Download PDF by Tony D.: A Thousand Tiny Failures: Memoirs of a Pickup Artist

By Tony D.

In case you cherished The Game...

Sebastian had man-boobs, and lifestyles used to be a bummer...until he acquired surgical procedure and came across a web group of Pickup Artists. relocating to Montreal, he stumbles right into a international of events, intercourse, medicinal drugs, and drama - in simple terms to emerge with a brand new, yet questionable figuring out of himself, ladies, and the human situation.

Have you ever questioned, how lengthy will it take to discover good fortune with girls? Does this Pickup Artist stuff quite work?

What compels a guy to relentlessly flirt for activity, and at what cost?

Part guide, half hipster-Unicorn sexual experience tale, 1000 Tiny disasters is a hilarious and addicting novel, for males who are looking to increase, and girls who are looking to understand.

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Additional info for A Thousand Tiny Failures: Memoirs of a Pickup Artist

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I grabbed a headset, wiped it down with an anti-septic and plugged into my terminal. To my right was an eighteen year old white guy whom I often conversed with, mostly about chicks, and on my left, a new girl; young, brunette, nice legs. " the kid whispered, punching uselessly at his keyboard with one finger to throw off the boss. "I just got here. You tell me," I said. The boss was watching a monitor, so if anyone was off a call for more than two minutes he could yell at them. Then my screen lit up with a loud, "bleep," that always hurt my ears, alerting me to attention.

I was pre-selecting which toilet to throw up in, completely aware that I was a loser alone, not talking to girls—a selfconscious, poorly dressed guy with weird social anxiety issues in a strange city far from home. I got a beer, and then another, and felt quite naked drinking alone. All I had to do was say something, anything, to somebody. I slinked through the club, and was bumped around by the cruel dance floor before I made my way onto the terrace; it was packed with handsome hipsters—an ocean of American Apparel outfits under perfectly coifed hair, drinking Pabst beneath Chinese lamps.

Bukowski Made Me Do It I don't have real angst Not like war torn rape victims HIV riddled convenience store beggars Sex scandal politicians Unemployed ex-famous actors Tiny-dicked black men But I have worries Not like alcoholic test pilots Balding hairdressers Broke poker gurus Angry life coaches And your perpetually single, single mother Life is just like that... 62 Did I really make out with Eric? What the fuck? 63 Chapter 10 Factotum (Phone Sex) I arrived late to work at 9:15 am. My supervisor was sitting in the middle of the call center, in a booth overlooking the drones in their hot, clickity-clacking little cubicles.

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