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S’up. Name’s Karl Welzein, hailin’ from Grand Blanc, MI. ‘Round these parts in Mid-Michigan, “Captain Karl” is pretty much the man. Everyone knows that’s a natural fact.
‘Course, any true bad boy knows it takes dedicaish to hike up the hill and plant your flag sayin’ “Chillin’ The Most” on the top of macho man mountain. Oh yeah. (RIP Randy Savage.)
After high school, I was kinda tied down with a babe and tried to do the right thing by gettin’ married and havin’ kids and all that crap, respectfully. She (Ann, my ex-wife. Still craves my bod.) only got into some junior college, so I decided to oblige and watch after her honor in that capacity. Always made me kinda steamed ‘cause I probably coulda went to U of M or whatever, and walked on to the football team. Always had a good arm. Mighta made it to the top, Jim Harbaugh style. Woulda been so chill to play for Bo. Man. At least I coulda rocked it for MSU. Kirk Gibson went there, so it damn sure should be good enough for me or ANYONE else.
Anyway, so alotta times, me and my bro Al were starved for action in our neck of the woods. Al had dropped out of school to pursue other ventures with plans to return on his own terms, but still had contact with a babe at Central Michigan. Forget her name. Paula? Doesn’t matter. Wasn’t real ripe in the grill area, but her chest beefers were juicy and ready to harvest, if you know what I mean. (Ha! Just some guy humor there. Don’t want to offend any babes, respectfully.)
So we’d cruise to Mt. Pleasant, and man, after crossin’ the border, Al’d put on Thin Lizzy’s “The Boys Are Back In Town” with the windows down and the vol up. Even if it was winter. Always got some real looks. ESPECIALLY from babes. Everyone knew the Welzein Boys were some of the hardest partiers from the Flint area. And still ARE, thank you very much. Don’t really see my bro Al anymore due to some misunderstandings. Probably for the best, ‘cause when we hook up, it’s pure TNT dynamite.
“Paula” or whatever (Doesn’t matter. Probs gots big sloppers now, not primo bombs. But, who knows? Might be mature and aged to perfection. Should look her up for a possible rendezvous?) didn’t really have any hookups on the late night scene, so after Al would safisfy her carnal desires while I hungout in the parkin’ lot, we’d head out on the town, guerilla style, to find out where the biggest celebraish was, then show the locals how to rock with the heat of a thousand suns.
Makin’ an entrance with alluring stranger danger qualities is a fine art that requires the skills of a street smart amigo with magnetic swag, you guys. But here’s how to keep it chillin’ without lookin’ like a nobody corncob when you’re makin’ an effort to roll up in the spot like #1:
1) Always post up outside the front door until you hear a hot jam that feels like a custom built anthem for your vibes. Me? I like “Still of The Night” by Whitesnake, and right when it hits 3:57, I bust in with the #1 sign in the air to let ‘em know I’m the best. If it takes awhile for your jam to hit, just hold that post with a side arm of Jim Beam. Gives you time to peep all the babes so you don’t waste time with any ugga mugs.
2) Play the hot corner ‘til you can tell it’s chill to get red hot. No need to look like some nobody loser, doin’ party laps like a lost turkey, you guys. Real bad boys find a primo area with a view of all the babes for peepin’. Somewhere by the dance floor is optimal. Then, after all the local fellas have ran outta their best moves, you can just wet your hair down with a cold one to simulate a boogie lather, then cruise up to the babe with the most rockin’ caboose and unleash a move like “The Peener” that’ll drive wild with carnal passions. The Peener is pretty much unstoppable when it comes to babes becomin’ sensitive and in need of a one-on-one convo.
3) Wear plenty of ‘logne. When the babes says, “Whoa, what’s that foreign scent?” you can give her a finger gun that lets her know you’re ,“Dr. Good Odor, MD and fully licensed to practice.”
4) Leave on your shades. That way, when you’re in a late night one on one situaish and you finally take ‘em off to reveal your peepers, the babe’ll feel special like, “Whoa. Who is this out of town mystery man, and how can I get to know his bod with a deeper connection.”
5) If they don’t ever play “Still of the Night” by Whitesnake, ever, let the host know that it better be next on the list or they’ll be in the headlines of the “Corncob Tribune.” Then make the “cut your throat,” sign, Undertaker style. It’s a real Power Move. Sure, it’s threatening, but all in the name of everybody havin’ a good time. Can’t let some idiot’s crap music choices ruin everyone’s evening. Go play “the new stuff” on your own time, kemosabe.
6) Always grunt a preemie before you head out. It’s just guy code to grunt out a stiff BM at dusk before it runs loose and wild in the night.
7) When you’re sure a babe is ready to get consensual, that’s a good time to find an open john for another safety grunt. It’s not good business for eroticisms when you got a beer BM ready to blow, you guys. Gettin’ a groaner out is respectful to the ladies so you can focus on their satisfaction all night long, without worryin’ about a clenched up situaish.
8) Cut the sleeves off your t-shirt. If you forgot, rip ‘em off when you get there. Don’t be stupid.
United We Rock,
President and CEO of Bad Boy City, USA.