This is the tale of the Canadian Stewardess Premadonna:

I'm fresh out of my first three years at Ft. Bragg and ride my bike from NC to Las Vegas to stay with my dad. I have a great stop with a friend of mine at Myrtle Beach and got a good University of Kentucky pickup at freaky tikki club. I'm totally stoked about the club scene in Vegas you know?

I begin building my network online, post pics partially nude on myspace and have Concierge taking notice...I'M LOVING IT! Two successfull pickups, one a gold medalist in tae kwon do for youth olympics and the other a fresh Cali girl....I'm getting cocky. I've hooked up with a door girl at club ICE where I got to go see DJ Irene-the chick is fricking hot, half French. ANYHOW I'm leaving ICE one night and I've been dancing all night and an 8 pops up. She looks like a Maxim model that smokes cigarettes, around 5' 11" "taller than me but who cares?" with bruenette hair and brown eyes.

As I'm leaving in my 95 ford contour with no hubcaps on it and a laptop to serve as my MP3 player with a wire cassette I pull up and see her standing on a sidewalk, so I offer her a ride. Turns out the chick is a canadian flight attendant that was born in Columbia-and she wants to go to DRE for after hours, she's bossy and a bit boring truthfully. I'm anxious since I'm in the hooptie but there doesn't seem to be a problem on her end and truthfully I wouldn't care-she's lucky she got a ride right?

We turn up at DREs and she's in a rush to start drinking more even though she's sweating vodka, I'm trying to find a way to have this sloshed cutie ground herself before I get a passed out chick at my place. We get to the door and the crowd is huge, taking up until the 21 tables nearby. The only way we're getting in is if I pay for a VIP table with a cheap absolute bottle for around $220 or some astronomically expensive price. I YELL! OUTLOUD! "$220, I don't even have that! What the f*ck?". I make a scene over it and she begins whining about how she wants to get in......"You're a flight attendant, you make the money here-if you want in you have to pay."

She starts her whining again and I'm surrounded by all these people looking at me standing next to a good looking catch...until she opens her piehole. Worst off I start getting competition by the sweaty italian guys in electric shirts. I'm wearing a partially transparent black shirt that's a perfect material for dancing and some flannel slacks from express that hug friggin' great. I start seeing what's happening, she's only stoked to drink....the chick is a total alchie and I'm not going to spend that much for vodka I'm not going to drink.

I look at her and she's starting to approach the cash camel....man......I think.... "okay, maybe I can SPAM some quick cash....but my bank collector job doesn't readily finance this stuff.." Then I come to my senses and I just walk away. I don't look for her, I don't say anything to her-I don't do anything except worry about myself. I'm getting tired anyhow. I elevator up to the parking garage, light a blunt and take off. Now....I could'ove probably saved myself by sacrificing alot of money to a chick that looked pretty hot and take a risk by leaving myself begging and vulnerable....yeah sure.

Or else I could'ove saved my reputation in front of a huge amount of people that normally attend clubs by leaving. I think the latter was best....but what do you all say?

Dude,

I would´ve dropped her off at DRE´s and drove off into the sunset....No pussy is worth money!

Smoke

I dont know why, but something tells me that is you paid that to her, you lose her in that second plus your money of course.
Congratulations, you save yourself from hitting the head in the wall lol


ICE