Quality over quantity. Let these words wash over you, embrace them, and use them as you wish for I have just given you the key to victory in the ever-growing battle of the sexes. Just today I was told, "You have to slay a few dragons to get to the princess". Lies. Sanchez Alfonso will have none of this dragons talk. Sanchez has reached the princess on many occasions without encountering any Hungarian Horntails or Norwegian Ridgebacks. Here is one such occasion...
It was a cold winter night when Sanchez sent out the call, "Get your backside, to Fridays Riverside!" Within seconds, thousands of women had signalled their interest in attending, but Sanchez wasn't after something easy. Sanchez was keen for a chase, a chance to spread his wings, to test himself out, seal the deal and most of all, rub it in his friends' faces.
As Sanchez ascended the Fridays staircase, much like a familiar mythical 'Son of God' did 3 days after his death, hordes of scantily-clad women were congregating at the bar, ready to shout Sanchez a wet pussy. Sanchez strode passed them without acknowledging them. He sat at a table next to his mates and when they gave him a look of utter incredulity and disbelief, he said to them,
"Three words, guys. Quality over quantity!" One friend actually spat his drink out. Thankfully it landed on a girls white dress and not Sanchez. Luck favours the sexy.
After explaining to his friends that he was not here for just any ordinary girl, he stated perusing the crowd for the lucky girl he would chase. As he looked, he saw more and more drgaons, maybe his friend was right. Maybe he would have to swallow his pride and slay a dragon. A sickly feeling filled his stomach as he came to the realisation that this was the only way forward. He rose from his chair, ashamed at the course of action he was about to take. He approached the closest dragon, her skimpy dress hanging off her in all the wrong places. He was not nearly drunk enough for this, but there was no turning back. Just as he was about to introduce himself, out of the the corner of his eye, he caught of glimpse of something breathtaking. Someone beautiful and perfect in every way.
Was it a princess? No. This is not some hack, run-of-the-mill blog where fairytales come true. This is where Sanchez keeps it real. The breathtaking, mesmerising sight that Sanchez saw was actually himself. He had just walked in front of a mirror. As he stood there looking at his chiselled features and Mexican tan, he realised he was above this. He was a better person than these dragons because he was better looking. Good looking people do not talk to dragons, it's just science. Look it up!
The dragon still stood there, waiting, a hopeful look on her face. Sanchez smiled at her, his mind ticking over, he knew what he had to do. He beckoned her over to him. She could barely hide her excitement, the dragon skipper drunkinly across to him. Sanchez started the conversation, "Heyyy, have you met Johno?" and he motioned to his mate next to him who sat there stunned. "He really likes you!" With his work done, Sanchez wandered off to get himself a drink.
As he stood at the bar, giving himself a mental pat on the back, he looked to his right and saw his princess. He got his drink, and went to speak to her, "Hi, I bought you a drink" he said as he handed the drink to her. "Oh thanks" she replied, taking a sip. Game, set, match. Fridays dancefloor, car backseat, hospital ER. Apparently a dozen roofies is too many. The poor princess eventually woke from her slumber, or what the doctors called it, her coma.
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Sunday, May 23, 2010
Sunday, May 16, 2010
UQ Law Ball
UQ Law Ball. Suits, free alcohol, fine ladies and Sanchez Alfonso. This is what dreams are made of.
Buttoned shirt done up, hair perfected, pants put on the three legs at a time and a tie hanging from my neck, Sanchez was ready. Upon arrival, Sanchez found he waiting time in bars to be not to his liking. But once it was discovered you could obtain 4 drinks at once from the upstairs bar, Sanchez had his target. Quite a few vodka and orange juices later, significant chat was being thrown.
The theme of the night was James Bond. As the alcohol coursed through my veins, I became more confident in my amazing good looks. Scoring with random chicks would be easy, they're drunk, I'm drunk and I'm Sanchez Alfonso. Game, set, match. So Sanchez and a good friend approached two young lonely ladies.
"Hey, the name's Bond, James Bond" I opened with, a sure winner I thought. Clearly not, as immediately my 'good friend' walked straight off. I kept my composure and fought through their laughter. Within seconds my friend had returned, but it was not to resume his wingman duties but to ask the girls to rate my performance.
"On a scale of 1 to 10, how did he go?" he asked. I still maintain that they misunderstood the question because they couldn't hear over the music. Or maybe I really was a 3...Either way, there were more drinks to be had.
By now, I had switched into 'Hail Mary' mode. Essentially, this is when you just go for it, all or nothing, straight up without any hesitation. It's a favourite of mine, not because it reaps results but because it gives everyone a good laugh, usually at my expense. However, I was feeling confident tonight, I was about to turn my dry patch around.
I checked my hair, fixed my tie and approached the bar.
"Hi, can I get a vodka and orange juice and your number?" I seductively slurred at her.
"Ummm, no sorry, but I'll get you that drink" she replied. After drowning my sorrows it came to me that I hadn't applied my papaw ointment before going to the bar, of course she was going to turn me down. Nevertheless, there were many more drinks to drink and girl to scare, I mean, tune.
After leaving the ball, Sanchez and his disciples were wandering the streets when we came across another group of people. Target locked on, time to shine.
"Hey, can you tell me which way to the city and can I have your number?" I shouted at her, not registering that I had left the loud Tivoli and was now in a quiet street. She smiled, pointed and politely said no.
"Oh, you're turning me down, that's funny!" I called out as I ran away.
The one decent conversation Sanchez did get into with a girl ended in a mysterious fashion...
*20 minutes of talking* "And then my boyfriend went and broke his leg...Hey, where are you going?" Talk about 20 minutes of wasted time.
After nearly getting into a fight with a Broncos player, for which I can't take all the credit for, and just generally being a boss for rest of the night, I found myself at a girls house with 3 other girls. And I know what you're thinking, "How does Sanchez do it? Once again, he will have a 4some, isn't he sick of having 4somes everyday?" But sadly, this wasn't one of those occasions. While the girl who owned the house was a bit of a nazi, Sanchez was in no mood to control himself. The highlight of the night was when Sanchez declared himself the greatest Harry Potter researcher in the last 50 years. However, a silly little girl decided she would challenge Sanchez. Could he name Ablus Dumbledore's middle names?
Now, normally this would be childs play, like studying arts or science at uni. But at 3am and drunk as Hermione Granger on her 10th butterbeer, this was a struggle.
"Percival...Wilfred...Ahhhhh fuck! God damn it nigga! JK Rowling is a whore! Oh, Brian!" I thought aloud. Another girl there asked the silly little one if that was correct,
"I don't know! Who cares, we won't ever find out", she replied with. Ummm, you are with Sanchez, we will find out. And within a second, Sanchez had located the 5th Harry Potter book on the bookcase, for Sanchez knew that in that book, Dumbledore anounced his full name to court in the case against Harry and his use of the patronus charm. After rifling through the pages, Sanchez found the line.
Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore. Ohh, so close! And just on cue, the house nazi walks into the room after brushes her teeth to see Sanchez reading through her books. "It's Harry Potter, chill out bro!" Hmmm she didn't like that.
Buttoned shirt done up, hair perfected, pants put on the three legs at a time and a tie hanging from my neck, Sanchez was ready. Upon arrival, Sanchez found he waiting time in bars to be not to his liking. But once it was discovered you could obtain 4 drinks at once from the upstairs bar, Sanchez had his target. Quite a few vodka and orange juices later, significant chat was being thrown.
The theme of the night was James Bond. As the alcohol coursed through my veins, I became more confident in my amazing good looks. Scoring with random chicks would be easy, they're drunk, I'm drunk and I'm Sanchez Alfonso. Game, set, match. So Sanchez and a good friend approached two young lonely ladies.
"Hey, the name's Bond, James Bond" I opened with, a sure winner I thought. Clearly not, as immediately my 'good friend' walked straight off. I kept my composure and fought through their laughter. Within seconds my friend had returned, but it was not to resume his wingman duties but to ask the girls to rate my performance.
"On a scale of 1 to 10, how did he go?" he asked. I still maintain that they misunderstood the question because they couldn't hear over the music. Or maybe I really was a 3...Either way, there were more drinks to be had.
By now, I had switched into 'Hail Mary' mode. Essentially, this is when you just go for it, all or nothing, straight up without any hesitation. It's a favourite of mine, not because it reaps results but because it gives everyone a good laugh, usually at my expense. However, I was feeling confident tonight, I was about to turn my dry patch around.
I checked my hair, fixed my tie and approached the bar.
"Hi, can I get a vodka and orange juice and your number?" I seductively slurred at her.
"Ummm, no sorry, but I'll get you that drink" she replied. After drowning my sorrows it came to me that I hadn't applied my papaw ointment before going to the bar, of course she was going to turn me down. Nevertheless, there were many more drinks to drink and girl to scare, I mean, tune.
After leaving the ball, Sanchez and his disciples were wandering the streets when we came across another group of people. Target locked on, time to shine.
"Hey, can you tell me which way to the city and can I have your number?" I shouted at her, not registering that I had left the loud Tivoli and was now in a quiet street. She smiled, pointed and politely said no.
"Oh, you're turning me down, that's funny!" I called out as I ran away.
The one decent conversation Sanchez did get into with a girl ended in a mysterious fashion...
*20 minutes of talking* "And then my boyfriend went and broke his leg...Hey, where are you going?" Talk about 20 minutes of wasted time.
After nearly getting into a fight with a Broncos player, for which I can't take all the credit for, and just generally being a boss for rest of the night, I found myself at a girls house with 3 other girls. And I know what you're thinking, "How does Sanchez do it? Once again, he will have a 4some, isn't he sick of having 4somes everyday?" But sadly, this wasn't one of those occasions. While the girl who owned the house was a bit of a nazi, Sanchez was in no mood to control himself. The highlight of the night was when Sanchez declared himself the greatest Harry Potter researcher in the last 50 years. However, a silly little girl decided she would challenge Sanchez. Could he name Ablus Dumbledore's middle names?
Now, normally this would be childs play, like studying arts or science at uni. But at 3am and drunk as Hermione Granger on her 10th butterbeer, this was a struggle.
"Percival...Wilfred...Ahhhhh fuck! God damn it nigga! JK Rowling is a whore! Oh, Brian!" I thought aloud. Another girl there asked the silly little one if that was correct,
"I don't know! Who cares, we won't ever find out", she replied with. Ummm, you are with Sanchez, we will find out. And within a second, Sanchez had located the 5th Harry Potter book on the bookcase, for Sanchez knew that in that book, Dumbledore anounced his full name to court in the case against Harry and his use of the patronus charm. After rifling through the pages, Sanchez found the line.
Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore. Ohh, so close! And just on cue, the house nazi walks into the room after brushes her teeth to see Sanchez reading through her books. "It's Harry Potter, chill out bro!" Hmmm she didn't like that.
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