Saturday, December 24, 2011

21 Questions

Full disclosure, I was extremely hammered when I wrote this last may be more insufferable than usual, but I hope you enjoy it anyway.

You know what the best part of moving to a new city is? Knowing that you are better than every pathetic fuck that stayed in their hometown after graduation.

I’m kidding. I love my hometown, I love the Midwest even more and I think that sticking around is exactly what a lot of people should do. It makes sense and leads to a pretty high quality of life. No, the best part I think is the fact that at this age you can, so why not? You’re not married, you probably have a shit job so that’s no important reason to stick around, you could probably make comparable money blogging using Google adsense…you have nothing tying you down. Yah, you’ll miss your friends but they’ll appreciate you more the 4 times a year you come home. The best part about leaving is that you won’t sit around when you’re 40 and be like “I really wish I would have moved to New York when I was 24” If you have seen the movie 17 again (love you ZF) you obviously understand that if you don’t chase your dreams you will grow to hate yourself and everyone around you, and you will never be able to write an autobiography because a story with one setting is fucking boring.

But the worst part about moving away is not missing your family and friends, it’s not assimilating to a new culture, it’s not moving in with Craigslist roommates, it’s not trying to establish a new rotation of reliable fuck buddies…it’s playing 21 questions.

Small talk is the fucking worst. Everyone hates it, yet everyone does it. “Oh my god, you’re back in town, good to see you, where are you living, what are you doing, what’s it like?” This is all bullshit. If someone cares what you’re up to they’ll call you, they’ll keep in touch. The awkward bar hug followed by the 30 second mandatory conversation is just an obligatory joke. I understand social norms, so I tolerate this, and I realize that there is a small chance that people are legitimately intrigued…but realize that when you ask me these questions you turn me into a self promoting jackass. So here is my brief guide to my fellow jet setters that have found themselves in this precarious position.

“So how is LA?”
It’s awesome. I wear flip flops a lot.

“What do you do?”
I’m Orlando Bloom’s stunt double.

No, not really…I hate it when people ask me what I do because it requires a long winded explanation and I am asked it 72 times a night.

“Oh, (nervous laughter) so do you like go to the beach a lot?”
Yah man, every day…see the thing is when you live in a stereotypically desirable place you don’t have to work. We go to the beach at 8am every day, lay out and drink 12 packs of beer…and magically once every 2 weeks our bank accounts are replenished.

“So where do you live?”
In the valley with a couple dykes.

I’m serious this time.

“Have you ever taken a bar shit?”
Ya, but I don’t want to talk about it.

“How hot are the chicks out there?”
They’re on average .2 better than the Midwest.

“Do you see celebs and stuff?”
I got a blowjob from Miley Cyrus last night…she didn’t swallow. We smoked weed afterwards, the salvia cover story is a lie.

“When are you coming back?”
So you’re asking me when I’m going to fail and come crawling back home…fuck you.

“Do you miss the Midwest?”
Yes, I have a lot of friends here, I was pretty popular and my dad cooked good steaks, but I also live for the adventure and it makes me feel important that I’m the center of attention when I come home.

“This post is pretty smug, you think you’re pretty fucking special don’t you?”
5 people told me they liked my blog tonight so I’m feeling pretty cocky.

“How good is the pot?”
Not as good as the heroin.

“You do heroin now?”
No, just read the yelp reviews.

“Why did you call this post 21 questions and then only write like 15?”
Because it’s 4 o clock in the morning and the movie Salt is on and I think a scene with Angelina sideboob is approaching. Happy Holidays friends….actually fuck that I’m back in Indiana. Merry Christmas friends, I hope you all get premium Mr. Skin accounts from Santa and I hope to see everyone out Monday night to high five me on how awesome this post was.

Thursday, December 22, 2011

Single Dude in Chicago

By far the hardest decision to make in Chicago during the winter is which restaurant you can walk usually leads to me putting it off indefinitely and watching reruns of Glee on demand. The delivery options in Lincoln Park are severely undeveloped...that or I just don't know all the secrets.

I was supposed to be in the backseat of a car drinking 312's on my way to Indianapolis right now, but because I never plan ahead the Megabus was sold out and my brother doubts his ability to drive to Chicago and back in one day. Alas, I have one more night in Chicago...and it is fucking great. As miserable as it is to not see the sun during the month of December, all of that is completely redeemed by the Christmas cheer all around me. The bars are so decorated, all the students are out for the holidays and getting extra drunk at my favorite watering holes. It is of no consequence to me that I was upping the average age at Kincades by 4 years last night. I partied in a bank vault watched a fat woman beat my old roommate in pop a shot basketball and stayed at a bar past 2 they haven't figured out the late night bar thing in LA is fucking beyond me.

Sidenote: So California is broke? Invent a late night liquor license sell it for 10 million dollars...bars will open in LA that stay open (legally) until 5 in the morning and will charge $20 a drink and people will fucking go and that will be the most profitable bar in the country.

I have one night left in Chicago and I probably won't be here until next August or something like that. There is too much to do, do I make it a rush and division night? Are the lights at the zoo really that great? Where do I go to dinner...byob? It's true that most people have left to go to their respective hometowns, but I really don't think I'm missing much at schooner night tonight in ripple.

With just 2 days left until Christmas, I haven't bought a fucking thing yet, but in classic narcissistic fashion I'll probably go to the mall tomorrow and end up just buying a ton of shit for myself. Then Christmas eve when I'm hammered on egg nog I'll buy a bunch of tickets on stub hub for a Blackhawks game and make my family take me up there in between Christmas and New Year's. (Note, ticketmaster never closes...don't fret at 2am if you dropped the ball on shopping...just click print and you're golden) This way I get to enjoy the gift, spend time with the family and I'll make a dinner reservation at Gibson's which they will pay for! Cha-ching. (Seriously, you should never give a gift that is anything other than can get a girl a necklace, but you will not have fun with that necklace in case she gives you a blowjob as a thank you...but then again if you go to a cool concert you might still get the blowjob)

I don't have a ton on my mind today and I should spend less time mindlessly blogging about how great it is to be back in the Windy City and actually go enjoy it. But I will leave you with this...Merry Christmas from the entire staff and family at Single Dude Enterprises. I'll be back in Indy tomorrow...maybe and then Tahoe for the New Year if a certain concert promoter I know gets his fucking shit together. Treat the holidays as an excuse to do things to excess and I hope you get a lot of great Christmas presents...personally I'm still hoping to get that fucking ferbie that never came 14 years ago, and never let anyone tell you that you have to eat a Christmas ham. I already emailed my dad that I'm expecting a Christmas filet.

Monday, December 19, 2011

Wingin' it

Let's talk chicken wings!. Of course teryaki flavored wings from B dubbs are the best in the world. (They are putting a bdubbs at Hollywood and Highland, I can hardly contain myself) And Hooters has the world's worst wings...and I would like to recant a position I held years ago that boneless wings are for pussies. Boneless wings are easier to dip/eat and you're not always in the mood or position to pig out and build a small skyscraper out of used napkins.

Those are the "best of" my general thoughts on wings. The reason I really titled this wingin' it is because I have realized that one of my best and worst qualities as a person is my total abandonment of a game plan. For the past 2 weeks my family, friends and coworkers have been asking me when I plan on going home for the holidays. I of course have no idea, no ticket bought as of this exact moment. I've heard flights are getting scarce and the rates probably aren't dropping...but I'll figure it out, right? I mean this is the 21st century I could book a train to topeka Kansas, Greyhound it to St. Louis, take a short one way flight into Ohare and then hitchhike back to Indianapolis all through iPhone aps...except maybe the hitchhiking, scratch that just checked there are guides to Hitchhiking, a social media ap for hitchhikers and the ebook Hitchhiker's guide to the galaxy.

Needless to say, I'm not too worried. I think that is what people often find refreshing about me. I really don't worry about practical concerns the way others do. I never worry about how to get home for example. There is usually a cab, bus, couch or hostel within ear shot. Things generally work themselves out, and while this probably frustrates the shit out of anal type A personalities, I just find things a lot more exciting when you just kind of go with the flow. Many people have a fear of the great unknown, I tend to have more of a fear of routine...what could possibly be more terrifying that getting caught in the same rut for the end of time? Routine is for when you have kids and a wife and your life is pretty much over.

Do spur of the moment decisions make you uncomfortable and nervous? Well that's because you are a little bitch. Sure you may be a responsible, long-term goal seeking little bitch, but let's be honest winners think and live in the now. Fuck the past, it can't be changed...and the future, will still be there tomorrow. Go see Tom Cruise in Ghost you think he is considering anything other than the now when he jumps off 211 story buildings and crashes through windows to fuck up the bad guys? Absolutely not.
(Sidenote: That movie totally redeemed Cruise, he can pray to any alien god he wants to...he's a fucking boss)

People may tire of my "seize the day" hedonistic "live in the now" message. I admit, I get tired of talking about how awesome it is to get drunk and do stupid shit (even though it is) and I usually use that as allegory to express how I feel about growing up and this whole "maturity" myth. I think a lot of people think they are better than you when they make a grocery list or stay in on a Friday night or adhere to a monthly budget.

Whatever, if that's your thing and it works for you, I'm not going to tell you that you are an uninteresting person. But if you are one of those people that shove your "signs of maturity" down someone's throat, you can go fuck yourself you sweltering cunt. Subway 8 times a week and living well above my means and cruising paycheck to paycheck works for me. It's possible that some may perceive my quality of life as excessive, I qualify it as exciting. I don't know where I will be a week, month or year from now, I have a cool exciting job and I live in the only place in the world where I can ski and surf in the same day.

..and I just booked a flight home...well not home per se. I booked a flight to Chicago (non-stop under $200, I told you booking far in advance is for the fucking birds) from there I'll probably do some light holiday shopping, check out the lights at Butch's, maybe go see my beloved Hawks and either ride home with another naptown transplant or God forbid take the Megabus.'ll work itself out.

Thursday, December 15, 2011

Valet Mignon

If you have ever read this site before you know there are 2 things I hate more than anything in the world. Cab drivers and bathroom attendants. Bathroom attendants probably more so because they literally charge you a tax to use the bathroom. The last thing I want to do after depositing 5 pints down the urinal is either get the look of disgust from the smooth talking black man when I don't wash my hands or the utter look of despair if I actually allow him to pump soap into my hands and have the nerve to not tip him. Worse even are the aggressive attendants that let you know that they are not paid by the bar, they only keep their tips. (I'm looking at you Mickey's on're a shithole, why even put up the facade of class)

My war with the taxi drivers is slightly different. I realize they provide a service, they stop people from driving drunk...yaya whatever, that's all fine and well but where do you get off charging someone $20 to go 3 miles. At that rate these guys are literally banking an attorney's hourly rate and they have the audacity to ask for a tip on top of it and get shitty with me when I try to pay with card because it's going to be taxed...all the while speaking jibberish to some homeboy in Saudi Arabia, laughing about all the cell phones that he is going to sell on ebay after his shift ends.

I have decided to induct a 3rd member into my 7th ring of hell thus completing the 3 headed monster of Brutus, Cassius and Judas Iscariot, with valet parkers.

Living in LA and Chicago for that matter parking is a bitch. But as an American and a believer in a free market economy and a scarcity of resources, I can get on board with paying for parking. Obviously if the sunset strip was loaded with tons of massive free parking lots instead of cool clubs and bars it wouldn't be as cool as it is, you pay a premium for the experience.
And while I would rather walk a mile to park for free or for a dollar at a meter...

/side note...when I was young my dad would always park literally miles away from the Pacer games when we would go. I remember cursing him in the 4 degree below weather as we walked from Market Square Arena to like 10th and Meridian, "You're so cheap, pay the $3 to park...I'll never be like you." Well, I get it now, it's a matter of principle.

Whatever, I'll pay for parking if I have to. I would prefer to park in a garage so I don't have to stop at a non-chase ATM and get fined $5 but even if I do...I'll get over it.

What I cannot get over is when I see a lovely little meter outside of the restaurant but some jackass has put up a valet sign, thus stealing a perfectly good parking spot, and now this motherfucker wants $20...are you kidding me? To drive my car across the street into that lot? How about I give you $10 and park it there myself..."Nope, valet only."

And this is an epidemic all over Los Angeles. Even restaurants with parking lots, or some parking garages, you'll pull up and they'll say, "hop right out sir, I've got it from here."
No, no thanks I'll park myself. "Well we are valet only sir!"

Like seriously what the fuck? Do these companies get some sort of tax credit by employing an army of 10 valet boys? I see a parking spot RIGHT FUCKING THERE. But I have to get out of my car, get a ticket, watch this jackass move my car 15 feet and then come out and give him a suggested $3 gratuity when he pulls my car around? I suggest you get a less laughable profession.

I never harbored all this ill will towards the valet profession. Hey, a nice night out with a girl, you want to impress her. Door to door service, that way she doesn't have to walk a 1 block trail of tears in those uncomfortable heels. Sure I get it. Maybe at a 5 star restaurant...but to check out the shoe section at Nordstrom on my lunch hour I have to fucking valet? No thanks boss.

Paying for parking is right up there with getting's an unforeseen expense that you really just kind of hate. It makes everyone in the car happy when you valet, because the driver obviously pays and then your friends don't have to walk. But I am literally taking a stand against these cum dumpsters from all walks of life FORCE a "service" upon me and then demand my generosity to reward them of such. It's a fucking scam, to generate more money...pinch the yuppies for everything they've got...because it's not enough anymore that we instinctively tip 25-30% on all restaurant and liquor bills, we better break off this parking attendant a little something extra.

But really, you're fucked either way, because the only alternative is to take a cab to the restaurant, thus employing another of the evil triumvirate...and you fucking know that this posh place is going to have a bathroom attendant...and if you drive and valet, there is a good chance that you will be overserved and forced to cab it home anyway and then claim your car in the morning...and if this ever happens I will spontaneously combust, but do not be surprised if I take down everyone else in the service industry with me in a murderous rage.

/End Rant

*Takes a deep breath*
I feel so much better.

Wednesday, December 14, 2011


Ok before I get into the meat of this post I want to draw an interesting parallel if you will. When you think of rageaholic, you probably think of someone who is always pushing the limit when it comes to partying. They aren't satisfied to just get shitfaced. You can very calmly work yourself into an alcoholic coma...I'm talking loud music, dancing, jumping, screaming...This is how generation Y defines raging. Going to a concert, not sitting in the pavilion seats, rather opting for the lawn where people are drinking out of flasks and openly passing joints...then going to a bar, a late night bar, an after hours house party, and then finally calling it a night at sunrise. Rage.

Now let's take a look at Wikipedia and how they define a rageaholic:
A rageaholic or "anger addict" is a person who gets excited by expressing rage, or a person prone to extreme anger with little or no provocation.

An anger addict...really? Go on...

While "rageaholic" is not a formal medical diagnosis, it has been developed as a lay psychology term by counselors and anger-management groups seeking to help people who are chronically angry and who compulsively express fits of rage. There are also 12-step programs for dealing with rageaholics, such as Rageaholics Anonymous in Los Angeles, CA.

Ohhh a 12 step don't say? There also appears to be some triggers, things you can do to curb or avoid raging...let's take a look at a few.

Rageahol: When people start drinking rageahol, they are throwing figurative gasoline on the fire of their anger.
I will hitherto refer to alcohol as only rageahol for the infinite future.

Cursing: This is not a moral point. When people stop using profanity, they stop fanning the fire of their anger.
People that aren't cursing clearly haven't indulged in enough rageahol.

Hero stories: When people recount angry events with themselves as the hero, they get to re-feel those powerful angry feelings, fueling the addiction and seeming to justify those actions. It is important to take responsibility for the anger, not glorify it.
When I recall stories of maneuvering myself out of precarious situations based on my binge drinking I always identify as the protagonist, apparently this is a problem.

Other triggers are pointing, yelling, angry driving, throwing things...I always though those were signs of a good time, but apparently not if you are a rageaholic.

I guess what I'm trying to if you are trying to figure out how to have a rocking good time on a Saturday night, read the wikipedia article for rageaholism and do the opposite, also replace anger with alcohol (or rageahol).

It also seems that pretty much any affliction to which you suffer could follow that same list of triggers. Like these 3 for example...
Score the anger: This is all about judging yourself 1-10 on how angry (fucked up) you are
Stop speaking: Because clearly you can't drink and talk simultaneously.
Walk away: I use this often at parties, in a boring conversation...get yourself a drink.

I'm sure I could bastardize that entire list of triggers, but this was supposed to be a simple comparison, not an indictment on my generation. Then again, I think we are less angry...I mean you always hear about these old guys beating their wives and kids...I think the worst that happens among guys now is calling their girlfriend a stupid whore when they get caught cheating. (This is deserved) But I think the threat of domestic violence has significantly been curbed by social media. A guy can't casually assault his family anymore because they could always tweet: Husband drunk and threatening to beat me #help

Technology, preventing redneck crime one day at a time.

BUT ANYWAY...enough of the ranting about how no one is angry anymore because they are drunkenly having fun (and you would think we would be an angry generation, with no jobs a shit economy, and a world where Angus T Jones makes $300,000 an episode for 2.5 Men)

Let's talk about a real Rageaholic...BANE.
Last night I was stringing up some gallows in my bedroom because I had failed to acquire tickets to Watch the Throne for a third consecutive night. All I wanted was to hear an entire hour of "Ni99as in Paris" but no...the fact that I had $12.17 in my bank account and that I have no friends with thug appeal in LA, I simply read some Steig Larsson and watched reruns of Gossip Girl (quite the Juxtaposition when I am complaining about no one to go to a rap show with me.)

The saving grace was when someone sent me the Prologue for the Dark Knight Rises which will be playing before MI IV Imax showings this Friday. What a boss...seriously, the scene is like a mixture between the end of Air Force One, the hallway scene in Inception, with a little bit of Goldfinger. It's one of those situations where if I was diagnosed with 6 months to live right now, I would tell the Dr. "motherfucker it better be 7" because I must see this movie. It is going to be everything that is good about movies...and I can totally get past Tom Hardy's bisexuality in a way that I can never get on board with Kevin Spacey again because if you are that much of a badass and you want to put your cock up butts...more power to you.

I would post the link for you, but it's already been pulled...I am part of an elite network of nerds that allows me illegal access to things like this...and although I'm sure no one wants to see Tom Cruise's latest homage to Scientology, the movie does have a 100 on RT still and at 7 minutes, the DKR prologue might be worth your $20.

Until then my friends...confront your rageaholic triggers...and enjoy yourself a pint or two of rageahol this evening and try not to take it out on your two turtle doves. (Get it, it's the 2nd day of Christmas...OMG like where did that come from)

Monday, December 12, 2011

New Year's Eve

Pictured: The only Jewish girl that could make me convert.

Everyone who knows me well can attest to the fact that I am a huge romantic comedy fan. So it won't surprise you that when my boy Zac Efron of High School Musical fame and the vastly underrated 17 Again (not the version they show on BET with the chicks from Sister, Sister) I would be pumped for its arrival. I am probably in the minority that really liked Valentine's Day, I'm easy, get a bunch of attractive people to fall in love and I am 100% on board. Reality be damned, I watch movies to escape! Unfortunately, I haven't established a strong network of platonic chick friends to drag on these seemingly "gay friend dates." So this will not be a review of the most anticipated rom-com of the year (yes I know it sits at 8% on the tomatometer, but these guys are all economy conscious and shit..."save your money" did you really have better plans for that $13? Were you going to save it, invest it in your 401k? Oh, you were actually going to buy the holiday special edition bottle of Svedka for $12.99 on special at CVS...I stand corrected) instead, I decided to put together a list of the top 10 things you should plan on doing for New Year's.

Now if you are sitting around thinking, "New Year's is amateur night, blah blah blah what separates it from any other Saturday night." Go fuck yourself. New Year's is great. Because even if you were going to go out anyway, now everyone else is and people have no problem getting dressed to the nines and blacking out and making terrible life choices. And most of these decisions will be forgiven because New Year's is an excuse. It force your job to give you a day or two off and the collective society to say "fuck it" and spend a ton of money on frivolity.

In the past I have had epic New Year's where I have ski'd away from a bomb threat, raged at a David Lee Roth concert at City Walk Orlando and even texted a friend "hey, would you be mad if I hooked up with your ex-girlfriend?" It's really all about the story. So without further ado, the top 10 ways to spend your last few hours of 2011.

10. College Bowl Game
For the past 12 or so years my dad took us to Florida anytime Iowa would earn a New Years day bowl birth. In that time period I went to games in Miami, Orlando, Tampa and Fort Meyers. I didn't go to the Insight bowl when IU went in 2007 but I wish I would have. College Bowls, especially when they are in exotic locations are the fucking tits. The game notwithstanding, these trips turn into miniature spring breaks. Keep in mind, the college kids get 3 weeks off so you better believe they will be in Miami days in advance raging for the Orange Bowl. I was always at an awkward age and with my parents on these trips so my participation in the party was always limited, but I could see the people 4 and 5 years my senior, and they were having the times of their life. Also, you can't beat the college style road trip.

9. Hotel Party
Hotels have always fascinated me. Even when staying at a hotel in your home town, being in one adds a legitimacy to your vacation. I have always associated hotels with positive experiences, be it playing knee hockey in the halls with my travel baseball team or getting fucked up with a strange group of 8 people circa the age of 17. Now hotel parties are vastly different. You get a room a couple rooms at the Hilton, pregame hard with a close knit group of friends, go downstairs to a banquet hall wearing expensive suits and listen to Pitbull or some shit for a couple hours. If you meet anyone downstairs, you can slip them your room key, or go up during the middle of the party for a variety of reasons, and unlike bars, your hotel room has no specific closing's funny that the one constant over the past 20 years is the fear of noise complaints.

8. All you can drink at a bar
I know everyone talks shit about this. Some marginal acquaintance of yours sends out some 1000 person email blast inviting you to the "PARTY OF THE CENTURY." And even though it always fails to live up to the hype, whatever, that's where everyone is going to go...and you may not think you will get your money's worth on $150 VIP wristband, but I'm pretty sure I've mastered this. Engage one member of the opposite sex extremely early in the night and just commit to not leaving the bar for 2 hours. There'll be plenty of time to dance and do the rounds later, plus no one decides who they are going to kiss until like 11:30 so those hours from 8-10 are for you and your BAC...make sure to bring like $30 in singles to tip a buck a drink (if you have leftover singles and you fail to convert on a chick I think you could still salvage the evening at a sleazy gentlemen's club) and you may want to look into some sort of party bus, it's impossible to get a cab on NYE.

7. Ski Trip
If you can work a vacation into your New Year's plans ALWAYS DO IT. Do you know how much cooler going to some random bar in Aspen on New Years is after hitting the slopes for a week compared to getting off work at 3 and just heading downtown? Skiing (or boarding) is awesome. Ski towns are amazing. Girls that ski are awesome. By the transitive property or something like that, this is a winning proposal. And if you think "why would I go to some quiet ski town for New Year's? Won't it be all families?" You couldn't be more wrong, after the last lift stops, ski towns rage harder than most college campuses. Probably the best New Year's I ever had took place on a ski trip with 4 buds (and also involved 5 banks, disgruntled locals multiple bombs and an eventual murder/suicide, this is the movie New Years Eve would have been with Michael Bay directing) I'm trying to do it again this year...this should probably have a better ranking on the list.

6. Family Trip
I know, it sounds relatively weak, but let's look at a few contributing factors. Your parents are most likely wealthier than you. Not only are they paying for the trip, they are probably going to take you somewhere badass. Europe? Central/South America? Go. It will be awesome. You're probably sick of the shit weather and that is something you and your parents have in common, they are probably going to take you somewhere hot with sand and water. I just went to Italy with my parents, it kicked ass. Hopefully you have a similarly aged sibling to be your partner in crime, if not, I know from experience many an alliance are formed in the hot tub. You're a single 24 year old in the Bahamas looking to bang chicks? There is probably a like minded dude plotting the same thing in the hot tub (or maybe a hot chick that wants to get away from her parents for a few hours) Regardless, you are not the only one on vacation with their parents, you just need to round up a crowd and get into some misadventure, try to get your own room...the non-adjoining type.

5. House Party
Thus far my suggestions haven't necessarily been cheap. And although my ranting on this site often makes me sound like some strange fiscal conservative/social anarchist (I think they are calling that a Libertarian these days) I assure you monetarily speaking I currently identify much more with the 99%, so I understand that you may not have a few g's to blow for some "overrated invented holiday." Alas, if you have $15 and some clean clothes, you can still have a blast. I was for a long time staunchly against the house party. It just takes everything special away from the evening. You can put on nice clothes and drink champagne any other night of the year, but with a little effort and an open mind it can be so much more than that. No competing with 100 other meat sticks for drinks and/or the girl you want to bang. No last call. In fact, in my experience the people at a house party almost always get the rowdiest...there's no rules, there's no loud music you have to scream over...just lots and lots of shots, and fierce competition for the best beds come 4 am.

4. Concert
Not into the whole getting dressed up and doing the all you can drink thing? Are you more of a EDM and MDMA kinda person? Whatever floats your boat. I see this as a perfect last minute kinda thing. I always hold out and end up scrambling for tickets at double the value on Craigslist at like 4pm on the 31st. When I could just go start pregaming in Wicker Park at 6pm and go see a Pretty Lights show at the Congress that goes until could probably get a cab by that point.

3. International Travel
There is an eventual limit to what will happen domestically on New Year's. Inevitably, no matter how crazy your night, you will eventually pass out or die. But if you really wanted to take it to the next level, you would have to leave our friendly borders. Because as crazy as your buddy's story about getting domed up by a tranny in Miami might sound, I can't even begin to fathom the debauchery that goes down in Ibiza or Rio.

2. New York
Almost obligatory to be put on the list. New York is New Year's Eve. And even though NYC doesn't experience the new year first, or it may experience it hours before your time zone does...when the ball drops the new year has happened. (Living in Chicago I always found it so anti-climatic when the ball dropped in New Years and they showed the crazy Times Square footage and having to remind myself, oh wait we still have one more hour, I can't even imagine what it will feel like when the ball drops this year and I'm still getting dressed in Cali) But aside from the madness on the streets (I have heard it compared to New Orleans Mardi Gras...which was a runner-up on the list) every fucking club, warehouse and secret pop-up shop are doing something of monstrous proportions. You see those reaves on tv and wonder...where does that shit actually happen? NYE in New York.

1. Vegas
Shouldn't the day of the year where we are most excessive be spent in the world's capitol of excess? Look, Vegas is always going to be insane. And I understand the argument that your Vegas experience would be nearly the same on any of the other 364 days of the year. But I refuse to believe, that one could go to Vegas on New Year's and not have some sort of weirdness that would cause a life altering experience. You would probably blow your entire net worth on hookers, drugs, gambling and booze. But hey, it's all about the story right? And whether your story is making the next Kardashian sex tape in the bathroom at XS or accidentally murdering an annoying pimp during a bad shroom trip, the next day is a new year and all sins are forgiven. That's what the lyrics of Auld Lang Syne say right? Well the 1st is a Sunday, so maybe you go to mass just to be sure about that whole soul cleansing thing.

There you have it! Something for everyone. So as you prepare for the holiday vacation season, don't forget to keep your tolerance up, you don't want to be the person that passes out before midnight...I've heard that it's a bad omen that you won't make it to the end of 2012 either.

Wednesday, December 7, 2011

The Sauce Nazi

Quick story time. Over the weekend some stranger somehow ended up with one of my phones (I still have two hence the 317/310 thing) After furiously trying to track it down on Sunday to no avail I finally got a call last night. If you want to see your phone again meet me at McDonald's on Avenue K in Lancaster, CA. Long story short, Lancaster is a town in the middle of the desert, driving out to this remote McD's in the middle of the night reminded me of the movie Casino. I honestly thought that a Joe Pesci type was going to walk in to the McDonalds and shank me and that the medical examiner would find me dead with a half-eaten double cheeseburger in hand. What a way to go. Needless to say, after waiting for this guy 3 hours to "take the bus" to my location he arrived with my phone. He had suspiciously wiped its memory, so I hope my phone won't later be implicated in some sort of gang related activity. Moral of the story, hold onto your damn phone. I honestly need a case that will surgically attach it to my body, it's getting to be a tad ridiculous.

The most disturbing part of the evening though may have been that the person behind the McDonald's counter would only give me one packet of buffalo sauce. Clearly that isn't enough for my fries and Dbl Cheese. But out of principal I refuse to pay 30 cents for an extra.

I have been encountering this scenario all over the place lately. The worst is the taco bell drive thru. Clearly, a minimum of 3 fire sauces is required per taco. Possibly 4 on a burrito/quesadilla and no less than 2 on a chicken flatbread. So if my order is 2 soft tacos, a chicken flatbread and a steak quesadilla...I need 12 packets of fire sauce minimum. I realize my demands may be a tad high so I say "I need a shit ton of fire sauce" not a bunch, not a lot...A SHIT TON. Needless to say when I am underwhelmed with 5 packets I am furious. Because then I have to park the car go in, and take 20 more just to prove my point.

Look, I get it. Fast food chains are trying to cut back, but honestly is sauce consumption really knocking you down, maybe McDonald's can cut back on labor costs. It always seems like there are 8 retards in there just standing around. Or maybe cut back on your obnoxious marketing budget, the I'm loving it campaign is just poor. And people really aren't that excited when the McRib comes back it's fucking miserable. What does bother me is when I say I would like 2 buffalo sauces and a ranch at the window (after I've paid...this is an obviously blatant strategy, are they really going to ask to run my card again?) But they fucking do! No I don't have 37 cents! Who carries cash? You know who carries cash? Homeless people and drug dealers. And you just wait, they will both be accepting square payment soon enough. WHAT HAPPENED TO THE CUSTOMER IS ALWAYS RIGHT?

But the fast food restaurant that has taken it too far is the new Hollywood Chik Fil A. They literally employ someone to distribute sauce to you after you have placed and picked up your order. You walk to this person and make your initial sauce request and then they ask you what you ordered, and make a counter-offer of sauces they will provide you. At this point you have to make your most aggressive sales pitch for sauce, mine usually goes like this:

"I got 12 nuggets and a large fry, I realize that 4 buffalo, 2 ranch and a chick fil a sauce may sound excessive. But I assure you, no sauce packet will see more than a 2 nugget life span, the rest will be used for my fries. I will not waste any of it, I will consume them all and enjoy. What I need you to do, is give me as many sauces as you can give me without losing your job."

Usually after that intense soliloquy she caves into my demands...but really it shouldn't be that hard...and don't even get me started on those meager fucking ketchup of them is not even enough for an entire french fry. What happened to the land of excess? I would expect this bullshit from Europe, but really? I thought this was America.

Friday, December 2, 2011

The People's Champ

Today was one of those days that I was sitting around eating a triple mandarin chicken plate from the Panda Express in a USC cafeteria and my mind wandered back to the days of yore in Gresham.

Quick side note: How miserable must it have been to not be northwest quad as a Freshman at IU. Unless you got lucky and knew someone in a good house you were doomed to obscurity. I mean seriously didn't you do your research? Didn't your mother call ahead and say "my white daughter from the suburbs wants a chance at social relevance, where should she live?" And don't give me that bullshit about "random" housing assortments. Anyone with a core 40 high school degree could have manipulated the Freshman Interest Group/Living Learning Community thing. Here is our shared interest, we want to rage with the attractive people who will end up in the Greek system, not the fine arts students that will inevitably move to the dreaded east side...god, did you ever go to a house party at like 7th and Union? That is where dreams go to die. All this said, the other quads did have far superior food. But Taco John's was my jam, so I got over it. /End rant.

Anyway, while thinking back to 2006, I caught myself thinking, "What the fuck happened to the lyrical prodigy Paul Wall? Or Mike Jones for that matter?" I mean who can forget the classic lyric "Call Me George Foreman, cuz I'm selling errybody grillz." Truly one for the ages.
As you would probably imagine, neither of them have done shit in the past 5 years. Except Paul Wall became morbidly obese briefly before undergoing gastric bypass surgery. I'm fairly ready to say that he is no longer the people's champ.

With Paul Wall fat and irrelevant, Dwayne Johnson busy starring in Disney movies, the title is seemingly up for grabs. What makes one a people's champ? I always assimilated it with someone that can relate to an "average Joe" aka a middle-lower class factory worker. A bunch of politicians always try to claim to be a man of the people, but they are not. They are trust fund babies that served in the military in non-combat zones and then went to the law school of their choice. I am not a man of the people, I have a very niche audience, and even that crowd doesn't agree with half the shit I say. My popularity probably has a very high absolute value though. (In case you are retarded, absolute value is distance from 0 thus I am calling myself polarizing)

But last night, the answer came to me, well it came to my friend who told me. I was at the Music Box in Hollywood and I saw a drunken USC student wearing probably a $1000 outfit just several feet from a migrant worker who hadn't even removed his steel toed boots after a long day of working illegal construction after being picked up across the street from a Home Depot (I realize this is a hasty generalization and it's completely plausible that he was a legal resident that had been doing yard work all day and hadn't had time to change) But next I saw something beautiful. The Mexican dude that was doing this very violent dance that involved a lot of intense stomping and spinning (literally I could feel whenever he came within 30 feet of me because of the vibrations) started dancing with this white girl of privilege. Then some senoritas hopped in and the frat guys in their cut off tanks joined in and there was: a socio-economic melting pot of dance. There were idiots at this rave wearing dead animals felts for hats (this is the next big thing, treacherous, but I assure you it's coming) guidos popping bottles, 14 year olds trying to bribe adults for beers, blacks whites, yellows...all there for one reason, get fucked up and have a good time.

We aren't so different at the end of the day. Some people may care more about possessions or status or what have you, but we all really have one goal...have fun and maybe take a member of the opposite (or same) sex home. Many people used to say music was that great force that brought everyone together, but some music has undertones and is political, not every genre works for everyone. I would love to argue that alcohol is the great unifying force, blue collar, white collar, no collar people just letting loose after a shitty week. But some people don't drink and whatever, it's your life, be boring if you so chose. But the one thing that has brought people together since the beginning of time, whether it be for cultural celebrations or just as an expression of joy is dance. Try watching the "Beautiful People" video without wanting to go party with 100,000 strangers. You may look like an idiot in doing so, but so does everyone else. So let's raise a glass to dancing, maybe not the new people's champ, but the one force that no one is above. Go cut a rug tonight.

Thursday, December 1, 2011

Last Chance Saloon

Isn't it bizarre that roughly 1 out of every 12 days of your life is in December? December is and always will be one of the greatest month. Perhaps that is because I always associated December with kick ass Holidays like Christmas and New Year's, ski trips, a lack of school..and ya it's cold (most places) but it's the exciting new cold. Not that bullshit cold from February that makes you homicidal. All the malls are pretty, Christmas music is everywhere, College bball is heating up and the playoff races are beginning to develop in the NFL. Also Jingle all the Way is played at least twice a week on USA for the entire month.
There should be a name for the period of time between Thanksgiving and January 3rd. Most people are pretty much checked out this entire period. Ya if you are a student you are cramming in a formal or two in between all nighters that usually just end up with you saying "fuck it" at midnight and going to the bar. Or going to some girls room to study and the sexual tension eventually boils over at 3am when she pops a bottle of wine for a study break and you end up sleeping in and are 30 minutes late for your final...ya we've all been there.
In the real world, most of the higher ups are taking vacations, so in between the 6 hours of light you receive during the week, there isn't a whole lot going on. Maybe some shopping, or some Love Actually marathons, not a lot of people going out on a Wednesday night to check out the Christmas lights at Butch McGuires...
But with this laziness comes something magical...the Holiday themed drinking events! See my friends, I'm not the first person to advocate drinking through the treacherous weather. I'm not the first person to suggest that adding some spice to the month of December is not just an extra pump in your eggnog lattee at Starbucks. However, in case some of you have forgotten your inner frat guy (Think of the movie The Santa Claus when the dude from Beverly Hills cop finally got his Oscar Meyer wiener whistle, and he remembers his inner's like that but with booze) here is a list of Holiday themed drinking fun.

1. Secret Santa
What you remember: Exchanging random gifts with schoolmates, youth group friends, coworkers.
How to make it fun: Remember when you would bring a really kick-ass gift to the party (like the hot new Nerf gun that year) and then you ended up with something shitty like Lincoln logs. Ya, I remember that too. Now what if every gift had to be a fifth of alcohol? Sure, someone will end up with Jager and someone will end up with 75 South, my experience is that both will get you quite intoxicated and most of these events will lead to sharing, because it's not like everyone takes their toys and goes home. They rip open the wrapping paper and then start ripping shots almost just as quickly...and if you want to bring this year's hot new Nerf gun to add chaos to the situation I award bonus points.

2. Caroling
What you remember: Probably going around in a church group knocking on the doors of strangers and occasionally being invited inside for some hot cider.
How to make it fun: Why not go caroling immediately after your Secret Santa, what's better than getting hammered with your friends and singing to strangers and then demanding to be brought inside and awarded some sort of compensation. Although, I would say that there probably won't be enough eggnog to go around if you are in a large enough group.

3. Holiday dress up
What you remember: Perhaps going to class or work in a cute Christmas sweater your grandmother knitted you.
How to make it fun: Aside from the obvious awkward Christmas sweater party which you will undoubtedly be invited to (x5) the best way to celebrate the holidays by dressing like a deranged elf is a Christmas themed bar crawl. You are all probably familiar with TBOX in Chicago. SOme of my fondest memories of the windy city have come when it was 12 degrees out and I was staggering around Wrigleyville in a onesie dowsing strangers with breakfast serial. Honestly TBOX deserves its own post but I don't live in Chicago anymore. That said, I can almost guarantee you, that every moderate sized city has at least one bar promoter who has thrown something together. Dressing up like an idiot is fun, drinking is fun, adding these together is the best mashup since the ice cream sandwich.

4. Quality time at home
What you remember: Sitting by a fireplace watching Rudolph the Rednose Reindeer and getting bitched at your parents to shovel the driveway.
How to make it fun: I always use the, "I don't live here anymore, shovel your own driveway" excuse to mixed results. But what you may not have stumbled upon yet, is that all the great childhood activities: snowball fights, sledding, building snowmen...still fun. Even better hammered. And don't start to think that you are an alcoholic because you use light substance abuse to enhance every day activities. You are on vacation, and vacation is about enjoying yourself

5. Everything else
The holidays fucking rock. Putting up the tree, making a fire, figuring out your own eggnog recipes, playing hockey on the pond. It' tough to be in a bad mood in December, even if all you can see for miles is gray. Most of the bars are decorated in cheerful fashion and Mariah Carey's timeless classic "All I want for Christmas is You" plays on repeat. It really is the most wonderful time of the year. Even in Los Angeles where it is 70 degrees out today, I feel the holiday spirit in the air. We have this joyous season to take us to early January, when shit really hits the fan and there truly isn't anything to look forward to outside of an occasional ski trip until March. I suggest many vacations during that time frame, but fuck the in the present.

Many people stress about the coming of a new year. Oh my god, I need to lose weight, stop smoking, get in shape, get a promotion and be married next year. Well that shit can be taken care of in 2012, I assure you, if you haven't accomplished that yet in 2011, it's not happening. So dive right in, and enjoy yourself these last 31 days. Don't let the holidays cause you anxiety, instead put on your most hideous ensemble of knits and corduroy on and enjoy yourself because tis the season to be merry.

Tuesday, November 29, 2011


People that have been reading since the Chicago days will remember I wrote a segment about party trolleys, which are essentially party buses with some character. Over the Thanksgiving weekend I took two separate party buses to and from Bloomington for the IU Purdue game, and even though one of these buses broke down on the way back to Indianapolis Saturday night (stranding me briefly in a ditch off of 37) I still considered the experience a success. So in honor of my favorite method of transportation I thought I would put together a top 10 list of why party buses are awesome and should be implemented into your event whenever possible.

10. DUI's are real. If you are anything like me, if you are going to any sort of exciting event you are going to drink heavily. And outside a mormon friend or a willing to please girlfriend, everyone in your party wants to do the same. And while it would be possible to elect someone to be the designated driver, that fucking blows for that guy, and what if they suddenly have a change of heart halfway through? Ohhhh but we'll pay for the gas, and we'll buy you pot for driving us...not enough. You may as well tell this guy, fuck you, you're a marginal friend and we're using you for transportation, you should just be happy we're letting you hang out. Party bus solves this problem, and everyone gets to have a good time.

9. Fuck cabs. SERIOUSLY FUCK CABS. WHo do these motherfuckers think they are? You can't squeeze four in the back? Your credit card reader is broken? You have the audacity to ask for a tip after you charge me $10 to drive me a mile? Cabs are cramped, awkward and you know these anti-american fucks are selling your iPhones on ebay after you drunkenly leave them in the back. Go bark in Swahili to your boys in Egypt on your own time, because I'll be on this comfortable coach bus taking pulls of whiskey while you take advantage of another group of drunk white kids.

8. Mobile pregame. Have you ever been on a fun road trip en route to some cool event and thought, "wow you know what would be great? If we could start boozing legally and not worry about having to pull over every 10 minutes for bathroom stops." BOOOOOM! Problem fucking solved. Even if your bus doesn't have a toilet, we've all been in the back of a school bus and peed into a water bottle and tossed it out the window...right?

7. Cost Effective. We haven't gotten to the modern luxuries of the 21st century party bus, but let me drop some math on you homey. Have you ever cabbed it to the airport in a major city? Chicago, New York, Los Angeles. It is $40 minimum. I can't imagine how much it would be to take that same cab to a concert venue in the boonies, but regardless it will suck massive amounts of cock. Sure a party bus costs $900 but when you get 45 people to split that, it's $20. You probably couldn't even drive sober to your destination on that much gas. And instead of worrying about driving, drinking, parking, you just worry about picking up a case of beer and boarding.

6. 45 fucking people. That is a party! Most pregames are like 20 people, and that's cool it's an intimate setting to get hammered and plant seeds with the chick you want to take home. It's also an economical way to intoxicate oneself prior to spending upwards of $150 at the bar. But when you get a party bus, things get knocked up to a new level. People view a party bus as a special event and usually rage extra hard. Probably to make up for all those stressful cab rides when they couldn't bounce all over the place taking beer bongs and rumplemintz shots.

5. No seatbelts. Party buses come in all shapes and sizes, but usually you have free reign over the entire vehicle as long as you don't get too out of control. This means dance parties in the aisles, moving around sections of the bus to talk to different groups of people. You could actually host an around the world party on a bus, with each quadrant of the bus having different specialty drinks. In fact, for the Big Ten bar crawl, each row of the bus could represent a school with different campus cocktails...I like where this is going.

4. To properly party you must stand. Most people sit all fucking day, doing data entry and when you sit, you are lethargic, when you sit you get tired, when you stand you are properly poised to RAGE. Think about all the cool drinking games, you stand. The sitting drinking games were the bullshit you played in high school because they were quiet and the parents wouldn't come downstairs. Have you ever done beer jousting? It's like regular jousting except with beer cans instead of lances. Ok Cool. Have you ever beer jousted while driving 70 mph down the PCH? Ya, didn't think so.

3. Pre-emptive win. When you see the army that shows up on the party bus arrive at the event. It is clear they have already won. They are having more fun than you. Oh, you had a few drinks at your house before the thing and then had your mom drop you off? These guys have puke stains on the side of the bus and 3 of the girls are already passed out in the back. They went hard, and will continue to experience this intense comradarie all day, you will not be able to break into their exclusive circle of awesome...unless you arrive on the same bus.

2. Bar crawl is what? Well you either board the bus and continue the party...or you call a cab and wait 30 minutes? Try to drive home and end up in jail? Get a hotel near where the event was? Call a sober friend? Basically you are going to wait around and sadly watch the bus disembark and wish you were on their raging with the A team.

1. Because it's fucking awesome. Whether you find a way to bang a chick in the back of the bus, convince someone to actually use the stripper poll or use the abundance of room to take a nap on the way back to your place so you can rally later that night, everything about a party bus is far superior to everything not party bus. They are always full of debauchery, sleazy encounters with the opposite sex, lots of spilling of liquids and guaranteed memories. You ever see a facebook album of pictures taken on a party bus? Ya, you look on with envy because they are having such a rocking good time. Remember, a party is always better when you are moving.

I hope to see all you left coasters in Hermosa on Saturday and if we go way back but I don't recognize you, it's because I got a one hour head start on you and entered my blackout a little early, it happens, but at least I'm partying responsibly.

Monday, November 21, 2011

Thanksgiving stuff-ing

My mom visited me in LA last week, and while I'm sure you want to hear all about our Mother/Son bonding I just wanted to throw this out as an excuse for why I didn't post anything. We did do some cool shit though, I've decided that the best way to explore your city is to have someone come visit you for an extended period of time. Think about all the stuff you never do in the city you live in because you are like, "eh, I'll go some other day" and you never go. Visitors bring this out in you, there is a ton of great stuff in Chicago that I never saw because I was content to go drink at Bull and Bear on a Saturday at 9 am instead of perhaps the Chicago architectural river cruise. But whatever, that's neither here nor there, come to LA I'll show you some cool shit. I'm V.I.P. at the Laugh Factory now because of work, I had front row tickets to Tosh on Thursday (big deal alert.)

This morning I woke up and thought, "Holy shit, it's Thanksgiving week. I have a flight to Chicago tomorrow. Nice." Now I felt those emotions for a variety of reasons.

Reason A. I still get a huge thrill out of flying. I am like that poor scholarship kid you flew to interviews with in college that had never been on a plane before. I don't know why, I hate driving, traffic and delays...all or some of these are always present at airports, but that is always overshadowed by the sense of looming adventure. Almost every good trip starts out at an airport (roadtrips exempt) Whether you are slamming drinks waiting for your flight to Vegas, reading about an Italian winery you are about to visit or just deciding what magazine you are going to read or what in flight movie you may have, all provide excitement. So ya, I'm that guy that talks to strangers at the airport bar, and foursquare checks in to make everyone jealous that I'm going somewhere, but it's not because I'm a pretentious dickhead, I'm just genuinely pumped to be going.

Reason B. Chicago, Indy, St. Louis, Bloomington, LA. Those are my next 7's going to be an epic bender.

Now in the past, I have written about how amazing black Wednesday is, and maybe it's overrated and maybe I have this morphed sense of how excited people will be to see me back in town. I'm prepared to field a ton of questions about L.A. and blah blah but there really is no better feeling than coming home. You need to leave to realize the little things that you take for granted. There will always be a minimum of 5 cartons of cottage cheese at my parents' house and probably a 4 pack of rockstar and if I can't find someone to go home with at 3 in the morning and I don't have $200 cash to cab it to Geist (slight exaggeration) my mom or brother will pick me up, now that's what home is to me.

So why is a week in the midwest so great in late November? Well it's not. It's probably going to be miserably cold, rain a lot and I'll be ready to come back ten minutes after arriving. That said, this is like the one week in late fall that people will man up, brave the elements and roll to a bar to get fucked up. Everyone you went to high school with will be there, some of them will be married now or want to talk about their kids which is disgusting...

Sidebar: I'm sure there are people my age right now trying to find a babysitter for Wednesday night, so they can "go out and party with the old gang." Listen to me. It's not the same, it was different after you got married, it's even weirder now that you have a kid. If you really want to somehow celebrate the night go out to a nice dinner and order a bottle of wine, I don't need you judging me because you overheard me ask my brother's friends if he has an extra Adderall I can eat. Being married early doesn't make you more adult or better than anyone else. /endrant

Where were we...ripping shots in Ripple and walking to Usual? Wonderful, sounds like an excellent night, and what's even better than all the scandalous hook-ups that go down on Wednesday it is the collective hangover everyone will feel Wednesday. Honestly, who thought to know what this holiday about eating and drinking needs? A MASSIVE HANGOVER. It was probably some skinny bitch who was like we should all go out and rage the night before Thanksgiving so once we gorge ourselves with carbs and meat we can just puke that shit up and go to bed. Whatever, you will get no complaints from me...the only problem I have is that usually I have to get up and drive 4.5 hours on Thursday morning and my parents want to "talk to me" because they haven't seen me in a while. No thanks 'rents, back seat, shades and angry birds for me.

However, I am probably not going to St. Louis this year because of last minute changes. It looks as if I'll be in Indy the whole time, so if someone is short on their turkey bowl roster, hit me up.

After seeing probably 3 movies and spending way too much time at the bar in Brothers, Saturday will gloriously arrive and I will go down to IU for the bucket. I've done my fair share of tailgating this year, but nothing will ever compare to a nice game of handle toss in the fields or the jubilant walk to Kilroys after the game starts. I'm so fucking excited for that and 12 long islands and some buff chick dillas. I don't even know if I'll stay the night or weasel my way into a car heading back north, but I don't even care because it's going to be a celebration of epic proportions.

Great. I've worked myself up into such a frenzy, that I won't be able to sleep tonight. I have a xanax but if I take it, I may miss my shuttle and then I'll be sad and depressed. Cold weather be damned, I am excited to see family and friends and eat like a fucking king and drink like a recovering alcoholic for 6 days. And maybe if I get lucky Wednesday night, there will even be some Thanksgiving stuffing.

Monday, November 14, 2011

Levels of Scary Monsters and Ghosts

Yep as of this evening I will be downloading garage band and locking myself in a hotel room in Venice until I have created a suitable mixtape to drop on some hipster internet music station. I will then let my hair grow impossibly long and wait for the phone to ring offering me 10 grand to play a sold out club in Los Angeles. Followng next will be my tour that sells out the venues across largest cities and campuses in America, watching my adoring fans sweat and roll on ecstasy while I simply press play.

I offer no indictment of the electronic dance music scene, and by no means do I think I provide any original thought by saying that it is easy. For every Skrillex, Avicii and Deadmau5 there are probably 1000 little Scandanavian kids putting out similarly dope beats, yet they are still working at their parents' bakery. I love the genre, I think there is nothing better than jumping around at a dark night club entranced by thumping bass and pretty lights.

I rarely discuss music on this blog because I know relatively little about it. I have 17 OAR cds in my car, one Strokes (hipster cred, I was totally playing Is This It in 2002) and I usually listen to AM radio. And while I do attend a ton of shows especially now in Los Angeles, I am almost always there for the party. A true music lover would go to a show sober solo and still have an outstanding time, yet I didn't even possess the courage to go see Blink 182 by myself at the Hollywood Bowl when they came just a month ago. (What happened to 90's nostalgia? I couldn't even convince anyone at RentaFriend to go with me.)

So while I sit here discussing the EDM nonsense, I don't understand the progression of chords or how to manage the interface of Pro Tools, I do believe that it is one of the most interesting sub cultures in society right now. People are often asking what is the "next big thing" in music. In the 90's it was boy bands, in the early 2000's there was a failed push to return to form with the classic rock band, the jam band thing in its current iteration has arguably been looming for 20 years, but this is really the first time a generation has adopted a theme song.

Why? Is it really that Gen Y doesn't care about lyrical storytelling anymore? Watching live music produced at a concert? Or is it really just about the drugs, getting fucked up and bumping around like an idiot? The music is catchy, it is fun, it jacks me up during a pregame. If I'm at a bar and one of those popular songs comes on I can't help interacting with it in some way, even if it is just a subtle head nod.

When I think back to when I started hearing music similar to this, it was called techno or house, think back to earlyish Daft Punk or Alice DeeJay, but over the years the lines were blurred between techno and mainstream with a heavy influence of more bass and now there are all these 20 year old European kids literally engineering the next chart topper in their bedroom. The real question is are young kids going to stop asking for guitars for Christmas in exchange for a higher powered computer processor that can handle their new intense DJ music programs.

The big guys in this game make roughly $60,000 on a show I would guess and they almost undoubtedly sell out. It's a great business model really, have a bunch of venues set up your tour for you, pop in with your equipment, press a few buttons, put on the facade of having a good time, you're out of there in under 2 hours. Meanwhile the rock bands that we grow up with are playing county rib festivals and dive bars in Fort Wayne. Many pop artists have either adjusted their sound to fit more inside the edm sound, while others are planning straight up collaborations i.e. Elle Goulding and Bassnectar.

Final question, is it really about the music, or has a generation of kids just defined this as the new standard in partying? It seems that party drugs and pills have become this generations marijuana. Our parents' Woodstock is our Electric Forest. Just 5 years ago Lollapalooza featured a rap/rock heavy line-up, this year there were 3 headlining djs and you had to drag people away from the Perry's tent. Rap is even drifting hard to the electric dance medium. Perhaps its a shift in music, perhaps our generation will find any excuse to get fucked up. Whatever the case, it's not going anywhere for the forseeable future, leaving you with 2 options drink the Kool-aid (it is really fun) or lock yourself in a room and emerge when you have created something better.

Wednesday, November 9, 2011

Social Experimentation

I've been slightly busy the past week or so pursuing some worthy literary pursuits. I've been churning out shorts, trying to write a new script and doing copious rewrites on my coke story (it's starting to sound too much like someone took the LS and Len Bias stories and tried to cram it into a made for TV movie)

I've also been staying up until like 3 in the morning watching episodes of Grimm and Once Upon a Time...god they're awful, but awful in a train wreck kind of way where I can't stop watching. So amid watching bad tv, exercises in futility involving my own writing and a 27 page deposition about some Pennsylvania man that diddles kids, I haven't had much time for the blog.

However, I do have a little social experiment I would like to discuss with you. Over the weekend I had like 6 hours to kill after wiffle ball until a dinner with friends. The obvious choice would have been to pick up a 12 pack of beer, post up on the couch and watch college football all day. Ill content to waste my Saturday afternoon I decided to take a drive. I drove south for like an hour and ended up in this lovely little town called Manhattan Beach.

Manhattan Beach is everything I want from LA. It has the beach, everyone wears swimsuits, flip flops, shirts optional, campy spring breakesque bars, tan, flowing blonde hair (LA girls = pasty with black hair), piers with illegal immigrants fishing, surfers, stupid little beach shops (where everyone steals shotglasses and Zippos from on high school spring breaks) It was honestly like a less trashy Panama City. This is exactly what I wanted when I moved here. T-shirts, beach and boogie board shops on the boardwalk. Ever since I got here everyone was like "you would totally love Hermosa, or Manhattan Beach is so your scene." Perhaps I'm that easy to stereotype, perhaps those southern beach towns are just all the good parts of LA (or what I as a midwesterner perceive to be the good parts) without all the bullshit that sucks.

So I didn't have a real point there, but while I was walking down the beach I saw dozens of fire pits, and people having raging beach parties. YES! How have I been here 3 months and not been to a fucking beach party? We drink in hotel lobbies and listen to house DJs every night, weak...beach party for the win.

I got to thinking, wow, I could blow off this do I make these people become my friends, hence the experiment that I now propose to you.

My scientific method is a little rusty but I believe you start out with some sort of question, or topic for your experiment. We'll call this, "Are people inclined to party with a stranger if that stranger brings something to the table."

Goal: Meet new friends, party (Any time I'm alone I always have this fantasy that someone will see me and be like, that kid looks like he wants to have a good time, "Hey man, want to come with us to the sickest most insane party ever and have the greatest night of your life?") This is probably repressed emotions from wanting to be included in the "in crowd" in middle school, nights I would lay by the phone praying it would ring with someone inviting me to do something.

Moving onto the hypothesis: I hypothesize that if I wandered up to a random beach bonfire with a 12 pack of beer, I would be accepted with open arms and have a good time.

Note: I considered 6 pack, but any time you take a 6 pack to a party it is very clear that I BROUGHT THESE 6 BEERS FOR ME, I AM GOING TO DRINK THEM ALL, it's really the bare minimum you can ever bring to an event, it's tacky to show up empty handed, at least bringing a 6 pack you give the notion that you aren't a mooch. Conversely, most people bring a sixer to give off the facade that they contributed, and then end up drinking 12 beers and half of the Goose that someone else brought. Bringing a 12 pack people are like, "What a guy, he brought some to share" immediately this person is offered shots. Always go with the 12 pack, it's not like you aren't going to drink 12 anyway.

Procedure: I figured I would walk along the beach until I saw a group of like minded people, I had a 12 pack of a decent beer...I didn't want my first impression to be High Life. Remember I'm hoping that not only am I granted a bonfire party pass, but I'm fiending for the invite to the house party they are heading to later (if such an after party exists.) Once I found a group that looked fun, I would muster up the courage to approach and say something along the lines of, "Hey guys I brought some beer and my friends bailed on me, anyone want to hang out?" At that point you would have to be a pretty cruel soul to say "eh, fuck off guy, this is our party, go drink over there by the trash can and the's possible, but unlikely. Then I will slowly unravel my life story for them, tell a few of my good stories, find a common bond and just like that I gain acceptance.

Experimentation: I was walking down the beach and there were beautiful food spreads. A soccer ball eventually made it to my feet. Hey, this could be the perfect parlay into hanging out, I'll ask to join this soccer game. I looked up and realized it was just a Mexican family, mother father and four thanks. Every step I took I began to doubt myself more and more. Honestly who just cruises up to an established party and says, hey man I brought my own booze...but at the same time, this is character building, I hear plenty of stories about people going out by themselves and just striking up conversation with their neighbors, this is what makes people interesting.

Finally I saw it, a group of twenty somethings throwing a football. A girl tripped backward and fell on her face, and then got up laughing maniacally. A couple bros did a beer bong. THIS IS IT, I thought. I'm just going to go up there and give it my best shot, perhaps challenge them to a shotgunning contest or something. (Note: A great way to gain favor among a bunch of drunks is to do some sort of alcohol achievement. I was at a Halloween party a couple weeks ago and only knew 1 person there and he was busy munching his girlfriends twat so I approached the keg and did like a 45 second keg stand. I was the most popular guy at the keg the rest of the night) After pacing back and forth like 30 times I finally approached the camp fire, casually cracked a beer and then asked one of the guys if he knew the score of the Alabama/LSU game. Then one of the girls approached and said how did you do that thing with the lighter when you opened your beer? Aha! I had done it, I wowed someone with an alcohol related accomplishment. I was just about to spring the question, hey my friends took off, you mind if I kick it with you guys for a bit...when a ATV cop came and shook me down.

Are you retarded? No glass on the beach.

Sorry sir, I'm from Indiana.

Yah well are you allowed to have glass on your Indiana beaches?

Sir, we have cornfields.

Get your glass out of here, now.

Conclusion: Cops are assholes, even in cool ass beach towns.

I didn't have it in me to return to my potential friends at the bonfire after making the walk of shame back to my car in the parking lot so I just got in and drove home for another average night partying in a hotel lobby. Seriously, you would think we were in high school with the amount of hotel partying we did. At least in high school though we were ripping shots and trying to see how blasted we could get and not drinking 20 dollar martinis and trying to gossip about our insider industry knowledge. Seriously people in LA don't even try to hit on the opposite sex when they are out, it's almost a battle to see who can have the most interesting conversation, who is the best bullshitter about the "next big thing" that they may or may not be working on.

Conclusion 2: Out here you hear a negative connotation in someone's voice when they discuss the campy bars like Cabo Cantina and Barney's Beanery, the bars near the beach that specialize in serving 2 for 1 64 ounce margaritas starting at 3pm on a Saturday, as if getting shitty at a bar on a Saturday is something you need to justify. I'll justify it by calling it fucking awesome, and while I'm recovering from my hangover on Sunday you can write all your friends back home and tell them about your lovely Saturday hike through the canyon with your girlfriend and how you're really psyched about how healthy you've been eating lately...the avocados they're just so fresh. Yah, well so is my fucking In N Out.

Wednesday, November 2, 2011

The Art of Racing in the Reign

Pictured: Oh Cool, just like a week until I can watch this stupid fucking movie about little poor British children fighting aliens.

Sometimes I feel like I take things for granted. For example right now due to my Starbucksesque internet speed at home I have 4 hours remaining until my iTunes rental is done. I've read so much Brett Easton Ellis today that I am starting to feel like one of his hollow characters that embraces total moral apathy and I have consumed enough Shiraz that my teeth will probably be permanently stained purple. Furthermore, I spent the last 2 hours wandering around Westwood and playing Chutes and Ladders with a stranger at a bar while I tried to decipher if Clarissa, the bartender, was hitting on me or trying to enhance her tip. Maybe she was just really impressed with my knowledge of Gin Blossoms, Deep Blue Something and Nine Days. (I mean with that kind of playlist, it had to be an epic night, right?)

All I wanted to do though was lay on a couch somewhere and lord over the TV. It would have been nothing short of a lovely evening, I would have had some Modern Family, American Horror Story and South Park.

Side bar: Tonight's South Park was supposed to be about Occupy Wall Street. I have no idea what the fuck occupy Wall Street is. I think in my head I have it played out like a bunch of hippies just like hanging out on Wall Street. It's not a big street, it's like a little side alley that juts south off of some bigger street and dead ends at whatever body of water that is that separates Manhattan and Brooklyn. Is it just a bunch of pissed off unemployed people hanging out all day? Are they at least having fun? Perhaps bonfires at night? Have open liquor laws been suspended. Now it starts to sound a little more fun. What the fuck is the 99% am I the 99 or the 1? Is the 1% the people who benefit from shady banking tactics? Anyway I don't know what's going on, I watched a video where this chick tried to describe it and then she called herself a "female bodied person, because there are some female bodied people that identify as men and using the terms men and women is discriminatory to transgenders." I immediately lost interest. Now people are occupying everything. I think people should just occupy a bar, and deal with the things that they themselves can control, like their BAC. End sidebar.

Nevertheless, here I am drinking my wine out of my tacky orange plastic wine glass talking about the subtleties of moving to a new place. It's very exciting, but I feel like I should have read a book on the flight over here called "Fuck ya! I landed, now what?"

Chapter 1. Every new person you meet is an audition.
WHOOOOA man so LA, I used an industry term. Seriously, I feel like very few people actually cherish friendships. It probably takes some sort of life changing event such as an accident to realize how important they are. I am a miserable friend, I lose touch within 30 seconds of being away from a person. Most of you reading this probably haven't heard from me since I left, and it's shitty I'll try to do better. I haven't had to like ask a cool dude for his number in so long, it feels so awkward, and especially in LA I'm afraid they will think I'm asking them out or something. But whatever, this is how one adapts to a new place, you have to start somewhere...I probably would have been much better prepared for this had I not grown up in Indianapolis gone to Indiana University and then moved to frat north immediately after graduation. But seriously, I have completely lowered my standards when it comes to someone I would hang out with, I used to set the bar so high and now I'll go kick it with anyone with a pulse, it's sad really, I used to consider myself a premium product, now no matter how much someone sucks I have to make a good impression so I get positive Yelp reviews as a cool guy to go out with.

Chapter 2. Enjoy your thoughts
I spend every day talking to ethnic business owners and trying to convince them that frat dudes have way more money than gdi's so you should buy into the Greek system and like ya, everyone will start coming to your store because the frat guys are trendsetters and shit. (This is pretty close to my actual pitch) I have no shortage of personal interactions on a daily basis. It's not like I am a computer programmer who was transferred to Spokane and I have to Skype with my mom every night and have her hold up the cat so I can smile. But I spend a lot of time in the car, eating lunches alone and my thought wander a lot. It's cool because I have a fairly inventive imagination. Sometimes I write little short stories based on a funny thought I had, or sometimes I shoot out a tweet. But at the end of the day, my Sundays-Thursdays are very similar to probably 95% of Americans, I was just under the illusion that everyone would live with their 5 best friends in a house together hanging out every night until they all mutually decided to marry their girlfriends and move in with them. Not always the case, there is this phase where you see your friends like 3 times a week and then just "relax" on the off nights.

Chapter 3. Find a handful of hobbies
Thank God I like to read and write and movies and sports, because I kind of loath being bored. Some people nap, I can't do that. Some people take Tylenol PM and go to bed at like 8pm, not my style (but, in cases I've wanted to do that I've realized Charles Shaw is much cheaper than name brand Nyquil) Maybe I'll get into cooking, or perhaps I should take some improv classes, or join a club because I just hate inactivity.

Maybe I need a dog, that would probably be a disaster, a cat? Eh, people already question my sexuality enough as is for my love of Glee and broadway.

Beta fish it last beta fish was eaten by one of my roommates when I was away. Fortunately, we aren't in college anymore, so maybe this one will survive a weekend or two.

Whatever the case, LA rocks, I'm still trying to find my niche. I have a small crew, but it is slowly growing every day. I just decided to write this post so that people know that taking a leap of faith is bad ass, but unfortunately you don't always just fall right back in to the perfect social situation you left. That said, you always appreciate something a little more when you have to work for it, so maybe that's what I have going now. Maybe that's why after I finish this book, even if it blows a nine inch cock I will still be proud of it because of how hard I worked. The same way someone that likes to cook probably is thrilled when they see the reaction on someone's face when they taste their famous recipe.

One truth holds solid though...when I get back to Indy on Wednesday November 23, you better tell your parents, roommates, girlfriends, not to wait up, because it's going to be a late night.

Fashion Cents

The internet really is just a rabbit hole that can take you in any direction you desire. We've all gone on that Youtube binge until four in the morning or attempted to read every single article ever posted on Sometimes I will find myself at a Japanese torture porn website or I will find instructions on how to make a dirty bomb on Totse and not even know how I got there (I hope that reference doesn't put me on an FBI watch list, there was a rumor in the late 90's that anyone who downloaded the anarchist cook book was automatically added, but honestly how else was I supposed to figure out the ingredients for a Drano bomb.)

Rarely though do I ever read random blogs. Usually I find them just painful, especially if they are about a newborn or about how much someone loves their husband. But then again none of these people put a gun to your head and force you to read, so if that's how they decide to fill their time for 7pm - midnight, who am I to judge.

The more I read, the more I found that I have just been seeing the world in black and white. These blogs are fucking beautiful, and colorful, and they have all these cool layouts and suggest other blogs you might like...and then sometimes those blogs like you back and you post each other's shit, it's like this big fucking lovefest on the blog network, some memo I missed when I was busy preaching about why blacking out at noon is ok or something stupid like that. No one links to this blog, but that's probably because I've alienated almost everyone at this point, but they'll come around.

There is something called Pinterest, that is just a collection of cool stuff. Nice plants, art, food recipes, inspirational quotes...whereas my room in Encino looks like this:

Now let me give you an idea of what is going on in that picture. That is my plain ass desk that I sit at and work on my drug novel, my blog about an empty lifestyle of non-stop partying and occasionally send after hours work emails...One would think that this exact piece of furniture was in Heath Ledger's apartment when he was learning to method act the role of The Joker. Situated on that desk you will see (not all is visible) an empty bottle of 2 buck chuck and a couple empty beer cans called Simpler Times ($1.99/6 pack) There is also a stick of degree, a small bottle of Lawry's, the only piece of mail I've received since I've been out here (it's a singing card) and a copy of The Red Bulletin (The Redbull lifestyle magazine)

Pretty fucking depressing. Furthermore I sleep on a mat using a blanket as a pillow and a sheet as a blanket...prisoners live better than this. And this whole time I'm thinking, whatever, I'm in Cali, I just sleep here. Give me a solid internet connection and some Hulu I can lay on that mat for hours. Or so I thought, until I started seeing all these beautiful food blogs, and fashion design sites. Usually I get all jacked up about how hard I'm going to rage on a pay day Friday, but really, I've come to the realization that I have no assets. Sure I've got better memories than most, there's surely something to be said about that, but I have a bunch of empty white walls in my room and that makes me sad. Don't they put insane people in white rooms? I'm tired of blowing paychecks to rent alcohol only to piss it out 3 hours later and spend my hangover in my dungeon of discomfort.

I would like to applaud all the boring blogs out there with your abundance of pretty pictures, and shopping tips at CB2. I think about $200 in linens, perhaps a nice plant, a lava lamp and some retro posters could turn this hostel I live in, into something of a suitable home. Now that's not to say that I am going to change my midweek activities of either drinking a six pack or a bottle of wine and working on my writing...but I think it would just seem a little less pathetic if I kicked it up to some micro brew or a non 8 quarter bottle of wine, and from the comfort of a lazy boy perhaps, not this wooden thing that came from the one-room school house in Corydon, IN.

And once I have a cactus in here and perhaps a real mattress I will probably resume harassing people who take pictures of their cookies fresh out of the oven and link to cute wedding photography blogs. But for now, I would like to take the time to thank you for showing me the light...because there is more to internet blogging than attempting to type yourself 1000 words closer to the fountain of youth.

Monday, October 31, 2011

Happy Halloween

Halloween on a Monday kinda blows. It's not positioned on the weekend nor is it midweek which could break up the monotony a bit. Most of you probably blew it out over the weekend, but several of you will throw on that costume one more time and limp out tonight and extend the party one more time. I tip my cap to you. I had a relatively tame Halloween all things considered but the LAPD did dispatch their riot helicopter to bust the party I attended...and I thought those Shingles raids in college were bad.

Eat some candy, watch some slasher flicks and if you do go out and rage your face tonight make sure you have enough money in your account for the rent check to clear in the morning.

Wednesday, October 26, 2011


I'm going to do something a little different today. I'm sure you tire from my countless rants about living the dream and blah blah blah. Anyway, aside from ranting I have also been working on a novel for about a year. I'm about 2/3 of the way done, I may have gotten drunk at some point or another and told you about it and maybe you were, maybe you weren't interested.

The premise is that a frat house mom is a drug dealer to pay off her dead husband's medical bills and the President and Treasurer of the frat let it happen as long as they can split some of the profits to help buff up the fledgling social fund. I decided to post a random chapter for your enjoyment, perhaps you will be interested and ask me to send you the finished copy when I'm done. Perhaps you will see that it still uses a lot of f words and takes place in college and you will think I am one dimensional, or maybe you will give me an idea that I will end up using and then I will give you special thanks on the back cover.

This is Chapter 14, John, the President is shopping for the party booze with his good friend David. He is shooting the shit with his buddy while they pick up party supplies, but also for the first time, trying to rationalize the actions that he is taking, enjoy!

I always enjoyed going to the liquor store with a a few thousand dollars and a shopping cart. In the past it was always house money, I would go with David and maybe another senior to pick up the party booze. Back then it was a bit scandalous, we were using money that we had technically laundered through sludge funds, but no one really cared. It was just a routine one had to go through when having an illegal fraternity party. Technically it wasn’t illegal to have a party, just to serve alcohol. But you would have to be pretty naive to think that a frat was spending $5000 on party decorations.

We had shelled out more than usual on decorations for the Fall formal, it wasn’t just a party after all, it was a date function. Usually it was more important to impress the girl you were banging consistently more than a handful of Freshman sluts. We filled the courtyard with sand and a pool, and we actually got a dj instead of throwing on an iPod with a playlist...the dj was always a waste anyway because that’s what he did, brought his itunes library and pressed play, whatever it looked legit.

That left us three grand for liquor and chasers...very little beer necesary at a date party. 100 guys in the house, a date for each, thats 200 people, which means we’ll need 50 handles and about 20 boxes of wine. 20 should be vodka, 10 rum, 5 whiskey, 5 gin, 5 jager, 5 whatever. and then just a ton of 2 litres. There are people that live in poverty all over the world and we just spent $2992.68 on booze.

Well that’s how it usually felt. This time it was drug money, we had accepted the advance from our senile old house mom who was selling cocaine, and I had gone along with it because I didn’t want to let me friends down.

It had been a few days and I had largely avoided Irma. It was now Thursday and I hadn’t noticed anything out of the ordinary. I had vague knowledge of how her operation was working, but I thought it best not to ask questions. Our arrangement was more or less that we got a cut of her profits for allowing her to use our house as her base of operation. At the beginning of each week Irma would give me our cut during our weekly meeting in which we went over house matters. I suppose this was a house matter, we are supporting the bleeding finances of our social fund with drug money.

We also agreed that if I ever had to answer to anyone on our housing corp or with the university about our new influx of money, we had to come up with a long term plan. Anonymous alumni donations could work for a temporary fix, but at some point that would raise questions from the board. The university would probably leave us alone as long as we weren’t stupid, but the house would surely want that alumni money going somewhere other than straight to our pockets. I had to come up with an excuse fast.

In the mean time, I managed to get Meg to come to formal with me. I had decided that at least for a while, I wanted to keep her close to the vest. She was really the only one that knew our secret and if I dispatched of her too quickly, she could bring this whole operation down. I did kind of like her too, so I didn’t mind bringing her to the dance, however we both agreed the office was off limits.

David was busy trying to convince me that this whole thing wasn’t a big deal at all. There were rumors of cocaine dealers in every fraternity on campus, and most of the rumors were probably true. Even though there were big players out there moving pretty solid weight none of them seemed to ever go down.

“Who would believe that our house mom is selling blow? It’s propostrous. All the Long Island jews are much more likely to be doing that shit, and they’re also selling molly, tree, probably ghb so they can get eachother laid, we’ll be fine.” He would say.

It was a ridiculous thought, and if one of the campus dealers were going to go down it would probably be someone who was doing it bigger and had been doing it longer. Another thing we had going for us was that no one else in the house knew what was going on. Most fraternity drug dealers started by dealing inside the house and then eventually started compromising their morals and going on the outside, by then everyone knew. But, no one except David and me knew what was going on here. Heck we didn’t even know how it worked, I knew here drugged out grandson was involved somehow. Maybe Irma’s target market would be the high school kids or townies.
20 frats on campus, at least one dealer in all of them, plus the dorms and the countless gdi’s all over town. Maybe this wasn’t that big of a deal. Plus, they never go after the small dealers, it’s about following it up. The entire police force would go broke if they chased around every guy that had sold a couple bags.

My favorite part of buying all the booze for the party was the fact that you had to act like a spy on the way back. The don’t ask, don’t tell policy with the police and greek boozing was to keep it out of sight. That said, if you parked in the lot in front of the house and just paraded alcohol inside for 10 minutes, they were likely to say something. A few years ago some cowboy cops started checking SUVs with Greek decals to see if they were riding low. If they were they would assume that there were a lot of cases in the back and pull the guys over for some bullshit like speeding or a tail light. Then once they saw the booze, it was over. For this reason we had to take a back way to the house and if we had a tail, lose it before we got home, then we would call ahead and have the courtyard opened, pull the vehicle inside and shut the courtyard gate, it’s like being the Jason Bourne of partying.

Tuesday, October 25, 2011

And then there were none

Does anyone watch Gossip Girl anymore? I understand it isn't as good as season 1...but neither was O.C. season 3, yet it's still adequate, and everyone will miss it some day when it's gone. That's neither nor there, but I have been keeping up because I don't have a TV and it's one of the few shows I can stream on my laptop. (Believe me, last night when I hopped in bed with my laptop I was fully ready to watch some exploding zombies in the Walking Dead but AMC is getting all cunty and trying to get me to buy episodes on iTunes...the nerve.)

Anyway, a main character on the show, wrote this book and it burned all of his friends, really made them out to the terrible people that they are, selfish, conniving, irresponsible, apathetic. Slutty, beautiful, spoiled brats. Now I realize, that the fact that everyone on that show is a page 6 trust fund baby, it's kind of like the Kardashians and friends just set in New York. But it got me thinking, what if I just turned this into a no holds barred tell all about everyone's inadequacies and flaws, and really threw around the juicy gossip. Would people care what a bunch of upper middle class white kids from the midwest are up to? Who's fucking who under wraps and who is developing what drug problem, who is moonlighting as a Craigs List scam artist? Probably not...I'll stick with the social satire. It's more fun and I get to keep friends.

Now that I have that asinine diatribe out of the way, it's fucking HALLOWEEEEEEEEK. This means Michael Meyers movies all day every day! This means if you are a male or a girl that works out twice a day you can start gorging yourself with candy starting now...I'm just kidding, everyone can start doing that, as long as they are ok with the consequences of said actions. Halloween parties will probably start Wednesday, people are probably already freaking out about their lack of witty Halloween costume ideas. There are probably a stack of Friday and Saturday party invites for Facebook events that you can't decide between, just use some social strategy and maximize your potential, but just know that you can never hit more than two in a night, and you are going to hurt feelings, but fuck it, we're twentysomething not 12 and if you don't get invited to that scorned acquaintance's birthday party I think we'll all get through it together.

I am going as a Mormon from Book of Mormon. There you saw it here first. FUCKING DIBS. ELDER PRICE, THIS GUY ME. Haha, now if you are caught wearing a mormon costume, even if it was an original idea people will assume you jacked the idea from me and you will also be identified as one of my faithful followers...I'm not sure what kind of social stigma that carries but, ya.

Here comes my dilemma. Any other normal Halloween, I would dress up 3 nights, get hammered all three and marvel at the cleavage of the fairer sex. Sure the past few years I have woken up next to a Britney Spears, The Bride from Kill Bill and maybe a cop (Note: this was probably because I always hosted the Halloween parties and they would get out of hand and people would just stay over, I am no self-appointed Halloween stud or anything...speaking of that, is my old house having a Halloween party this year? That was our staple) anyway Halloween is fucking great. I like the decorations, the fog, the costumes (especially the tacky ones,) the scary shit all of it...but then comes the curveball, Homecoming.

UGHHGHHHHHHHHHHHHH...WHY WHY did these two fantastic events have to be concurrent. This should have been an excuse for two killer weekends, but now they are all crammed into one. Truth be told, I probably won't make it back for Homecoming this year, which makes me very sad. I missed homecoming last year to go to the Bahamas, and even though I had a fucking blast there and didn't get arrested at the border I still felt a little unfulfilled, and by the time Little 5 comes around in the Spring I'll be twenty fucking five, and know not a soul there. See that's the thing, everyone is convinced that by your mid 20's it's time to grow up and stop doing crazy shit like bongs of Vodka or beer showers in the courtyard. Apparently I didn't get the memo, but that's whatever, I'm not going to be able to change that. And I think it makes it even doubly pathetic to fly cross country for the event to go party in a college where I now officially know nobody. I guess my brother still goes there but he's barely enrolled, not even the pledges I would sparingly haze as a Senior are still around, and who knows who lives in Shingles, Shambles, Stout, Superfrat...probably a bunch of geeds.

But that's not the case at Homecoming. Homecoming is for fucking me, you, all of us. Come home alumni, and pretend if just for a day, that you are back. Then make a big donation and go home. Ok, I'm all in minus that last part. But it probably won't even happen for me. I've got a lot of shit to do at work this week, and I don't know if anyone is going back, and I just got here, and surely there should be some fun Halloween party to go to in LA. Or fuck it I could drive to Vegas, I'm sure shit there is popping off.

What about your last minute travel arrangements you say? Hotels are booked, flights are probably expensive. Fuck that, I have my parents' credit card information and I'm feeling spontaneous. And honestly what's the worst case scenario, I end up hanging out with my old roommates' younger brother and crashing in the formal. I'm sure all the recent 2011 grads will be there, they rock.

Really, if I can be brutally honest with you, the only thing holding me back right now is my absolutely fantastic Halloween costume idea. I have a feeling if I spend the week at Homecoming I would be too obsessed with the idea of raging and/or chasing around a sorority girl in a Katy Perry costume that I will end up never getting the glory my costume deserves. Ridiculous, I know. But also shouldn't a trip back to the midwest be more substantial than going to Bloomington. I mean really it should be pretty low on the list. I haven't been to New York in 9 months, I could go visit my friends in Chicago, I could see my cat in Indianapolis. I could go somewhere new and fun like Austin. Really Bloomington should be pretty fucking low on the list. I'm old, I'm that guy, it's beginning to get a bit pathetic, I can always go to the Oaken Bucket game over Thanksgiving. That should make up for it...well it will be better than last year when I fell off the stage at Bear's and spent the entire tailgate in the trunk of my mom's trailblazer.

Ya, that's right Bloomington, you're boxed out for the time being, there are more important things to do, maybe spend that money on a bed for my room here, and stop sleeping on a mat. Maybe I could just spend that $300 on ballin in LA this weekend, and just do Halloween right. Or maybe after Softball on Thursday night, I order one too many Hennepins at Third Stop, get back to the Versailles chuck a few shopping carts off the roof, crack a few loko and then start surfing the most dangerous app ever created, kayak mobile. I book a flight to Chicago, I rage all night Friday, I convince someone at Beaumont's at 4am to take me to Bloomington in 3 hours. I sleep the whole way and have one more epic bender of a homecoming. Make it back to Indy Sunday afternoon, see all the people I need to see, eat one of my dad's steaks and take the 6am non-stop flight back to LA Monday morning arriving at 830am local time. Go to work on no rest, and then don my book of Mormon costume Monday, October 31st and wish this city a Happy fucking Halloween.

November 1st will be a rough day.