Wednesday, February 8, 2012

Chicago – A new study spear-headed by the Sigma Xi Scientific Research Society released its results last week after two years of statistic and physiologic data collecting. Its results were of no surprise to the scientists involved, or anyone with an IQ higher than 138 points.

‘We found that on average, an IQ of 138 was the cut off figure a High School aged youth could no longer masquerade his intellect or brainy interests convincingly enough away from his peers.’ Said Dr. Carlton, Head Researcher of the “Virgin Project” as it became affectionately known. ‘The idea of the initiative was to determine why high IQ students tend to sexually lag behind their less intellectual school mates. It has always seemed like a case of Darwinism in reverse.’

The experiment consisted of rounding up 12,500 subjects from twenty different High schools from around the country who had to fill a questionnaire probing into their career, social and sexual views and accomplishments. ‘The results were quite astonishing at first,’ Dr. Carlton commented, ‘and very soon, the pattern basically hit us right on the head like a Klingon death dart.’

The studies showed most ‘jocks, cheerleaders and the generally cool crowd’ in High school are now stuck in dead end jobs and drinking their sorrows on Friday and/or Saturday nights. Have barely expanded their social circles and are constantly reminiscing about the ‘good old days.’ ‘In some instances,’ Dr. Carlton commented ‘A few subjects were actually employed in companies ran by the same individual they used to pull wedgies on. It is a case of extreme poetic justice.’

The results even illustrated instances of sad irony as in the case of Jacob Williams. Back in high school he was the soccer team captain for three years running. ‘Yeah, I got some sweet snatch back then, drank like a fish too, yeah, those were good years. (But) lately my career has been taking most of my time.’ Unfortunately, our interview at his place of work was cut short by a phone call, which required his immediate attention. ‘If you excuse me.’ Said Williams as he placed the phone back onto the receiver. ‘I gotta run. Some yuppie loser just puked his guts out in the men’s washroom on the 17th floor.’

The status quo of the study showed intellectual prowess and the willingness to apply it in scholarly interest proportionally reduced the chances of a student getting laid.

‘I was chess captain in high school and it was not until university that I kissed my first woman.’ Reported one Oscar Escobado, ‘But after I got my medical practice going, women have been practically throwing themselves at me. Honestly, I lost count how many I have had in the sack. You could say that I came back with a vengeance.’

The data also showed ‘Nerds’ tended to be better lovers than their ‘cool’ counterparts regardless of their financial success as their self-esteem with the opposite sex is permanently damaged. As such, a desire to always try harder, more passionately and/or for longer is ingrained in their psyche early in their teenager years as they feel they are never quite good enough. ‘We called it the Ugly-Duckling Syndrome.’ Said Dr. Carlton. It was also noted that none of the spouses or significant other of those in the study ever complained or seemed to mind their partner’s obvious emotional unbalance.

‘It was almost impossible to conceal my astuteness when you can remember what was taught three weeks before or the fact that I had to keep correcting the teacher on her calculus solving skills. Back then; being smart was like the kiss of death. Mind you, my ex-playmate wife things I am over exaggerating.’ Said one George Kyperous from his private yacht. Now a multi-millionaire whose patent of a drug that nullifies nicotine addiction is being subsidized by cigarette companies who are paying him not to bring his invention to market.

The project even had a chance to reunite many subjects who had not heard or seen of each other in years. As was in the case of Stevenson “Stevie” McNicoll, a Hyundai mechanic, but a Football God in high school. He had the chance to attempt to amend the years of emotional abuse he inflicted to Josh Patterson — now a powerful stockbroker, member of the board of the Bank of America and married to Miss Florida ‘98. Later that day Mr. Patterson smirked as he commented, ‘When his house is repossessed, we’ll see who’ll be laughing then.’

At the end of the study, it was discovered that in extreme cases chess, debate, science team captains and most serious nerds in general produced an income that was on average twice to five times greater than their entire high school populous combined. ‘Such flexibility, and liquidity in assets,’ Observed Dr. Carlton, ‘Is a humongous turn on for women, who instinctively gravitate toward such needs as companionship, security and diamond jewelry.’

Since the results have been released, The Bank of America and a number of Top 100 companies have generously subsidized the entire funding for the “Virgin Project.”

Popularity: 53% [?]

A Series of Unimportant Events (I)

Posted by MauricioAlas On June - 28 - 2007 1 COMMENT

Friends always tell me I tend to meet strange people everywhere I go. My defence usually goes along the lines of “Hey, I am friendly; people tend to end opening up, that’s not my fault! Sometimes they tell me stories they would not tell anyone else and… well, we all have quirks. So when I tell you about them, it sounds like an above average number of people who are like that. However, I am sure we all have them, both friends and stories although we just don’t tend to share the latter.” Or something like that. Really.

Take a few nights ago for example. I was at a bar and a girl was trying to unbutton my shirt. Sure, it doesn’t happen often, and yes, it is a great boost to one’s ego but all this was happening right at the bar and for the amusement of all onlookers. I felt the need to say something. Like asking for her name but as a gentleman, I felt I would be intruding onto her dedication and defer fervent concentration from her craft, and trust me, it was taking her quite bit of concentration. ‘Vodka shots unwieldy fingers make,’ that is what I constantly warn my readers.

Anyway, so after she tried to kiss me a few times –by the way, the locale in question is a rip off, a glass of table wine for $12??– Anyway, I asked to go for a cigarette to relax. Once outside, this woman turned into the perfect example why I would never date someone I meet at a club. Not only she almost got into fight with a random girl whose boyfriend was right there. Which meant that me, as the defacto guy in tow, almost got sucked into a fight I had no part of. But wait there is more! After I managed to talk everyone out of a lot of scratching, hair pulling and punching, she then decided to curl up into a corner and become an emotional wreck. We are not talking fender bender either, more like two monorails going 215 km\h and crashing into each other kinda of catastrophe. With wheels and metal shreds exploding and decapitating flying birds and small herbivores everywhere.

All of the sudden she hated her job, her age, her life and just for kicks, me. To be honest, I was just standing there lighting a cigarette a few feet way. I knew we were just outside the lounge but I felt bad leaving her like that sobbing her problems away. Eventually her guy friend came out and asked me what as wrong with her.

‘Life.’ I said, ‘But Vodka helped.’
‘Ah.’ Then he asked me for a light.
‘Take it she gets like this…’
‘Sometimes.’
‘You are just friends?’
‘Oh yeah.’
‘Is she single?’
‘Oh, yeah.’

She then glimpsed at us, squinted and called us losers. Her friend then moved closer and asked her what has wrong? She replied by slapping his smoke off his hand. Then both stared at the lighted cigarette now on the ground. ‘That’s bad for you!’ she argued. He then came back to my side, rolled his eyes and said he was going back inside for another drink. The now obviously drunk girl (NoOdGi) left the safety of her corner and stumbled to a fountain about 75 feet away. I followed. After repeating her ‘I hate my job, age and life’ mantra she decided to throw her purse, along with all its neat contents into said fountain. Then sat on the floor and cried some more. Wow.

Out of human pity –as at this point it could not possibly be for any other reason– I looked into the fountain but the purse which was glittery white, blended with the incandescent yellow lights of he fountain just perfectly. Adding to this, the the fact it was night time, made the purse and the make up and cell phone invisible.

A few minutes later, her friend came out and after catching on to what had happened, took off his shirt and began looking for the damn purse in the fountain. Looking and searching, working his way more by touch than by sight. Pictures of Pirates of the Caribbean came to mind. He couldn’t find it and Noodgi was getting pissed off. I could not help smirking at the sheer spectacle. At that moment Noodgi caught me and began insulting me. But can anyone take the insults of a drunken woman who threw her own purse, along with her car keys into a fountain seriously?

Her friend couldn’t find the purse and he was getting pissed off. Why? Because he was going to get a ride from her –something I DID learn is that both of them lived in Mississauga– mostly thanks to his rantings of disbelief.

It dawned on me that maybe just maybe, she may have overshot the fountain even though from my point of view it seemed like it had gone in. I decided to take a look a few feet further away where some patio chairs were located. As I went behind one of the chairs, lo and behold, guess what I found. A small white albeit now very dirty purse. I took it back to Noodgi, hanging off my index finger.

‘Is this yours?’ I asked.

She then gave me a hug, said she loved me and began fidgeting with its contents. I asked the guy if they were okay to make it home, as there was no way she could drive. He said yes, he would probably wait it out until she sobered up. Noodgi then asked if I wanted another vodka shot. I said I would light another cigarette first.

As they went inside, I remembered my tab was paid and all of my actual friends had gone home. As I finished my cigarette, I checked the time, found my bearings, found Yonge and King and walked for my life.

Popularity: 3% [?]

Ode to Green Beer: St. Patrick’s Is Here

Posted by MauricioAlas On March - 16 - 2007 1 COMMENT

St. Patrick, the patron of drunks everywhere is coming to Toronto. Starting today, the festivities created to test the resilience of the human liver and kidneys began with a loud cheer followed by countless of gallons of green beer being poured throughout the city. You go liver! Break down that bitchin’ alcohol!
Our dear Saint Patrick is one of the Catholic Church’s most misunderstood Saints. Perhaps only second to Jesus and Saint Valentine. Don’t you think that if he had known that because of him millions of people would push the limits of their kidneys year in and year out that he might, I don’t know, promoted a healthy eating habit as well?

You know, to balance things out?

…Or whatever happened to Brigid of Kildare and Columba? The other TWO patrons or Ireland? Have you guys even heard of them? They are probably the ones that advocated healthy eating.
So, to celebrate I will be having a small get together as part of my social group at Hemingway’s in Yorkville. What a better place to toast a drinking holiday than in a bar named after one the 20th century’s most celebrated lushes? And a decent writer to boot.

Here is the link to the outing.

Popularity: 2% [?]

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