Tuesday, October 5, 2010


I just learned how to get around the firewall that was preventing me from blogging at work. It's the same loophole I use for gchat. I totally feel like Mark Zuckerberg when he got around all that shit in the Social Network to create Facemash...except I'm not a total douche or a billionaire...well maybe a douche. Expect daily blogs moving forward.

Thursday, May 20, 2010

My 1000th twitter post

I know I'm such a faggot for talking about twitter all the time. I never fucked with it in college because I was too busy being awesome, but now that I spend roughly 6 months a year wasting away in an office or on my way to it, it's the one thing that keeps me sane. That along with 4square, which is basicaly a game that me and my postgrad friends play to see who can drink the most during the week. Whatever social media is what it is. If you think its really gay you probably have better things to do so I solute you...that or you are a raging douche and you are afraid you will have an embarassingly low ammount of followers.

So the other day I was coming upon my 1000th tweet. I realized that this was a pathetic achievement but I should commemorate it in someway. I scoured the web for ideas. Some people wrote a self-depricating poem about how much time they have wasted, others made a statement of vanity, while some just simply wrote "1000."

I went another route, I though of how much I had said in those 140 character messages and what it could have been had I connected some non linear thoughts. It's only going to be a matter of time before some low concept book comes out...1000 tweets, a novel told 140 characters at a time. Sure shit my dad says is getting a tv show. But what if a famous author released his next novel exclusively through twitter. 140 characters at a time...one tweet a day. I promise you this is gong to happen.

But anyway, who gives a fuck, I wrote 35000 words and all I got out of it was a few laughs from others and made a few of my friends from Indianapolis realize how pathetic their broad ripple social scene is. But I guess the point of this post is...I'm not sorry, I'll keep tweeting just like you post on Lost message boards...and maybe with my next 1000 tweets I'll do somthing more important than announce to 183 people what bar I'm visiting and how drunk I am.

Friday, May 14, 2010


My blogging at work privileges have been stripped of me thanks to the faggoty new firewall at my work. So while other in my position would probably stop constantly surfing the web and reading NSFW blogs all day about the stupid bullshit that I actually care about (mainly movies and cats) and do some real work...uh fuck that.

I go to work for 3 reasons: Stare at my co-worker Jenna's tits, use the qtips in the bathroom (after googling porn on my blackberry during a 30 minute shit) and obtain an income as a front for my crystal meth dealing ring. How do you think that I afford this lavish lifestyle? Base plus commish? I sell smack to 12 year olds at Vernon Hills Middle School...that and my parents pay off my credit card. Go fuck yourself, you're just jealous, just like I'm jealous of people with cool jobs, private jets and female roommates that felatiate them daily. Basically I hate anyone that has a decided advantage over me and I kinda wish it was like comic books where I could defeat them and then obtain their power or their wealth and their stuff and their women...so ya. i.e. Taking out Travolta would give me Kelly Preston, a private plane and all of L Ron Hubbard's secrets...

So why am I laying on the couch at 730 writing a dumb blog about my unfulfilled fantasies while pressing the ignore button on my cellphone on a private number (read: creditor) I should be doing something relevant or at least trying to figure out a way to intoxicate myself so I forget how average my life really is...oh, hm...doorbell, cops, census people? Oh it's my crystal meth, gotta go!

Monday, May 3, 2010


I'm not really sure what remission means...I know if you have cancer remission is a good thing. However I am going to portray it in a completely different light.

Remission re·mis·sion noun- a temporary or permanent decrease or subsidence of manifestations of a disease.

A decrease of manifestations of a disease, that sounds like a particularly good thing. You had a problem and now it is at least temporarily gone. What if you problem is that you are a full blown alcoholic Thursday-Saturday. I would argue that during those 72 or so odd hours you are at the height of your disease; poisoning your body to the extent of slurred speech, loss of body functions and the systematic shutdown of many of your bodies core proccesses. However, during these intense periods of "disease" I feel like I could fight a Polar Bear in heat and/or beat Bobby Fischer in chess. I'm a fucking rockstar. Now just becaus my liquid confidence dictates that when embibed I can bring any karaoke crowd to its knees and pick-up any girl at any bar; this is not the issue at hand. When I am tanked I physically feel great, have more energy than an ADD 6 yr old and can party until 5 in the morning.

Then I wake up Sunday morning in a pile of my own urine/blood/vomit laying on a broken mirror in my closet with a tattoo that reads "I <3 black cock" on my forehead and I enter a state of remission. The toxins, or af I have loosely based my metaphor, the "disease" is slowly leaving my body and I want...to fucking...die.

No cold shower, water, greasy food, sleep, blow job, Advil, uppers, downers, crying, Hugh Grant movies, Steak N Shake Milkshakes, or even a nice back rub from my roommate can do anything about it. It is a feeling so miserable that I cannot put it into words, I can only tell you to go drink a fifth of tequilla, eat 80 mg of Addy, do this 4 nights in a row and then tell me how you feel on the fifth.

Some call it withdrawl, some call it a hangover, some don't even realize they have a broken arm until days later because of the throbbing in their temples is so severe. Light, sound become unwelcome and the only thing that brings temporary relief is running your head under cold water or the knowledge that perhaps vomitting will somehow improve your current state. It won't...

But sometimes for the true soldiers of fortune out there, there is a cure. Drag yourself to the kitchen, or your local corner pub and try to put down a 32 degree light beer, bloody mary, or mimosa...it will be one of the most difficult things you ever do. The first one will be the hardest, but then 2, 3 and four will become exponentially easier...you slowly transform from "I'm never drinking again" to "I'm kind of thinking I should go to Stanley's tonight." And as you let the disease re-enter your body and that you get your confident swashbuckling swagger back, you will be sure of one thing...remission fucking sucks.

Tuesday, April 27, 2010

Poison Ivy

I hate the Cubs, mainly because they are the archnemesis of my beloved St. Louis Cardinals. I despise their players, their stupid hats, obese coach and whining media. They always suck, yet year after year their is a buzz around this city that THIS IS THE YEAR. No it is not. This is the year that you once again get anally assaulted by the Cards and the rest of the National League...but I must say, I love Wrigley field.

Wrigley field is a dilapadated hell hole plopped in the middle of an affluent neighborhood surrounded by bars that encourage debauchery. On any given Saturday you can find an all you can drink bar crawl somewhere amid Addison and Clark with a theme that encourages alcohol poisoning and partial nudity. Your typical Cubs fan is a spoiled North Shore brat who will trade in their daddy's box seats so they can sit in the bleachers and catch a drunken coma by the bottom of the 6th. It's the polar opposite of your Jersey Shore-esque Sox fan who will brag to his friends how many overtime shifts his dad picked up the past weekend.

The rooftops, similar to the bars that surround Wrigleyville offer packages to groups of 20somethings that can booze and eat on a highrise townhouse while wearing their $200 Mark Prior jersey without the knowledge that he now teaches high school gym in Aurora. The day game schedule is also conducive for the unemployed Wilmette fan who can hop the purple to the red, go to the game and then empty their trust at Manor later that evening.

I may be apathetic about baseball and the Cubs but I have a feeling I will be calling in sick a lot this Spring...and to all those hooligans and smoking hot NT chicks that will be joining me in the $15 SRO's...cheers.

Wednesday, April 21, 2010

There's nothing little about it...

What is Little 5? That's what everyone always asks. It's just a stupid bike race is what most outsiders think. Some people will throw the Lance Armstrong quote about it being the coolest moment of his life, others will bring up the Academy Award winning movie made about it, and most frat guys will tell you it's a week in which "you get super fucked up!" But instead of me arguing that it's the greatest college week in the known universe or that it is what makes Indiana the greatest party school in the nation, I will instead try to encapsulate the true spirit of Little 5 with some commentary. And this will all be from the perspective of a Greek, so if you are a gdi, stop reading now and ban your IP address from further visits to this site.

The selection process: I would equate this process as similar to finding your prom date. It's very stressful, and it can make or break your high school legacy. If you end up with a B-team date outside the "in-crowd" you will forever be looked upon in memories as a loser, or even worse that you didn't even exist. Chapter rooms are abuzz with excitement as group BBM-chats explore every possible scenario in which the chips could fall. This decision not only determines the name of the sorority on the shirts you will be wearing or the girls that you are banging, but it ices your reputation on campus. (Because remember when you are in a frat you sacrifice all individuality and become 3 greek letters.) Then your social stands up in the middle of your president scolding a group of neophytes about the drano bomb they inserted in the house mom's office. "WE got (insert facey sorority here who has lots of hot chicks and a few unattractive slutty ones but even if you hook up with the later you can tell your boys at the bar that you slayed a ____ )" High fives ensue, and a drinking little 5 planning committee meeting immediately commences.

Planning the week: Little 5 goes Monday-Saturday. There is a function every night. Breaking the ice Monday is important, have to start things off right. A common theme could be speed dating or some sort of meet and greet function, lights should be on so everyone can select their mate for the week or at least plant a few seeds for the more fun days. Tuesday can be a week night, you should only expect about a 50% showing from the younger girls, all upperclassmen will be at the bars. Wednesday and Thursday need to be absolute blowout events. Band, concert, dj, fog, lights, sweat, shots, mix all those together and add a shitty college theme and you have yourself a legit little 5 frat party. But this is still a crescendo taking us to...

Boats: What is better than throwing 40 people on a double decker pontoon boat and setting asail with 3 kegs and 20 handles? You're right, docking that baby up to an 80 foot yacht (where do these Lake Monroe residents get their money?) and sucking on a 45 year old MILF's surgically enhanced titties. Boat parties have and always will be a strong staple of the little 5 tradition. Pissing in water, wearing lifejackets like diapers and floating around for 4 hours with a personal handle is pretty much the climax of all of my sexual fantasies...err just fantasies.

Then it's time for the main event...race day: 5 am, in a courtyard, outdoors, drinking...300 people in obnoxious jerseys/shirts/nude doing all sorts of tomfoolery that comes with the territory of drinking. Launching potato missiles across the street, 4 story beer bongs of Old Crow bourbon, sunny with a chance of beer-showers. This ensues for about 8 hours, until the race begins. The Greeks flood to the stadium marching 20 wide on a mission of victory. Several people are unconscious or bleeding, but everyone needs to go cheer for their respective team and threaten the lives of all the Cutters fans and call their girlfriends ugly. 200 laps later, the track is covered in literally the blood, sweat and tears of the eventual champion and everyone is ready to retire to the Jewish frat for a terrible rap concert that was co-financed by a banker named Silverberg and his son's drug money.

So that's it in a nut shell: 5 parties, a day at the lake, some bars and a bike race. But it's so much more. It's a celebration of spring, of all things alcohol and taking hedonism to the furthest stretch of the imagination. Hopefully you shacked at least one night in the dorms with a Freshman, avoided the tank, and won a fight with an ATO...it's little 5 man, go get it!

Wednesday, April 14, 2010

Editor's note

I've been told time and time again, that I don't focus enough on Chicago in this blog. Also people are mad that I never use names, from now on I will try to mention more landmarks and such that make you feel like you are along for the ride in my twisted delerium that is a "real world existence" i.e. instead of waking up in a dumpster, I will be waking up in the dumpster of Taco Burrito palace #2 off Halsted with a Goodbar bracelet on my left hand. I agree my rants should be more descriptive. However, this blog will remain anonymous because I don't know how to screen its visitors and if I lose my job bc of this and have to go on unemployment it will go against everything I stand for politically and shame my mock upperclass roots.

Tuesday, April 6, 2010


If you were in middle school in the late 90's and grew up in chat rooms then you had no problem interpretting that as that I am a 23 year old male living in Chicago and yes I do have a picture I can send you. However, now that I have gone through the stringent Marketing curriculum at IU I will more than likely photoshop Taylor Laughtner's abs and Peter North's cock to make myself some sort of superhuman, because really that's all I'm missing. Well that, ambition, the ability to grow facial hair and Tony Stark's bank accounts. Maybe I'll just get bitten by a random spider, play in a puddle of toxic waste and get struck by a meteor...but just my luck I wouldn't turn into Spiderman, the shapeshifting Captain America...I would probably end up looking like the elephant man, dying 3 weeks later to know fanfare or Facebook memorial groups.

I guess I'm really nerding out today talking about comic book super powers and how I used to prey on unsuspecting Lolitas in chatrooms posing as a 16 year old JV football player when I hadn't even sprouted armpit hair...(check that I still hadn't sprouted armpit hair when I was a 16 year old JV football player, but you get my point.) It's just that sometimes life is so average, so you look for escape in your dreams...so when you wake up after conquering a dark wizard, slaying a three-headed dragon and saving the princess your reward is to go to work. FUCK THAT. Do you think Mario had to go pull some shit out of some clogged plipes afetr he saved peach? He may have done some work on her plumbing but he definitely didn't go to work.

How can people be satisfied with normal. You go to college, you meet someone, you move in together, you get married, you have kids, you sacrifice all of your material items, dreams and happiness for those kids, they treat you like shit and you die. Why can't it be more like you go to college, you get a shitty job that makes just enought money for your mdma filled weekends, obnoxious bar tabs, and just enough cash left over to go dutch on that rando's plan B pill as you stop at CVS on the way to dropping her off...but then you buy gummy worms and make her pay for the whole thing...your calling her bluff that she will let her vagina go into ruin over 10 bucks that you won't give her.

Obviously I exagerate, but if you aren't going to a college night at Joe's on Weed or you can't muscle up the fortitude to check out karaoke night at Kincaid's on a Wednesday, move to the suburbs and unfriend me on Facebook because you and I are done. The real world is very much like the lyrics to Semi-Charmed Life, you don't know what they really mean until you get to college, and then you are like...holy shit this is all about crystal meth and escaping from reality...I don't get it...but then you kind of have that "Aha" moment. (Did that make sense or was that a shameless plug of my favorite song?)

Friday, March 12, 2010

going on a jonathon BENDER

Is he even in the league anymore? Who knows, in other news last night I unlocked the "College" four square badge. I don't know if it can track my mannerisms and decided that based on the places I still go I am a college student, or if my pure awesomeness transferred through osmosis to the service and they decided to reward me with the honor. Regarless to say, I am humbled by the distinction.

HOLY FUCK...it is once again Friday afternoon and I am bouncing off the walls. It is St. Pattys day weekend and there is nothing like getting straight pissed Irish style for a 48 hour straight bender. I might go for the Gordie Howe hat trick this weekend...fight a gdi, wingman for a friend, and eventually score a goal of my own. SO what is the key to having an absolutely perfect St. Pattys day weekend you may ask? The good news for you is I am going to take 9 minutes of my time watching the new Lady Gaga music video.

And then I'll take 5 minutes and map out what to do this weekend. ***9 minutes passes***

Bam let's go! FIRST start off tonight. A lot of brohaters are going to "take it easy" tonight. The only thing that you should "take easy" are your interpretations of sevel public decency laws this weekend. After going to happy hour for 3 hours, it is time to go home and get thoroughly sauced. I might suggest 151, everclear, or blowfish fin sake...(don't ask on that last one)

After staying up until 4 in the morning and fighting a bouncer after getting kicked out of a byob strip club for pouring champagne somewhere that it doesn't belong, I reccomend going to a breakfast diner and carbo-loading. Then my next stop will probably be a 7/11 to buy an entire case of 5 hour energy. I am yet to determine whether or not multiple 5 hrs taken at once will compound upon each other or not. I suppose I will find out tonight if taking 50 will keep me energized for 48 hours.

...drunk tired sweaty bleeding...i don't care what kind of state you are in. Come 7am you best believe that I am taking a shot of Jameson, bonging a guiness, and bombing a car. (Not the popular drink, literally finding a random car and bombing it. The IRA would be proud.)

After racking up a handful of felonies before the time your Monday alarm usually goes off, it is time to get really serious. Meet up with your friends, go to a bar, dye your liquor green, whatever it is that you need to do in the AM do it. Talk with an Irish accent, wear obnoxious green pint glass sunglasses. You should then spend the next 12 hours acting like a McManus brother by drinking anything that you see, smoking a lot of cigarettes, and filling bad guys with lead. I would go on forever, but I literally am too excited and I can no longer type.

Happy St. Patty's Day.

P.s. It would be an acceptable action to call in sick Monday.

Friday, March 5, 2010

Friday at 4:46

Wow, this is the happiest time of the week. Always...aside from the fact that we graduated in a shitty job economy and therefore despite the fact that I studied at a top 20 business school I work in the suburbs instead of on the 72nd floor of a downtown skyscraper and therefore will spend the better part of my Friday night battling traffic...fuck it, I'm free.

Whether you ar going to happy hour right now, or meeting your drug dealer in an alley to get acid so you can "thoroughly" enjoy the Navy Pier Imax version of weirdo Tim Burton's Alice in Wonderland, you are planning on doing something awesome right now. It's 42 degrees, I might throw on some J Crew chino's why the fuck not? And oh yah, I have a ton of work to get done right now, and I'll be out of the office Monday and Tuesday...I am going to come back to a total shit storm here, I over promised and underdelivered all week. But do you think I take my work home with me or even worse, on vacation? Absolutely fucking not!

This brings us to the issue of me having a flight at 5 am, and the fact that I have made a firm commitment to drinking starting after immediately after I get off the tollway...I still have a 20 mile drive after that btw, but there are markedly more cops on the tolls than the regular freeway which is total bullshit, for the price of a BK double cheeseburger you should be able to drive as fast as you want on the damn tollway.

That said, I give myself about a 25% of packing for this trip, about a 40% chance of making my flight, and about a .08% chance of being sober enough to drive to the airport at 4 am...(HAHA GET IT .08 is the LEGAL LIMIT and its also a REALLY LOW NUMBER, I AM SO CLEVER!!!)

By far the douchiest part of that last aside was the triple exclamation points, in my opinion at least. Even though you may not be vacationing with celebrities this weekend on someone else's dime, you can still party like a rockstar. Drink a lot, spend a lot, stimulate the economy...Happy weekend, get yours!

Thursday, March 4, 2010

Your Blog Fucking Sucks

I don't give a shit about your kids or your amateur poetry. I don't want to see a picture of the Christmas tree that you spent hours decorating or the meal you prepared all afternoon. Oh, a post about a trend you've noticed in social media? Fuck you, you think your thoughts are relevant? You have an opinion on health care and global warming...great it doesn't fucking matter what you think, you are a peon...if life was Monopoly you are Baltic Avenue. Don't post links come on, really? An interview with the man who is revitalizing the Domestic auto market...you and me, we're fucking done. You know why? Your blog fucking sucks!

It's all horrifying. "My quest to eat nothing but unprocessed food for 6 months...o golly I don't know how I'll live without Qdoba!" That is the lame ass premise of most blogs. Some pathetic meaningless person is trying to accomplish something, or share their opinion of what they think about a laundry list of things. They will try to be witty, use a big word every now and again. It makes them almost feel as if they have creative license the way their favorite authors might. I wish I could be the first to tell them that periodically saving data to a free webserver doesn't make you an author. In fact the only people that read your stupid blog are your girlfriend and your mom. I suppose my thoughts on Blogging directly correlate to how I feel about Twitter. Do not use the power of the written word to render an opinion you judge to be relevant.

Filmdrunk, Brobible, pretty much everything on Uproxx...they have it figured out. They use the word "fuck" they tell funny stories, and I'm pretty sure I would enjoy having a beer with most of their readers, whereas I have no interest in talking about the current job climate with the creator of joesthoughtsonlife.wordpress.com.
The reason people read blogs is because they are bored...which is really the only reason anyone ever does anything. If I was completely happy and content to sit on a couch and stare off into space I would never watch tv, read books, drink, work out, write or see movies. But I fucking hate working, and I hate sitting on the couch alone in the dark, alas I complete one of the aforementioned tasks. Furthermore, I receive no enjoyment from reading about a fun new recipe, or your child's first steps. I like to read headlines like this "Al Pacino is a creepy old perv" or "Killing a case solo: It's possible."

Call me immature, or a hypocritical douche bag, but I promise that this blog will always come with drunken tomfoolery and humor-filled social commentary...and if you think my blog sucks, that's fine...you're probably a hard-working liberal with blue collar parents who has a chip on their shoulder due to watching people like me grow up priviledged...suck it.

Tuesday, March 2, 2010

Random Bruises

It's Tuesday afternoon which is usually about the time of the week that I either come to out of my blackout or my hangover has subsided enough for a little physical evalutaion. Now this past weekend was pretty run of the mill, a couple bars, a bit of day drinking, a hockey game...but nevertheless BAC's of .4 and above were undoubtedly reached. This is why on Tuesday afternoon, I am bruised from head to toe, walking with a limp, have half my voice, and a polo covered in blood.

Why does this happen? Who knows, I never remember these personal injuries that I incur while moonlighting for 48 hours as a weekend warrior. I compare it to the Bond villain in The World is Not Enough who due to nerve damage can feel no pain. I'm sure in the midst of my memory lapses the pain may be excrutiating but since I am barely conscious at the time of these accidents I chalk it up to bad nightmares. Unfortunately like those of the kids from A Nightmare on Elm Street, I wake up and the damage is still there. And you know how much Freddie hates kids that seemingly get drunk, fornicate, and have a good time...in fact maybe that was the underlying theme of all those 80's slashers...the killer never existed, he was just a figment of the teens' blackout, they were really inflicting the damage upon themselves only with the help of their pals Jimmy Beam and Jack D.

No worries though, like Elizabeth Taylor's heart after divorce number 7, my body will heal only to be destroyed again a week later...and like a frat paddle on bare ass, it hurts a little less every time.

Thursday, February 18, 2010

Floating Holidays

I bet responsible people budget their floating holidays to correspond with family gatherings such as Christmas or Thanksgiving. That's fucking dumb. Why the hell would you add an extra day by the fire watching the Macy's parade when you can take it right away and go to Aspen? Responsible people probably budget their vacation time as well or even worse let it roll over to the next year. Anytime I hear someone say, "Oh I can't go on this trip, I can't take the time off work." Or the people that go on vacations but still check their work email? Are you fucking kidding me? WHo cares how the market performed today or if the McNally deal went through or not. You are on a beach with a cocktail. You should be thinking "too close for missles, I'm switching to guns" and befriend the tiki bar server and take tequilla shots with him.

The only thing I think about when I get back from a vacation, is my next vacation. In fact sometimes I talk about my next vacation on my current vacation. I fucking scribble that shit all over the place at my desk, talk about it all day, it reminds me that if I can survive until said date I will be free. In the span of Q1 2010 I will have been on 3 major vacations, and several other getaways. I use a mixture of unpaid vacation time, sick days, and #floating holidays to do this. It helps that I don't have to pay for housing in the Bahamas, Vegas and Aspen, but someone who makes less than a salaried manager at Sonic shouldn't live this sort of lifestyle.

Quick side rant, people that call in sick when they are sick are idiots. You should come in when you are sick and do absolutely nothing. One of two things will happen, you will be sent home and NOT docked a sick day or you will just sit there and do nothing, no one will expect you to do anything if you are obviously sick. Sick days are for hangovers and unapproved vacations (cough cough I'm sick..."Peanuts, get your peanuts.") Yes Sick days are great for Day Games. End Rant.

I think I'm nearing some sort of hypothesis, quick interjection...when I write this blog I never have any idea what direction I'm going to take it...I just Go. AT some point I find a rational (or irrational) though and I just follow it. Right, well then, I think what I am trying to say is...nothing could ever make me a slave to my job. If I was on the beach and I checked my work email and found out something terrible...I would still be on the beach, why would you check your work email? If something bad is in there and you don't look at it...you'll never know. It's kind of like why I never check the mail at home, it's probably just bills, I feel like if I don't acknowledge them, they will just go away or something.

Jet-setting every weekend in the winter is great, and while it may not be the most fiscally responsible decision, I'm living in the now. I might plan a spring break for late March after this blog post, because when I'm 40, I'm not going to look back on the time that I was 23 and made 50 cold calls on a Monday morning in March. I'm going to remember tearing Ajax to shreds and then getting shattered at Erick's with some ski bums. In fact when I am 40 I will probably have a wife, kids, never get laid and my only vacations will be annual trips to Disney World...now is the time for the irresponsible bender paid for by money I don't have using the vacation time I haven't accrued. Don't think...just do.

Friday, February 12, 2010

Blowing off steam

I feel like a total douche...I only posted once this week, and it was just a link to some other really great article. I had just a miserable week...like literally one for the ages. I got yelled at by every single one of my managers at work for something every day...I was in traffic for a record 24 hours this week due to an impromptu snowstorm...and oh ya, the Colts lost the fucking superbowl.

A bad week in college was getting kicked out of a bar before 2 am, back to back whiskey dick episodes, or an 8 am interview on a Friday...that was it. Now I deal with that shit like twice daily...its called life. So what do you do when the world turns its back on you? (you turn your back on the world hakuna motata?)

No, you drive down to St. Louis to get fucking shit-housed for 2 days to forget about how much your present life sucks. For 48 hours I will make hurricane jokes about the real mardi gras because I now have a lifelong grudge against New Orleans, and because of some age old tradition, I will throw plastic beaded necklaces at drunken 17 year olds and get a free peep show to some high quality live action lolita porn (too much? maybe who cares.)

I've been jet setting a lot lately and my actions are spiraling quite out of control, my friends are in the early workings of staging an intervention. (Oh the irony the kid behind me just put on Joe Walsh's Life's been good to me so far) on that note if my current actions leave me unable to talk due to substance induced strokes when I'm 60 but I can still shred the guitar like the Eagles' axe-man, well, I'll chalk life up as a success.

Mardi Gras is a holiday that was turned into a booze juiced party ebcause it falls in the middle of winter...depressing. Maybe this mini-bender will spark some life back into a once vibrant and joyful individual...or maybe my vices will get the best of me this weekend and I'll come back with some great war stories but just a little bit more emotionally hollow...

...or maybe I'll find the girl of my dreams and by her a Vermont Teddy Bear for Valentine's day...stay tuned my friends.

Wednesday, February 10, 2010

The Anti-bro

Read this article...have a good laugh...and then write a condescending comment calling this kid a fag.

Friday, February 5, 2010

Into the wild

I have become so disgusted with the hipocrisy and the self-absorbed nature of these ignorant and narrowminded egocentric Americans that I have decided to selflessly take upon myself an act of moral cleansing by burning all of my possessions and going into the wilderness to find meaning in life...

Fuck that. I represent literally everything that is wrong with America. Not only do I spend money that I don't have to keep up my socialite status, the only 2 things I ever consider when making a decision is the direct impact it will have on me and the perception others have of me...and I am largely devoid of emotion.

That said, I am going north of the border today to some mythical location called the Wisconsin Dells. While I am going to stay in a luxurious cabin on a cul de sac near a resort, I like to think that it is adventurous. I've always wanted to take a shotgun and a case of beer out into the woods and just start shooting shit, but I think that I will treat this trip as if I were going to a lake house...except there is snow on the ground, and no lake...and no boat. I am mandating that the girls still remain in swimsuits the entire time.

Lake house weekends are always legendary as the highlight is usually getting outrageously drunk with people you have been friends with for 10 years+ playing very intense card games, violent tubing battles and usually some accidental/intentional nudity of some sort, but I digress...

The Wisconsin Dells must be the tackiest place on Earth...In the middle of nowhere some idiot had the great idea to put a wax museum, a haunted house and a big ass indoor water park. Along with strip clubs and casinos this place is just begging for a group of bored twenty somethings to come burn it to the ground, and I will be happy to oblige. On the 3 hour car ride up I am going to be live-tweeting the effects on "Purple drank" (cough syrup, vodka, grape soda, xanax) on my pals...I shall obstain, because I don't want to pull a Brittany Murphy...I'd much rather pull a Janis Joplin...some day there will be consequences for the decisions that I'm making now...but fuck it they'll probably have cures for everything and free liver replacements in like 2 or 3 years anyway...replace every 30,000 blackouts.

Wednesday, February 3, 2010

Spring Break 2010

It sounds ridiculous right? I graduated college less than a year ago...it's over no more Spring Breaks. That couldn't be more false! If I had knocked up my high school sweetheart back in '04 and was now taking my family to Disney World for a week in March no one would frown on that (except for the unprotected sex at 17, the high school pregnancy, the fact that ruined that poor girls life and made her live at home with her mom raising your child while you went to college and joined a frat.) But, who says you need an unfortunate excuse to take a week off from the real world and go to the beach and rage. Not me.

The concept of Spring Break was probably invented by some thirty year old Bro who hated his job, the Chicago weather and thought if he took his wife and kid to Florida for a week they would get off his case for a few months. What a hero, he basically imposed his will on society making it mandatory for every school to take an arbitrary week off just before it gets nice in the midwest, and made society accept high school and college kids storming quiet beach towns in the south and destroying them upon arrival.

His legacy is not lost on me, I intend to honor him by doing exactly that. Ok, by this point I would hope I have you sold on the early 20's March vacation. Now if it tragically happens to coincide with college spring break would you immediately villianize me? I should hope not! I'll take it a step further, much like a trip down to the homeland I may just crash on a buddy's couch, I mean, hotel room floor. If you're going to do something you might as well do it right.

I never took a domestic Spring Break when I was of age. Mainly because I enjoy spending my parents money like it's water and I love shoving my exotic travels down the throats of those less fortunate than I.

*Sidebar: There are a lot of categories of people that I can't stand. But I think right at the top of my list is people that go on Spring Break. I understand if you are in 4th grade and daddy got some of his overtime shifts pulled and he has to take you to King's Island for a day instead of taking you to a coast or a mountain for a week...but those high school and college morons who just go home and "relax" or "save money" make me want to vomit. I mean COME ON...either you don't have friends or you don't have a soul. A proper Spring Break can be done for $300. (Although its much more fun when you spend $2000) End sidebar.

I always wondered what it would be like to rage in Key West or Daytona as a 21 year old. Obviously throughout high school and early college I knocked out the mainstays of Siesta Key, Panama City, Ft. Meyers, Miami, to name a few. But I really wonder how badass it is going to be to rip it for a week with my college buddies and 2,000 chicks who are impressed by any dude that buys them more than 1 vodka red bull.

Creepy, eh, a little. Peter Pan Syndrome at its worst? Probably. Is it going to be a legendary trip for the ages? Oh ya. Maybe I'll fly, maybe I'll roadtrip, (sometimes these car rides make great memories.) Regardless of what I end up doing, I hope I have inspired you to do the same.

Monday, February 1, 2010

Let's do dinner and drinks

Such a popular text, tweet or facebook status update: The infamous dinner and drinks. Now while I usually have no problem with a same-sex rendevous at an establishment that boasts both delicious entrees and heavily garnished cocktails, the phrase dinner and drinks drives me to insanity.

I don't know if people offer these arbitrary encounters out of an obligatory sense of losing touch or they want people to think that they are sophisticated because "going for dinner and drinks" is such a mature thing to do. I mean why not catch a revival of "South Pacific" at a community theatre while you're at it. I suppose this dinner and drinks idea just stands against anything I could ever be in favor of. It implies polite conversation at a trendy spot, ordering an expensive meal, becoming lightly buzzed and then awkwardly fumbling over the check when your waitress assumes you are a gay couple out for a night on the town and fails to split it. (An assumption that would have never been made in the 1950's) So there you are with someone who you aren't great friends with enduring an awkward stand-off for who will pick up the bill. You cave, of course, and now you are $100 lighter in the pocket, sober and you don't even get to take your date home and relieve some aggression.

Perhaps I am being a bit cynical, but I view the entire concept of "let's grab dinner and drinks" as laughable. Look how adult we are, but we are also fun because we can go out and casually drink...on a work night whooooooaaaaa.

I am not however opposed to going out to eat and getting serious on the consumption...listen to how I tell pretty much the exact same scenario but with a different attitude, I go from sounding like a prissy C-muscle to a straight up bro.
"Hey you want to go to Uncle Julio's and see how long it takes for us to get kicked out?" I am still implying that I would like to go on a man-date to a food establishment, but instead of trying to convince people I'm so adult by using the catchphrase "dinner and drinks" I basically asked if my partner in crime would like to accompany on a bit of midweek binge drinking at an establishment that just so happens to serve tacos.

So next time one of you is considering asking me whether or not I would like to accompany you to get something to eat, just ask with a little bit of integrity and I will be more than happy to oblige you.

Friday, January 29, 2010


No not going to be a long-winded post about how awesome Vegas is, especially on your birthday. I just wanted to tell everyone how awesome I am in the form of some good prose.

Upon returning from the Bahamas I did what any single guy in his mid 20's would do, I never unpacked it. In my drunken stupor this morning, I realized I had not packed, fortunately I am a lazy frat guy, and my Bahamas gear was packed and ready to go.

I figure it will be approximately the same weather, and if its above 45 you better fucking believe I'm wearing shorts and flops. Hopefully I shall return with some good war stories. Until then my friends.

Wednesday, January 27, 2010

What would you do with $100,000

This is a question my boss asked my team members yesterday during out weekly meeting.

I suppose its a reasonable enough question. The reason people work is to make a living, and the point of his question is that he thinks we should all be making that much money in our third year. So the responses began:

Uh, I would buy a ferrari. Typical gdi response, go blow your whole load on some quick car that you won't know how to drive, afford the insurance for, or be able t fix when you crash into a lighpost doing burnouts in a parking lot with your one friend.

Next, I would put a down payment on a house...responsible, but GAY. Why would you ever want to own a house in the suburbs when yu are in your mid 20's? Is that what the American Dream has come to? Moving away from all your friends in the city, in with some chick who is going to make you miserable? Didn't this clown see Revolutioanry Road? That ended really well!

Pay off my student loans. OK, I know it sucks you weren't priviledged enough to have your parents pay for college...I've heard this sob story a thousand times, but for the perfect of this exercise would you pretend to not be an attention craving whore and just use some imagination. I do not feel sorry for you, and I will never apologize for the fortunate hand which I was dealt.

Go on a really nice vacation and invest the rest, don't even get me started. Put it in a college fund for my daughter...well at your daughter won't end up like the aforementioned Betsy Bluecollar who is in 6 figures of debt, but still a pathetic answer.

These pathetic, responsible, unimaginative responses continued until it was my turn to respond...I took a moment and surveyed the room and then said this:

Honestly, if I was handed $100,000 I would quit my job and stop working all together for the next 2 years. I would blow money on travel, alcohol, and other vices. I would sleep until about noon every day and go out every night, I would be constantly drinking. I would go on every road trip that was ever suggested. I would still buy Smirnoff instead of Grey Goose and still order off the McDonalds dollar menu. I would also buy a lottery ticket every day hoping that I would win so I could prolong this lifestyle. I would probably go somewhere new every weekend and rage. I would hire someone to do my laundry once a week. I feel like spending an average of a little more than $4000 a month I could sustain this lifestyle for a good 2 years. AT the end I would be broke and have nothing to show for my 2 year bender...but maybe, just maybe, I will have found some purpose in my life or found the will to grow up. Maybe in this time I will develop a passion or find someone that I truly care about...but if I had 100 grand RIGHT NOW...that's what I would do.

After a long silence my boss simply said..."Well that's one way to do it."

Monday, January 25, 2010

A new study shows...

...that every post grad visit to your alma mater decreases your life expectancy by a year. I mean it is one thing to go back for a tailgate or even a basketball game. However, blacking out within your first hour of drinking and having a staff member at a bar dedicated to following you around making sure you do a limited ammount of damage to yourself and/or others...well that is why my friends have started calling me the Toys R Us kid.

But why not? In this world where everyone is trying to fast forward through their life, i'm hitting the pause on my Tivo. Maybe I'm immature and my charming irresponsibility is starting to turn pathetic. I'm having a hell of a time doing it though, all you have to do is make it through the day...and if my antics bring a smile to someone's face or make someone feel a little alive again, then I'm not pathetic, I am a superhero. Really I am, my superpower is awesomeness. Superman can fly, Spiderman can shoot gizz out of his wrists, I can keep the dream alive one day at a time.

However, going back to the first line of this post, if that bullshit stat I made up has any truth to it, I've already shaved off a half decade in the past 6 months. I probably won't live forver, but the shit that I've knocked out in 22 years? Wouldn't change it for the world.

Friday, January 22, 2010

I want to be a problem drinker when I grow up

I used to have these books when I was growing up that had a hole in the middle. It was one of my toddler pictures. The hole then created the illusion that I was the star of the book. The series was about what you want to do when you grow up. When I'm a major League Baseball Player... would show have a face cut-out of a person hitting a homerun...but with my picture it became me! They had fireman, athlete, cowboy, knight, you know all the shit that a 5 year old wants to be when they grow up.

What they didn't have was: When I'm heartless self-centered alcoholic. I think this would be a solid addition to the series, you could give this to underpriveledged children as a warning of what's to come. Can't you just picture it. There's a picture of a clearly drunken bafoon, cigs in one hand, his equally blacked out prize trophy for the night occupies his other. He is clearly unshowered, but is wearing at least a $200 wardrobe...and right in the middle of that beautiful facial cut-out is my smiling face circa age 5. You could have a whole series of these: When I'm in credit card debt, When I discover amphetamines, When I have a raging failure to launch and want to live with my friends in a mini frathouse forever and go back to the place that I went to college every other weekend...ok maybe that last one I'll save for the name of my autobiography. Moving on.

The point of these books was to inspire little kids to crave the real world. Growing up you are always told to be excited for the "next step." Next year I start first grade! Next time I go to King's Island I'll be tall enough to ride The Beast! My first pube! Middle School! High School! Sex! College! I was looking forward to all of these things long before they happened. But for the first time in my life, I'm not excited to be here. I don't want to be a cop or a firefighter or a ninja. I want to watch movies and get fucked up. I don't go out to the bar to make social connections or find a girl to bring home. I go because there are a bunch of like minded people there with the right attitude...the real world sucks, but as long as we are at this bar; nothing else matters.

Maybe I have a bill due...so what. Girlfriend dumped you? Who cares. Alcohol is like a stay of execution. You can use it to temporarily push your problems out of your head. If only I would have known about this little loophole when I was worried about a bad report card or had to get a detention slip signed by dad. I realize that eventually all of my friends are going to grow up, get married and I will end up just like Jason Segal from I Love You, Man. But until then I'm going to keep giving myself that temporary stay of life, and live in the moment. Some may say Seize the day....I say procrastinate the party.

Thursday, January 21, 2010

Top 10: Why Thursdays in the real world rock

Once a week I will attempt to make some sort of top 10 list that will be shamelessly graphic and self-serving. Today we will focus on Thursdays, which one would think would block some major cock post college (when worst case scenario you had class...and even if you did...it was class.) The rush hour is the worst of the week, getting people to come out is like pulling teeth, and you have to wake up at 630 tomorrow morning. But it's not all bad, and these are a few reasons why:

10. Drink Specials- If you live in a big city you are no stranger to anal rape via the price of drinks. A round cost $80 for you and your 5 friends. Fortunately a few bars out there will still offer a good special Thursday night and everyone will congrugate there...cheap and packed, double whammy.

9. You don't have to be a hero- Most people on a Thursday night won't be dragging you to the 5 am bar unless its a particularly epic evening. This allows you to close early and still get a few hours of sleep.

8. A welcome hangover- Being hungover at work may suck to some...I love it. It makes time travel. You spend the morning joking with co-workers about how fucked up you got the night before, then after lunch you feel like a miracle and it is Friday afternoon. Bonus.

7. Warm ups- You ever see Lebron take the court without a brief shoot-around, or Peyton face an opponent without studying some film? Thursday is a perfect little preseason game to your weekend. The competition may use Friday as their warm-up, then they in turn have a much shorter season. If you play it conservative, you can plant the seeed Thursday, make-out Friday, and Saturday close...or you can always be a champion and go for the Threepeat.

6. Low key- Thursday nights are great for getting a booth with some friends and sipping on some pops and shooting the shit. You never remember the drug induced nights that you rage your face off on Friday and Saturday. Hey, your friends are pretty cool. This can be your chance to actually enjoy it...Warning: blackouts still regularly occur on low key evenings.

5. A Team- Everyone and their mother comes out on Friday and Saturday nights, similar to how even losers and GDI's get realllly pumped for New Years. Think of Thursday night as a members only event. You can trim the fat of the social scene because the dorks will be busy playing Madden in their parents' basement, god forbid going out on a work night.

4. Weekend planning- How many times have you gone into a Thursday night without any definitive plan for the weekend, had a few shots and ended up planning a roadtrip to Nashville...not enough.

3. Statistics- The law of averages says that for each added attempt your chances of success >= 1 increase exponentially. Picture Roulette. You put your money on red twice...you have approximately a 25% of losing both times. 3 times...drops to 13%
You have an 87% chance of getting laid at least once if you go out Thursday. Can't argue with Math.

2. Wake up call- Ever wake up and your shacker is still there, and you want her to leave but are unsure how to broach the subject? Try this. "I'm going to work now...see ya."

and the number 1 reason Thursdays still rock and you should go out and seize the day...

1. Why the fuck not??? - You are young and fun and work performance doesn't really matter. With age it will become less and less socially acceptable to hit the town on a Thursday, but at this point society isn't quite calling it a felony. When you wake up 30 years from now there is no way you will say to yourself...I shouldn't have gone out that random Thursday in January of 2010...but you might ask yourself, I wonder what I missed out on. Don't ever let that question come into your life.

RT: @Bro Hey! @opinionatedBIM #shutup

In English that says: I agree with the Bro that told the opinionated bimbo to shut up.

This pretty much sums up how I feel about every person on Twitter who posts politically motivated links or makes statements about how they are horrified aboutt he earthquakes in Haiti. Worse even when they share little links from Ad Age about trends in social media and marketing forecasts ten years out. Listen here...tweeting Advertising/PR articles is not going to change that you are an unemployed Telecom major working an unpaid internship living on your parents' dime. It's almost as if these people think that the HR departments for Leo Burnett and 42 West are just scouring the twitterverse for intelligent people with relavent thoughts to DM: "Hey great Tweet! Would you like your dream job"

To all the wannabe Don Drapers of the world, let me share with you the inevitable, your best shot is to just go into sales. Then you can at least have a paycheck and lie to yourself about how it's only temporary and you will go after your dream once you make the adjustment to the real world. (Except for me, like REALLY I'm going to L.A. to write in less than 2 years #dreamon)

As for those political tweeters and those that talk about current events. All you are doing by trying to prove your intelligence is really leaving yourself vulnerable to the fact that posting a link does not show your knowledge of a topic...it just makes half of your so-called "followers" feel strong animosity towards you. Talking about catastophes internationally doesn't make you worldly, nor that you have a soul, it just proves that you couldn't think of anything clever to say, therefore you came with a very generic statement in which people agreed with in an attempt to stay relevant.

Then there are the egocentric bunch. These are the people that are convinced that until they inform you of their current whereabouts, you will be on the edge of your seat holding your breath until....@ArrogantBra Taking a nap. GASSSSSP! Almost started turning blue waiting on that tidbit of fun. Inside jokes, small-appeal picture posts, commenting on a trending topic, boasting an accomplishment, invoking the weekend, or taunting others about your paradise vacation...frowned upon, but then what would be the point of twitter?

Social sattire. That's what I think is great. Looking at the degenerates who talk about the trending topics, I find it incredible that some of these people have internet access. It is, however, a laugh riot to see what @LaRonDaMonstah has to say about #arealbabymama. I also have some general interest in what a few of my favorite friends, celebrities, and athletes are up to. I find John Mayer's immature feud with Perez Hilton to be fantastic, and if OchoCinco ever comes to a Chicago McDonalds to buy everyone a snackwrap, I want to be the first person to know about it...

...in fact the irony of this post is that I generally violate every single one of these rules reguularly. While I may find it nauseating to know that a buddy is getting off work early, or one of my ex-girlfriends is about to take surfing lessons in Hawaii; I will always be the first person to say..."Boss gone all week, blogging and reading scripts! AWESOME!" or "Mom just paif off my credit card, bet debt sucks!" but that is because I generally regard myself as a classless, tactless bafoon.

As I classify myself as the poster-boy for hypocrisy I must sadly say: @blogreaders gotta go rock a stallnap #readyfortheweekend.

Wednesday, January 20, 2010

You can't spell bro-hater without ER

My blogging has been sparatic as of late. After my week in paradise I returned to deal with alledged warrants, severe substance withdrawl and a storytelling experience that ended in the ER. By the way I'm not going to harp on the Bahamas because pretty much everyone that reads my blog was there, and if you weren't you for sure don't want me to spend 3,000 words talking about how much better my weekend was than yours. That said, I'm going to skip to this past Sunday when I made a very bad decision.

The decision was to drink during the football games. This may sound reasonable, normal people toss back a few dad pops while they watch playoff football. However, normal people don't take handle pulls at the same rate at which an average adult male sips his beer. Needless to say, by the 2nd half of game 2 I was grandstanding about, saying inappropriate things in front of women and dropping the C bomb in front of total strangers and talking about which of their friends I had plowed...not good.

So there I am in my Colts snuggie and my Spring break 09 cutoff, mid-story talking about some female that rubs me the wrong way. And in an attempt to channel my inner Edward Norton I describe and then act out how I would like to curb stomp this person...well I curbstomped my bare foot directly into a piece of broken glass.

Blood everywhere. My roommate performed an unsucessful surgery on me as I screamed obscenities and continued to paint our apartment with more dna than a moderate crime scene. After a while I calm myself down and wrap it up...somehow everyone decided to leave the blackout drunk at home alone while they all went out...perfect.

Wallowing in my misery and starting to feel a bit woosey I started to channel surf...when BAM Golden Globes. About the only thing I like as much as going out, is movies...I was set. Much like getting pulled over by a cop this moment was instantly sobering and I rattled off my picks on Twitter and went nearly 100% That's neither here nor there though...let's proceed shall we?

So the show is over, I have completely stopped bleeding and I am getting texts telling me that there has not been a more fun night out at a bar since the night I realized bottles of Cooks were only $15!

So I go out...it kinda sucks...I go to a diner and realize I have been dragging behind me a pool of blood all night. Not feeling like going to the ER for something that should be fixed with a wet rag and tweezers, I deny my injury and go to bed.

The next day I couldn't walk so I hopped to my car and drove to work. After about an hour of hopping around the office my boss sends me to the hospital. Of course I don't have my insurance card on me. I don't know where I officially live. I sleep in Illinois, but I think I still have everything billed to my parents...uhh whatever.

I check in, glass in foot sounds pretty routine...almost an embarassing procedure for someone who spent 8 years in med school. I get in there and the nurse gives me the awkward interogation...alcohol, sex, drugs, nicotine...duh. Let's have a look at that foot.

Three words you never want to hear the nurse say..."OH MY GOD!!!" WTF happened? I told you I stepped in some glass...ya I know I lost some blood. Then why didn't I come to the emergency room, how much was I drinking, why is there dead body tissue falling out of the bottom of your foot. After 45 minutes she has removed most of the dead tissue and blood off of my feet, using up 2 buckets and about 5 towels. In comes the Dr. He gives me 12 shots amidst me screaming. 1 tetanus, 1 horse steroid, 10 numbing shots. Then he digs for a while. I can't feel a thing, but I can hear how disgusting it sounds with him chopping my foot up.

A nickel sized piece of glass is removed. He asks if I want to keep it so I can show my friends. Show my fucking friends? Then he proceeds to tell me I can't drink on amoxicillin, blah blah fucking blah. I've heard the "you can't drink on this" argument for years and I'm doing great. On the way out the nurse tells me I shouldn't drink so much and that I may be young but it's time to grow up.

Thanks for your judgment...but bros never grow up...and I'm getting shitfaced tonight, hobbly foot and all.

Friday, January 15, 2010

Bathroom Attendants

...are the absolute worst thing in the world. If I am going to tip you a buck after my restroom visit you better hold my dick while I piss. Don't stand there with a paper towell and judge me when I walk past your tip jar and add nothing. At a rate of 30 seconds to pee, wash hands, and dry; if that idiot got a buck from every drunken twentysomething he would make $120 an hour. That is just nauseating...sometimes I just want to dart out while he's not looking and avoid washing my hands at all. Oh..?? A cologne sample? Fuck you...I'll spill a beer down my shirt and I'll smell like frat? A breath mint? I prefer camel crush!


End rant

Thursday, January 7, 2010

The coolest guy in the world

Is former President George W. Bush.

Say what you will about his presidency, but this guy is a straight up DUDE. Let's take a look at his professional resume. State rep, governor, president, sports franchise owner, went to schools 1 AND 2 in the country and was in both a frat and a secret society. On top of this he has multiple DUI's was a major cokehead and the extent of his military service was testing out planes for the Air National Guard...which I would equate to the practice of going to nice car dealerships and test drive ferraris.

That said, Bush was HATED a year ago today. Now? He's kind of the man. He kicks it on his gigantic ranch in Texas all day drinking bourbon and dipping. He knows that his two daughters are raging socialite whores..."whatever, I'm worth billions" is what he thinks to himself. Most presidents retire and then die or support some miserable charity or do paid speaking engagements.

Not W. Bush went to throw a ceremonial first pitch at a baseball game...the 63 year old threw a 79 mph strike. Not a sissy 2 bouncer like other presidential hopefuls. Kerry basically lost the election on a pitcher's mound. Even the celebrity BRObama has a weak arm.

What will be George W Bush's legacy to the world? The war on terror? The collapse of the economy? Unpopular wars in the middle east based on fabricated reports of WMD's. Be that as it may. This is what I think...Bush went halfway across the world and killed a lot of bad guys. According to the Opinion Research Bureau (ORB) There have been about 1,000,000 violent deaths caused by the Iraqi war. Of those million about 4,000 were Americans or roughly .4%

Last year there was a college basketball coach fired for beating a team that bad. Albeit that is 4,000 American soldiers too many, you do have to admit it IS quite the ass-kicking. George Bush also got Saddam Hussein hung for the world to see and he was the most unintentionally funny public speaker of all time.

This is why from here on out in my life, I will ask...What would W do?

Tuesday, January 5, 2010

The Greatest Generation

Tom Brokaw wrote a book in the 90's by this very name. It described the generation of people who grew up in the great depression and went on to fight in world war II. These are most likely your grandparents. As your parents are classified as being Baby Boomers, your older cousins are members of generation X...and we are generation Y.

Reading about the trends that go along with every generation are very interesting. For example those who are members of the greatest generation were selfless and gave back to their country without thinking twice. The women bravely defended the home front by going to work and waiting patiently for their men to come home. Ted Williams and JFK were members of this generation, and this is described as the group that made America great...so says Mr. Brokaw.

While it is incredibly badass that people like Ted Williams took a little vacation from baseball to go kill the shit out of some Germans in the mid 40's. I would argue that my generation's frivolous spending, sense of entitlement, and affinity for partying purely encapsulates the American Dream.

Being born an American is like putting all of your money on the 0 on a roulette board and letting your money ride for 10 rounds. Your chances are extremely slim. In fact, betting on being born a poor Indian slum dog is like the red slots, about a 50% shot. The other 50% would have you born as one of the Chinese offstring that is slaughtered to avoid excessive governmental taxation. What I am saying is being born an American automatically makes you a stud. Moreover, there are plenty of Americans who weren't afforded the luxuries of a private school education, a hundred thousand dollar wardrobe and weekly sailing lessons growing up. The top .000000001% is what you are my friend! The average human probably doesn't even have a passport, let alone stamps on it? So why am I going on this lengthy tirade about how lucky you are to be you? Because generation Y has embraced this. They party every day and throw their egos around like a Viking and his club.

And the people in my generation typically have good jobs because of their father's golfing foursomes and no one works particularly hard. Because of the rapidly increasing dynamic world that is technology, someone who has grown up during the boom will always have a leg up on their older brethren. Selfishness has reached an all time high which would have Ayn Rand turning in her grave, in a good way.

Some may say that Generation Y is everything that is wrong with America, I claim that we are the greatest by default. We're going to end up a bit like Clinton, because of the efforts of those that ame before us we will just stumble upon the answers. When some slacker born in the 80's cures AIDS, Cancer, Diabetes and Swine Flu in one fell swoop ten years from now...I hypothesize that we as a whole will be forgiven for our liver destroying antics and worldwide apathy.

So cheers to you twentysomethings of the country...continue your tomfoolery and nonsense past a socially acceptable age and celebrate that you weren't born in a Romanian sewer, and have an ironic laugh that one day you will be remembered as the "Greatest Generation."

Monday, January 4, 2010

2012 reasons to party

According to the latest effort from Roland Emmerich, we are all going to be peaced in less than 2 years anyway. So go drink, smoke and if you get fired from your job just take out a big loan and start spending aggressively. Of course I say this in jest, however...happy New Year everybody. I hope 2010 is your best year yet. This could be the year that you meet the one, but it could also be the year that you contract "the clap." So be realistic in your goal setting up 2010, and if you survived 2009 with a roof over your head and no life-threatening diseases, do a small fist pump and give someone a high five. (Ironically in some circles high five is slang for HIV positive. Hi-V get it?)

As I take a ponder at the year in revue, lots of things changed. I moved cities, I graduated college, and I am now REALLY on my own. I suppose it doesn't count as being on your own when your parents pay your tuition, rent, credit card bills and constantly replenish your checking account. So on the surface of 2010 sans all of those things and adding on a 50 hour a week job, one would think I am going to be pretty miserable...however I am going to look at the ice-scooper transformed into a shovel- shaped shot-glass half full (of $400 a bottle bar-bought Grey Goose) as opposed to half empty.

I used to go out roughly 5 nights a week and jet-set all over the country whenever I saw fit. I literally had no responsibility, because going to class is optional at best. The fact that you actually have to go to work and call someone up if you aren't going is a bit of a drag, but it really makes you appreciate the slightly diminished ammount of fun that you still do have. Let me make the following irrelevant and completely abstract analogy as I attempt to describe the transformation. In college my life was 20 ounces large with about 4 shots poured in. Now it is like an 8 ounce cocktail with 3 ounces poured in. While the former was larger and essentially had more alcohol in it...now there is more of a kick to it. With less time to lounge around, nap, play videogames, nearly all of my free time is consumed with awesomeness.

2010 will not be the year that I grow up, mature, move into my own place or even make an effort at finding a girlfriend. It will be the year that I prove that a 50 hour work week, long commutes and bad pay do not guarantee you a miserable plot in life. 4 years ago I thoroughly believed that the key to happiness was material things and money. 2 years ago I thought it was status, popularity, social clout. Now I'm pretty sure that the key to happiness is a positive attitude. One may say that I have transformed from an empty self-obsessed economic consumerist socialite into a hippie. I finally do understand why hippies are generally so happy. They do not give a FUCK about anything. If you can go around with a smile on your face, hanging out with the people that make you laugh and do exactly what you want to do with the time you have to do it...nothing else really matters. Now its time for some lists about what was great about 09 and what will be better in 2010.

5 little things I am looking forward to this year:
1. I will hook up with at least one of the girls who has blown me off in the past and go into extreme detail about it on this site for all to read.
2. I will finally send something I have written to a publisher, if they tell me it sucks, I will tell them that I am cooler than them.
3. I am going to sit down and watch the Godfather trilogy.
4. Colts superbowl, Blackhawks Stanley Cup
5. Probably 50 more Italian Beefs from Portillo's

My 5 favorite movies of 2009:
1. Up in the Air
2. Inglorious Basterds
3. District 9
4. (500) Days of Summer
5. Avatar

5 I'm looking forward to in 2010:
1. Shutter Island
2. Inception
3. Iron Man 2
4. Toy Story 3
5. Eclipse

5 things I really want to do in Chicago in 2010
1. Trivia night at a bar
2. See the Blue Man group
3. Wrigley Rooftop
4. Amateur night stand-up
5. (tie) Fix my sauna and see every musical that comes through.

Last List...5 ridiculously normal things that I have never done, that I will attempt in 2010
1. Eat a green vegetable
2. Do laundry
3. Take a girl on a non-college date
4. Give a homeless person a buck
5. Stay in an a weekend night

Ok number 5 on that last list isn't going to happen.

Good luck not dying before 2011 everyone!