Old Guys Picking Up Texas Chicks

In the part of Texas we were staying (Houston) locals called a bottle of Budweiser a, "goose neck Bud." I was a damn Yankee; this is not to be confused with a Yankee. Damn Yankee is a northerner that stays and stays. A regular Yankee stays for the winter. Since I was a damn Yankee on contract fixing F-4C's at Ellington AFB, I strived to act like a local.

"Set me and my goat roping partner up with a couple of goose necks Bud's." If you ordered beer correctly you don't need a pickup with a 30/30 in your gun rack. You don't need a bent down straw cowboy hat. You don't need a pair of Levi's with a shoal circle. Forget about hitching down your Levi's with an illegal Texas state symbol pie pan belt buckle.

If you ordered incorrectly, you would be greeted by a couple of legal native Texans, usually shooting pool.

Texas would become silent. "Are you Yankees?"

If you're feeling tough or had too much beer this would be a good time to say something awful like, "Yeah, we are here to fuck all the fine looking women in Texas. Where's your sister? Where's your Momma? First though, we want to show you boys how to drink beer, and have a blood pissing contest. We can swing distance or go accurate. Then we will help out your neglected women; get them in tune with nature. We heard that you Texas boys liked dry sex with your favorite sheep."

Normally you will not get to the sheep part. Someone will be flogging you on the noggin with a single piece bar pool cue. After you go down, they drink your beer, pick your pockets and buy rounds. If you come to and aren't sticking to the floor, belly up to the bar, drink some free beer, you're paying for it.

The answer that works the best in Texas for the "Yankee" question is to say you are from northern Tennessee. The local native Texans will start singing songs about Davy Crockett and the Tennessee 400.

My advice is to not talk to much, let your drinking skills talk for you and order a "goose neck Bud." Do not slip and say, "Bottle of Bud." Do not say, "Long neck Bud." Do not even think about a can or stubby bottle. You are in Texas. Everything is bigger in Texas.

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My partner Dave and I were out chasing pussy in one of the local meat markets. Our normal routine would be to buy a cold six pack and wolf it down while driving to the local cheap ass beer dive. The low life bars will usually feature some big tittied girl from Michigan or Ohio performing barmaid duties. The reason I know this is because women from Texas do not have breasts. They feature the finest legs and ass on the planet. Tits---forget about it. This horrible problem is being solved by a massive influx of Yankee women who used to build cars on the assembly lines way up north. When they got laid off in Detroit, "why freeze your ass off, haul it south" They all showed up in Houston, the city of oil opportunity.

After prepping a full load of cheap beer, (Beer low level caution light off) we were off to the races. The Texas meat markets feature a giant bouncer at the door to collect the cover charge. I always push past them and mutter, "I'm with the band." If they do not have a band try, "I'm a local." If things get tough, pay. (That's when the bouncer picks you up with one hand)

We watched a big tittied girl whispering in the bouncer's ear, we hooked on in. My partner Dave is a hard drinking lad from Kentucky; unfortunately he is from northern Kentucky. He can smell the Yankee Ohio River from his porch. He gets mistaken for a Yankee sometimes. He is a likeable guy that is not too good with the ladies. He blames it on his crooked penis.

When Dave was a wee lad his parents didn't check with him before they had him circumcised. Dave came out of the creation hangar and was ramped and chocked by a doctor who was collecting penis skin. Dave believes that he was a shoe maker. He was making some custom penis shoes. You could not get them on until you kissed the shoes, all over. His wife must have been crazier then most.

The cut was long and deep. The resulting puckered scar tissue on one side caused Dave to have a bad case of bent dick. His favorite form of screwing was to get a nice piss hard on. His manhood would not be engorged enough to start the big bend. It would be solid enough to push in by hand and get some wiggling wet time. The added attraction of this technique was the healthy piss he took after sex. You will never get any dreaded VD type of diseases if you pee out the ugly germs. Dave, preferred "pumper's" older women that had pumped out a couple of kids. He figured that they had a bigger snapper on them.

I had advised Dave, after research in ancient manuscripts and various whore houses that the larger a females mouth the larger her snapper. I could always tell when Dave had a live one in play. He would be trying to jam his fist into her mouth.

Myself I'm a normal type of guy I like females big, and hirsute. (Red) If they can't kiss their own titties they need not apply.

Since we were damn Yankees we couldn't do the Texas two step. We counterclock wise circled the giant clockwise circle dance floor seeking prey. We couldn't do any of the other Texas circle or line dances. We were good at yelling "Bullshit." When the bullshit song (cotton eyed Joe) came up.

If the picking was bad we would head back to the local dives and reach out to some of the local Yankee bar wenches for a mercy fuck conversation.

One night I was feeling slightly froggy and tried the Texas two-step. (slow/slow-quick/quick) I don't remember too much about what the fat chicky looked like. I was concentrating on talking to my feet. Slow/slow-quick/quick. I was rejected on the dance floor. She said I talked and danced the two-step like a damn Yankee.

I determined that the best way to pick up a Texas chick is to use money.

"Dave, I have figured out these Texas chicks, watch this I'm going to do some cruising and will return with a hot chick."

I took out a hundred dollar bill. I lowered my zipper on my skin tight "Levi's" and jammed in the top of the bill. I carefully fanned it out for maximum exposure and zipped it into place and started a two step stroll, walkabout. (slow/slow-quick/quick) I was getting noticed.

My money cruising technique didn't work. I went back to drinking beer. We were doing standup bar drinking. We figured that we would look better if we had more to drink. Another theory is if the women did not meet our standards it would be easier to lower our standards, blame it on the beer. Plus the added attraction, you can put them (beer) down faster if you stand.

Serious beer drinking causes (for older guys) trips to the pee house. Most of the pee houses in Texas got a bathtub with a spray ring around it. This develops a red oxide ring. Everyone circle pees. If you have an embarrassing tiny penis you need to pee out back between the pick-up's. I believe the bath-tub is a copy-cat routine from "Red's Stateline Bar." I returned from the pee house.

Dave said, "Hey partner what happened to your cruising money?"

"Oh no," that sounded bad, I looked down. I knew what to expect, I had forgot all about the money. It was gone.

Then a local came out of the men's room. He was trying to wave a 100 dollar bill; it had a bent flop sticking to his wrist, too wet. "I'm buying, I'm buying a round. She's soggy but she will spend fine."

Dave looked over at me and said, "Well, what are you going to do."

I heard and watched my hundred dollar bill smack and stick to the bar.

I turned to the Bartender and said, "I'll take a goose neck Bud."