman unless he knows he will be seeing more later.

And there in lies the crux, if you say “yes” you would date an escort, what does that say about what you find acceptable in a relationship? I am not judging, but an affirmative answer does tell you something about yourself, doesn’t it?

I am asking this, for one simple reason, a totally unexpected e-mail surprised me on not that long ago, when Alexa asked if I would like to do a link exchange. My first thought was…fuck…I would like to do you ~huge but very honest grin~ then I thought more about…here is a very articulate woman who is up front and honest about who she is and what she does, so why not? I’ve read her Blog on occasions and enjoyed her takes on life, her unique profession and living as a single woman in NY.

But, still would you date an escort? Would you befriend an escort, and assuming you knew what they did, move or try to move the friendship to something more?

For me…and that is the thrust of this post, probably not. I would not hold it against someone if it was their past; I am very “Chasing Amy” in allowing the past to be just that. Would I wonder what it was like, of course? Would I want to know about some experiences, probably and probably not? But if I don’t want my past held against me, how could I hold someone’s against them. But I do believe in monogamy even if I ignore my foray into the arms of a married woman a few years ago...I still believe that I can and desire to be devoted to one individual, but the right individual. I don’t think an open relationship is for me, and that’s what dating an escort in effect is; an open relationship that just happens to pay well. I am too greedy to share my partners body with anyone save selfish me.

But why stop at an escort, would you date anyone in the sex industry? Why not a porn star? How do people (usually women) assuming they desire a healthy relationship develop them? There obviously are people out there for whom the career choice of their partner is unimportant, but what, if anything, does this say about them? What does it say about the person in the career that can so seperate their lives so neatly into compartments? Does it say anything?

Now some out there will suggest that there is a difference between someone’s body and someone’s heart, so while I agree that for some people there is and while some people can make the separation, it is rare for two like minded people to actually meet, so for me the answer is a firm “not me”. And while a pretty girl may turn the head, and a great pair of legs in heels will do just that, as soon it moves beyond a harmless glance passing on the street...when it comes to that level of sharing I prefer to give it to the same place I put my heart.

Technorati Tag: The Dogs Name, Dating, Escorts

Lectiones Sacrae Ex Libris Indiana 06:00 10 comment(s)