Here's the Situation (7 page)

—Winston Churchill, Nobel Laureate/Statesman/Historian/Creeper

Personally, my favorite drink in the club is anything given to me free, because I'm famous. For those who must purchase their own, here's what I recommend:

Top Five Club Drinks

In da club, you need to consider your profile while hefting your beverage to maximize biceps bulge. To show off those guns you've been forging all week in the gym, here are three of the most effective arm curls seen down The Shore, made popular by the cocktails that inspired them:

At some point you're going to want to hit that dance floor, because there's no way you can stand the beat pumping through your body without surrendering to its gravitational pull.

Fist-pumping became a club necessity when the dance floor got so crowded from the bumping house music that the only place left to dance was up. To execute the perfect fist-pump, follow these simple steps: Listen to the music, feel the beat, and let your body begin to respond unconsciously. Go only with what feels right in that moment. Don't worry about what looks polished. Who cares what some gorilla thinks while he's watching you vibe on the floor? Why is some dude looking at you, anyway? Close your eyes and start furiously pumping your fist at the air. That's right, not into the air, but
at
it. You've got to beat back that beat. Battle it, bro. You can't let it win. The deep, thumping bass seizes hold of your every corpuscle. Let the beat strip away those last vestiges of self-conscious embarrassment as you pound, pound, pound the air into rhythmic submission. Battle harder. Keep battling, dawg. Never surrender.

Ah, but in the end, the beat always wins. As it always should.

The Overhead (aka classic pump)

The Flatliner

The Downward Pump (great for showing off the triceps)

You take a couple hundred juiceheads, give them tons of alcohol and energy drinks, and set them loose in a club with hundreds of chicks who are DTF. What's going to happen? Fist-pumping, smooshing, and definitely some fighting. And because of the high quality of work you do, you might be the target of a bro who's jealous of the chicks you're nabbing.

Resist the urge to be macho about it. You don't want to throw down, because you can't creep with a black eye and blood on your previously fresh-to-death T-shirt. But when you see two gorillas squaring off, keep an eye open for any females who might become single as their boyfriend gets mauled in a fight. A creeper creeps. And the creep never sleeps.

For a conflict-free night of creeping, avoid confrontation with this volatile—and extremely unpredictable—primate.

When you've had your share of beating up the beat and can feel the twelve energy drinks you've consumed coursing through veins, your heart pumping in rhythm with the fresh house music thumping from the speakers, you're finally ready to engage Situation Mode. By this point in the night, you've probably noticed a few females vibing you. Now, it's time to approach. So many bros get all hung up on pickup lines, as if it really matters what you say to a girl. If you've chosen your target correctly, the first thing you say to her is merely a formality. I don't even have to think about it anymore, as I have the world's best opening line: “Hi, I'm The Situation.”