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 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 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
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'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 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.