At last, something useful from Web Zen on BoingBoing, usually the home of a big “What? Whatever,” any time I check it out. But this makes up for many, many vintage Japanese vending machine item posts.
Although it must be said, these two do not look like they’d be my #1 choice for tikiization of my rec room. The funk factor here is, like the rec room, in the basement.
This comes from Atomic Magazine’s Fall 1999 issue — a very tongue-in-cheek set of instructions on how to build a tiki bar, designed to look like a family-friendly (until you read the finer print) construction kit from the 1950s.
In related news, this clever fellow has converted a VW van into a mobile tiki bar. Clearly he’s got it going on; who wouldn’t stalk him on the highway, just to be able to sit at this bar?
raincoaster 
Hey guys!
I found a new blog: edited out because it’s nothing but a splog, really
Check this site out, it`s so awesome!
Greets,
Phil
Welcome, Phil. Do that again and I’ll hunt you down and neuter you. Do not use my comments section for spamming.
No draught? No pool table? Only 2 seats? Well I hope at least it’s got a good HiFi.
Draught???? Pool table??? IN A TIKI BAR???
No wonder you sleep alone.
With a rig like this, some pineapples, and a bottle of Mount Gay, there would be no woman in a five-mile radius who could resist you.
Really? That’s what you Canadian chicks go for? Over here it’s more fast cars and credit cards. I aint got neither.
Nope, it’s universal. Trust me on this. Why not hit the pub tonight and ask a few girls their opinion? Girl drinks are a man’s best friend.
a) We don’t get mount gay over here as far as I Know
b) No-ones out on a Tuesday
c) I’ve just had a filling today so a quiet night tonight
Well print out a pic of the Tikimobile and take it with you the next time you go out. If nothing else, you’ll get credit for having something interesting to talk about. “So, I really want to know what you think of this…”
That’s so lame, I mean what kinda guy carries around a printout of some tin-can-cum-mobile-bar to try and impress girls with?
Over here we just get chatting and ask if they have a boyfriend.
I just checked all the links on your blogroll – how come I’m the only person you’re rude about?
I am not. You should see what I said about Newmania. And I believe you recall when I smacked Boris in the face on his own blog. Done the same with Guido from time to time. Hmmmm, is it any wonder they won’t hire me?
Steven, from what you tell me your method only gets you iced when they find out you don’t have a car or credit card. Why not try something else? Women don’t mind when it shows that you’re really interested in them.
‘iced’? Maybe I need to know more kewl slang from over the pond.
What did you call Newmania? Talking of Boris what do you think he will make of my limerick?
I take it by the ‘oh god’ you didn’t like it?
Steven, can you cook? Women love a man who can cook. And you don’t need a car or a credit card to have her over to your place for a delicious home-cooked meal!
(don’t worry too much about raincoaster and her tiki bars and girl drinks, I’m a girl, and I drink beer. Trust me on the cooking thing, though)
Yeah, but your husband will drink just ANYTHING. Steven is looking for a discriminating girl. Besides, if a tiki bar pulled up in the Farmer’s Market one day, you KNOW you’d be first in line, if only to check his permits.
Steven, I said that Newmania had evidently used the last of his brain cells to impregnate his wife, as his comments had suddenly gone all Charles Manson Stream of Consciousness.
I have no idea what Boris thinks, except that he doesn’t think he, himself, is a poet.
Your piece didn’t scan perfectly, but there was no particular harm in it. I’m more worried about the potential to set off more of that bloody erotic verse that we JUST got shut down. If Eliza starts posting more about lions and lactation, we’ll know who to blame.
Yeah I can cook, chinese, indian, italian you name it. I make an awful mess though and hate washing up.
Trust me, London girls are into money.
I think you’re going to the wrong bars. Go to bars where rich women hang out. Everybody loves a toyboy.
I think Steven’s got a point. From my experience the women of London are all aping the yuppie scum of The City. It’s all about mergers and dividends and how well you scored in the takeover.
Still–I’d try RC’s suggestion on the grounds that many of them aren’t actually as soulless as that deep down, and the ones who are often enjoy what they think is a daring bit of the rough. And while interesting never trumped rich, there are more girls than even the Sultan of Brunei can handle out there.
From what you write you’d at least be bringing your chances up from circa zero to more-than-zero.
In fact–I’d turn the carlessness into an asset; there are multiple approaches:
Tragic: “I had one, but after the accident I couldn’t face driving it, so I scrapped it. Oh it was a long time ago, but sometimes I still flash back to that little face, and the blood, and all those damn quills in the tyres … ”
Enviro: “Well I thought–why not put my money where my mouth is and reduce my contribution to global warming now?–We really have to think of future generations–our kids are going to have to clean up after us.” (Also lets her know you’re thinking of kids)
Economic: “Oh I had a Porsche, but I sold it when the congestion charge came in–d’you know you can drink two bellinis for the same money? How’d you like another bellini then? Or we could pop over to my place; I’ve got a Tiki bar in my flat. Well, more like a bottle of Mount Gay and a cardboard palm tree, but first things first, right?”
(I always ask if they want a Cuba Libre–sounds sexier and they don’t know it’s cheap bar rum and coke)
Oh–and why would you ask if they have a boyfriend?–Sooner or later you’ll find out. Preferably after a long hot shag while she’s crying on your shoulder, feeling guilty and imploring you: “Don’t tell anyone, please–I’ve never done anything like this before. It’d kill Simon/Alan/Bruce/Jaswal–and I couldn’t bear hurting him like that …”
Why would you care anyway? Either he’s a twerp and you’re better, or she’s just using you for sex (never allow her to put you in the sex-proof “friend” box), or she’s just about to dump him.