Heisenberg

            It’s Saturday night and since I still have no friends here, I have decided to go out and peep the night life in this city.  I am planning to hit up a couple of bars and not the turbo clubs so here I throw on my gear: sun faded jean shorts, Toronto Maple Leaf socks, yellow and turquoise Nike Air Max Light shoes and the pièce de resistance…my Breaking Bad Heisenberg T-Shirt.  My deodorant has mysteriously gone missing so I am not wearing any and since I am out of razors, I have a 3 day old beard.  Before I go out I decide to make my lunch, since it could be a late night.

On the way to Scubar, a group of 5-6 dudes stop me and take picture with me and compliment my shirt.  When they ask where they can get one, I tell them that it’s one of a kind.  The bouncer at the bar lets me skip the line due to the awesomeness of the shirt and I nod at the 4 dudes in line who are all dressed the same.  This bar is packed with dudes, specifically drunk hipsters, and since the music is so irritating I decide to leave.  I walk down George Street for a few minutes and now dudes are yelling from their cars, “Fucking Heisenberg motherfucker!”  So I just throw horns and smile back when this happens.

 I sit down on the steps in front of Town Hall Station and grab a bottle of water.  Some drunk chick runs across the street and tries to stop, but slides about 5 feet in her high heel shoes.  She yells, “I slided!  WOOOOO!”  I guess she hears me laugh and tells me to shut the fuck up, which makes me laugh even harder.  Now she walks up to me with her two follow men friends and tells me that it’s not funny.  I nod and tell her,

“You’re right… that was fucking HILARIOUS!”  Now she giggles and asks me,

“What country are you from? America?”

“No.”  I reply

“England?”

“No.”

“Europe?”

“Europe is a continent.  I’m Canadian.”

“Canadia?  Where’s that?”

“The North.”

“Oh.  Are you coming clubbing with us?”  The two dudes she is with are practically invisible and stand there with their hands in their pockets staring at the ground.

“No, this is a Heisenberg only night.” Now she outs and begs me to come,

“Please?  We’ll have fun!”

“Sorry, maybe some other time.”  She gets angry and gives me the middle finger.

I am walking down George Street and I see all these Turbo hotties pouring out of one of these two clubs.  There is an endless line, about 30-40 dudes all dressed practically exactly the same: vertically striped pink or blue dress shirt with the top button undone, fairly tight blue jeans, black dress shoes and black belt.  Very generic indeed.  Since there is a fight happening outside of the one club called The Establishment, I decide to just walk in…wearing my black Heisenberg T-shirt into one of the classiest clubs I have ever seen.  For a few seconds I am terrified that some bouncer will stop me and when one who resembles a gorilla on steroids makes eye contact with me, he gives me thumbs up and smiles.  Sure.  The music in here is actually pretty decent and they play a few classic hip-hop tracks like Notorious B.I.G.’s Everyday Struggle and Meth n Red’s Da Rockwilda.

I feel like the shit and do a couple of warm up approaches and get blown out by this group of two girls who tell me: A) I am ugly as fuck, B) I should be on the bigger loser C) I already am the biggest loser.  This actually pumps my state and I get amused by this. 

There is this group of 6 turbo honeys sitting at a table with this very well dressed dude, wearing a feathered hat, who isn’t smiling or even moving.  These girls all have full make up deluxe, tight short skirts and high hell shoes.  “That’s for me!”  I tell myself and go approach.  When I walk up, I just sit down at the booth and yell over the music, “Hey guys, you all seem cool I just had to say hello.”  The guy high fives me and they all cheer HEISENBERG.  These girls get up and pull me to the dance floor and 3 of them are now grinding on me.  I pick the hottest one up, double legged claw style, and start banging her on my dick, fully clothed of course.  She complies and actually cheers while this is going down.  Since I am still out of shape, I start to lose my breath after about 15 seconds and put her down.  She pulls me over to the bar and buys me a Coke Zero, which ends up being 6 DOLLARS, but because she is a turbo, the bartender just gives her the drinks for free.

“Where are you from mate?” she asks.

“Heaven,” I reply “my girlfriend is there right now but she hasn’t contacted me in a few weeks.”

“That’s not very nice.  My boyfriend is at home right now watching football with his mates.”

“Oh, cool.”

Here I am: 5 star club, getting free drinks, groping a turbo I’ve known for less than five minutes (as hot as Cindy if not hotter), while wearing the HEISENBERG T-SHIRT!

“My name is Katarina and I’m Russian.”  She tells me.

“I’m Heisenberg, from Albuquerque New Mexico.” 

“Yeah, you sound American.” Her friend rolls up and tells me to kiss Katarina.

“I can’t.  Skylar would get jealous and what about Walter Jr. and Holly?”  Katarina sulks and rolls her eyes to back of her head.  I haven’t heard from Cindy now in a few weeks and I am getting to the point where I feel she might have bailed on our relationship.  You only live once right?  I spin Katrina around get up close in her face, grope her ass and kiss her gently on the lips for a few seconds.  She forces me to dance, which makes her laughs since I am the worst dancer on the planet and make an ass of myself as I usually do.  When I glance around the club, every person is watching us!  Katarina pulls me in and tells me that her friends are jealous because she always gets a lot of attention.  We kiss again and now I tell her to come and get food with me.  She nods and goes over to her friends and I guess tells them she is leaving with me, some smile while the feathered hat dude seems angry.

Outside the club, I pull out another of jlaix’s moves the "wall slam make-out” and ‘cut it off as quickly as I initiate it’ (I really bite his style but it works so well).  People in the street are now eyeing me down and dudes approach Katarina to throw me off as I march her down the street.  In the past I would have acknowledged the dudes and tried to blow them out, but now I just ignore them and hold her hand firmly and trudge through the crowds (sort of like walking a dog).  At this point I am starving, so we split a kebab.  Surprisingly enough, she actually eats the entire thing and this is quite rare for a girl who is as thin as she is.  While we are eating I tell her, “Tonight I can’t…”. 

“I figured that.  We both have other people to deal with, but please take my number.”  Katarina says as she writes her number on a Kleenex from Yummies.  We hug and kiss in the street and I hail her a cab, who actually passes 3 or 4 dudes just to take her fare.  The door of the cab closes, she smiles and waves goodbye while keeping eye contact.

In Toronto I am the biggest chode in the city.  By this I mean that I have had nights where I go out and get blown out by 4’s and 5’s and the other dudes, who simply stand at the bar with their drinks pressed up against their chest, seemed cool to me.  In June and July this past summer, I went out about 20 nights in a row and at the end of some of those nights I actually cried because I found it so frustrating that I couldn’t even get a girls number.  I even broke my own personal code and made out with this chick I work with.  Even then, I had to actually lie to her and say I had to go home, just so I wouldn’t pull her home and bang her.  Some of the shit I was doing in June was retarded and I was even taking girls on “dates”.  WHAT THE FUCK?  Finally I met Cindy and we communicated well, until I came here.  In the past when a girl wouldn’t call me back or reply to my messages I would just keep calling or texting until they told me to fuck off, because I was being super needy.  In Sydney on the other hand, I am not even trying and I am getting success with women.

Strange paradox:  In Toronto I am Walter White, in Sydney I am Heisenberg.