21 Questions

Full disclosure, I was extremely hammered when I wrote this last night...it 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.

“Really?”
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.

“Really?”
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.