Küte ünderhosen

When dealing with party promotions, you have to advertise with something eye catching, catchy, and remain simple. With a name like "Küte," G Lounge not only allures me with simplistic promise of something in the non-ugly category, but it also appeals to my love of all things Germanic, with its clever use of the umlaut. And who better to drag along with me than my German pornstar friend Lars.

Lately, I've been finding it hard to drag me away from my XBox 360 and PC. I've been finding hooking up while playing a round of Team Fortress 2 is about as easy as it is on Manhunt, if you know the right way to ROFL, but my friend John talked me into coming to one of his hot sex parties (and this was no different). There is nothing like a hot gangbang to refresh your taste for shirt staining adventure (which tastes a little sweet and a little salty).



With Lars in tow, we ventured out to G Lounge, no goals in mind, really, except to drink, catch up, and enjoy the thoroughfare as it were. As we walked in, I was given a lesson in German, being told that "Küte" means nothing. After a few minutes of slapstick style humor, it was finally cemented into my head that it means nothing and not "nothing." I also learned to say the useful phrase "Ich have kleine ünderhosen en."

For once, in my eyes, it had lived up to it's name of "lounge." It wasn't too packed at 10:30, and we were able to sit and relax. My prior visits were met with a full bar, long waits for drinks, and cramped moving, which I used to cop feels of hot guys.

After much talking and catching up with Lars, I took a gander around. The general crowd of G is, for some, a bit cliquey, but being generally unafraid of the gay population (isn't that "homophobia?"), I considered getting up to talk to a cute boy I saw from across the room. I looked over at a white guy who had corn rows, so instantly I thought of my homelands Iowa. While definitely looking strange, he had an air about him. He looked, like many of the people in the bar, important.

So I got up and puffed up my chest, looking confident, and strode across the room to strike up a conversation with the boy. In retrospect, puffing up my chest while wearing a Superman t-shirt might look a little on the geeky side. Needless, as I approached the boy, another came up to him, and excitedly, they kissed. Not just a friendly "Oh, I'm so excited to see you!," a long, tongue licking, love of my life kiss.

I made a B-line for the bathroom directly behind them. Upon my return, when Lars said he was tired, I concurred and followed him out. And truly, in an un-disappointing ironic way, Küte lived up to it's name: there were cute boys, good drinks, I went home with some German sausage still.