When I was 18 years old I went to all of my high school's hockey games. I didn't know a thing about the game, but my friends were on the team and the Fishers Forum was a great place to secretly publicly drink. I would sit in the back row with some of my pals and some of the rowdier dads and just scream at the opposing team. I mean we are talking Randy Quaid from Major League level heckling. I went to a very conservative private school, but it was hockey after all, so this behavior was certainly a grey area. Most of the Indiana teams we would absolutely wreck. We were rich kids who grew up with plenty of fancy equipment and money for ice time, and our opponents were the equivalent of a pre-Bombay Mighty Ducks. Every team except for one, those bastards from Carmel.
On the surface, Carmel stands for everything I used to believe in; lots of conservative wealthy white people, doing conservative wealthy white things. But because Carmel was the "other" rich neighborhood in Indianapolis, and the "other" big school in which a bunch of white kids inexplicably excelled at athletics, I was conditioned to hate them.
And hate them I did.
But there was one motherfucker that I hated more than any of them. His name was Dan Karlander and he would absolutely wreck our hockey team. All these rumors swirled around that he had taken a 5th year of high school to try to win a state title or that he was snorting ground up deer antlers to gain an edge on Cathedral hockey. I would find out years later at an Alpha Chi formal in St. Louis that he was actually just a sweet fucking dude.
(Side note: There is this crazy bond that you form with other dudes you meet at a girl's formal. Especially if you are in the same block of rooms. I don't know what it is about dude strangers in a new city going on a liquor run that makes them immediate best friends, but I've seen it hundreds of times. The budding bromances are the reason that by senior year there will be a party with 8 guys from 8 different frats ripping shots together while groups of sorority girls uncomfortably stare across the room at each other.)
But anyway, while sipping some whiskeys at the Embassy Suites in St Charles, MO (yes this was a fuck-up by the AXO social chair) Dan told me about the funniest thing I had ever heard. He told me about the word FROT.
Frotting sometimes called "docking" is when two males rub their dicks together in a form of safer non penetrative sex. (Click that link, it's the greatest wikipedia page of all time) I imagine it is roughly the homosexual equivalent to just the tip. And while there is nothing inherently funny about two males expressing their love for one another, I did find it ironic that FROT was so extremely close to the word FRAT, and that the chief criticism of fraternity members was the fact that they were closeted homosexuals that paid for their friends.
The formal was lovely, I toured the Budweiser plant, stepped on a broken champagne bottle in the hot tub, and spent the rest of the trip on my back with my date trying to extract shards of glass from my foot.
Years went by of course, I graduated from college, moved to Los Angeles, and I no longer think it's an impressive fate to own a half million dollar home in Hamilton county.
I haven't thought about that trip to Missouri in probably 5 years, until I was thinking about starting a podcast. Well, I've decided it's a go.
The Single Dude Podcast will be recorded weekly with a guest, we will talk about why we moved to Los Angeles, what we're trying to do, how we get there and shit we're doing along the way. I hope the podcast will be an entertaining look at a view from the bottom. Obviously most guests on podcasts have achieved fame and are looking back on their past when they discuss their story, by interviewing a bunch of my buddies who are still near the bottom, it's a more real view of what that looks like on the way up.
Of course, the other half will be fucking around and talking about life in LA and the shit that we like to do. But what I'm really looking for is help.
I have no clue what I am fucking doing. With this blog, with my life and now especially with this podcast. At least on here, I just write down some crap and press publish and it's out there. But as there is an evolving yet wildly inconsistent message with this blog (I'm going to try to be more positive...FUCK THAT high waisted jeans are retarded!) I am going to try to stick to some sort of format with this podcast.
I'll record a few episodes and I'll hope that I start to find my groove eventually, and I hope you'll be patient with it. I just bought some recording equipment off of Amazon Prime and hopefully my brain isn't too fried to figure it out.
However, I am seeking feedback.
You can reach me the following ways.
You can YO! me, You can LinkedIN message me, You can leave a tip at a place I visit a lot on foursquare, you can comment on one of my instagram photos, you can send me a snap chat of your feedback THUS DESTROYING ALL EVIDENCE THAT YOU EVER SENT IT. You can call me, text me, leave notes on my car.
Who do you want me to talk to? What kind of stuff are you interested in hearing about? Do you have questions that you want me to answer on the podcast or in this blog (I'll make you anonymous)
Do you have software/hardware recommendations? Is there a better name than Single Dude Podcast.
Oh, I should probably pay off the overlong intro. I thought Frotcast would be a really funny name for a podcast, but I did a little searching and a movie blog I read is already using it.
I know this blog, my Facebook/Twitter is an exercise in indulgence. I say lots of controversial things and it's hard to divide schtick from reality. I promise, this podcast will be real-ish. So give me a few weeks to get it going and then check it out and see if it's for you. I have no experience and will likely crash and burn, but then again, who thought I would still be blogging nine years after I got back from Florence or after I was fired for writing preposterous shit like this?
No, I pressed on. I take breaks now and again, but the truth is I really like doing this. I'm sure some day I'll look back on all of this and be like MY GOD WHAT WAS I THINKING. I mean that link from May of 2010 up there is pretty damning, yet I press on. Maybe I'll cobble a few pieces of this together as a memoir some day, or maybe it will reflect my character arc as I attempt to navigate this crazy journey called life. But now there will just be a new wrinkle to everything, as I introduce you to the interesting people that are kind of along for the ride with me. And hopefully some of the people you hear on this podcast will be the movers and shakers of tomorrow...well at least one of them so I can ride their coat tails to the top.
The Single Dude podcast is a go.
Tuesday, June 24, 2014
For all intents and purposes, my "sober" month is over. Saturday I am going to go to the horse track all day and will bet recklessly on horses that have funny names. I will likely take north of 20 shots of fireball and I will definitely seek out hard drugs at a Funny or Die party later that night, but Friday night I'll probably stay in because, I want to.
That pretty much sums up how I felt about my sober month. It's something that I did because I wanted to do it, see if I would notice any change in how I felt, in how I looked, how I spent my time. The results were a bit of a mixed bag. Unfortunately, quitting alcohol (for the most part) for 4 weeks will not give you a six pack; waking up on Monday morning still blows, and I still owe the city of Los Angeles over $1000 in traffic fines.
But...I also did my first triathlon (2nd place 25-29!) started working out again, wrote a new pilot, started a new job, read a couple books, finished Lost and developed an obsession with Amazon Prime. Sure, you might not throw $40 on an eight ball when you aren't blacked out, but that savings will turn into a new front door 'welcome' mat with free next day shipping. You either CAN save money or you can't, the alcohol is not to blame.
I've received some feedback that my blog is too long. OH GOD, SORRY YOU HAVE BETTER STUFF TO DO THAN READ MY BULLSHIT. But I have listened, and I'm trying to neatly package things that make it easier to follow. So today's content will be delivered a hyper pretentious SWOT analysis, because I am a douchebag of the highest order. I see you Kelley School of Business!
- a universal excuse
For some reason, somewhere along the line it became rude and unacceptable to say no to things that you just don't want to do. Perhaps we have a culture that demands universal appeasement, but I find myself saying yes to a bunch of shit that I do not want to do, and then stressing out about finding some elaborate excuse. You tell people that you aren't drinking? They get it. No, I don't want to go to the Avalon and see some Dutch teenager press buttons and shoot CO2 cannons, I want to eat some Sugarfish in bed and fall asleep watching Netflix on my iPad.
- know your real friends
When you aren't drinking it's easy to draw the line between friends and party pals. A buddy of mine told me this when he did sober January, "you realize that the only thing you have in common with most of the people you hang out with is partying" It's true. And a little pathetic. Most of the people I hang out with I've probably never had a real conversation with. Conversation relies exclusively on stories about times we were fucked up, to making plans on where to get fucked up next. The flip side of this though is the people you still make time to see outside the realm of raging. Let's go see a movie, play some trivia, catch dinner, go for a ride. When you remove alcohol from the equation, if you still want to see someone, that's the measure of a real friendship.
- Single - alcohol = forever alone
When your game relies exclusively on dance floor make outs, you might as well tuck the dick away for a month too. Even if you are on Tinder/OKC or whatever the kids are using these days, people will think you're weird if you don't drink on a first date. Best to just chalk the whole month up to a loss and work on personal things. The thing I'm most excited about to be drinking again is to intentionally get boners on the dance floor and make no attempt to hide it. I never understood that scene from 'The Wood' when little Omar Epps wanted to hide his erection from the hot girl. I feel like gauging a girl's reaction to incidental boner contact tells you a lot about how the night is going to end up.
- Certain things are just less fun
You can have a blast sober. Shooting guns, learning archery, riding bikes, surfing, driving up the coast...all great. Sitting in a bar cheering for the USA or going to a Lykke Li concert just are not going to be as much fun sober, or any alcohol enhancement activity. I mean I played soccer growing up, but I'm mainly in this for patriotic camaraderie. Same with music, if I wanted to go to a concert strictly for the performance I would go see Wicked. (Or ONCE playing at the Pantages, who's in!?!) I go to shows to get fucked up and dance. I went to a few bars sober, went to a few parties sober and it was...fine. But it's annoying to be outside in the middle of a conversation when a group runs up stairs to take shrooms or something. On nights like that, it's best just to go watch Lost or the Paris Hilton sex tape.
As horrible as I still feel on Mondays, it is definitely something to wake up on Saturday/Sunday at 8am ready to grab the day by the balls. It is SHOCKING how much of a time suck drinking can be. I would say on a typical weekend I start immediately after work on Friday and don't fully recover by Tuesday morning. Sure I'll squeeze a 30 mile ride in there on Saturday so I don't feel like an enormous piece of shit, but I'm hungover the whole time, it's a total struggle and I'm strictly doing it to justify the copious amounts of poison I will be ingesting the moment I finish. (I'm talking beer in the shower) But when you AREN'T hungover, and not in a rush to get to some epic blowout afternoon pool party, my god, the possibilities are endless. In one day I ran a triathlon, went into work for 8 hours, knocked out an entire season of Lost, got a back massage and finished a draft of my new pilot (tentatively titled Always West of Lincoln, because...of course) If anything this experiment has taught me, it's how fucking productive you can be on a sober weekend. And it doesn't even have to be REAL stuff. I might take a weekend off in July so I can go skydiving, get certified to scuba dive, go to Medieval Times, Sea World, Portillo's, Six Flags, Knott's Berry Farm..and then just chill on the couch Sunday.
Not that I would ever advocate anyone leaving the comfort of the Los Angeles West Side (Lincoln is the Wall and everyone east of there is a wildling @kpo) But ya know, when you aren't drunk all the time you can actually explore your surroundings a bit on the weekends. During my quest, I spent time in Malibu, Elysian Park, The *gasp* valley and Orange County. I nearly took a road trip down to San Diego/Tijuana to pick up some bootleg pharmaceuticals. Sure you could do this drunk too, but that would be one hell of an Uber bill, and does cabbing around Los Angeles drunk by yourself sound like that good of a time? Last time I was super fucked up at a museum it was the Anne Frank house, and I felt supreme German shame. It takes a degree of clarity to appreciate art/history. Side note: Saturday night I was way the fuck up in rich Brentwood. North of sunset, like the REAL rich part. I took an uber back to Venice at about 4 in the morning, for NINE BUCKS. I love my Mini, but if I get one more email about Uber slashing prices, I may sell my car.
- Perceived as boring
As great as it is to have a universal excuse when you aren't drinking, it also works both ways. If someone gets a last minute ticket to the Jay Z concert or a suite at a Kings game, their first thought is not likely to be 'Hey, I'll take the sober guy!' During the month of June my phone rang less frequently than when I was an unpopular high school Sophomore. It's possible that inexplicably during one of the greatest months of the year there just wasn't a lot going on. And of course, a lot of people vacation in the summer...but I think it's more likely that it was assumed that I would not be interested in going to a rager at the Playboy Mansion. I mean, ya I was enjoying the Flash Sideways aspect of season 6, but staring at a bunch of naked bunnies in the grotto is about as close as I'm going to get to real female companionship! I'm in!
I live for the unknown, especially as someone who fancies himself a storyteller, I live for the wild crazy shit that can only be born organically out of a bender. If I wanted a comfortable existence, I would do accounting in the Midwest. I would agonize over my expense reports and I would be posting on Facebook shit like "I'm a homeowner." Or Sarah is pregnant! Instead I am much more excited by gauging the reaction of some nameless barfly when I do something inappropriate on the dance floor. Maybe she'll take me to a warehouse party in Compton at 4am! Maybe we're soul mates! Maybe we'll cab back to her place San Bernidino in the now extremely reasonably priced UberX! I hope she invited me to burning man next year!
I did this sober month not because I wanted to cut back on the negative externalities of my drinking, but I wanted to see if anything positive would come from NOT drinking. And it totally did, with the obvious revelation being how much time you suddenly stumble upon when you don't aspire to crawl to the bottom of a bottle all weekend. When you work 70 hours a week and your Monday-Friday are in essence lost, this can be extremely valuable.
When I set out to do this I said, change has to start from the inside. You can't decide to do something because a girl broke your heart or you missed a promotion you felt you deserved, you have to want to change. I called this post "Soberish" because I didn't quite make it. I had a couple beers Saturday night and I had a few more during the soccer game Sunday, the reason? I wanted to. Another thing this experiment taught me was how to deal with peer pressure. I always thought that would be the reason for my eventual cave, but despite that there were literally 8 boozebags sleeping on my floor for 10 days begging me to drink every night, I only did when I decided I wanted to. And that's the ownership I'm taking on my life. No excuses, if I do something it's because I want to. I want to live an active lifestyle that juxtaposes juice cleanses and Ironmans with molly rolls. I think you can do both. There is some bullshit principle called the duality of man. I have no idea what it means, but I think you can have it all.
There is a switch we all have, an on/off of sorts. What your switch controls is entirely up to you. Some people like to spend time with friends and then spend a good chunk of time alone, in introspection. That's cool. Others may find it hard to work on a creative project while living a normal life so they isolate themselves temporarily until they finish. I enjoy equally time spent chugging down coffee bouncing ideas off of a creative collaborator as I do reading a book on the beach with a cocktail. I like doing 5ks where you are drenched in paint, I like raves where you are drenched in paint. And if some day that switch becomes harder to switch on and off, I'll just stop. A writer on the tragically doomed masterpiece Ironside gave me the best advice I've ever received.
1. Don't Jump off high shit.
2. Be nice to people
3. When you're done drinking, just stop.
Well Mick, I'm working on 1 and 2, but the party isn't over just yet.
Wednesday, June 18, 2014
Last week Mila Kunis (the person that always gets me through a bad break-up via Forgetting Sarah Marshall) became an America hero when she went on the Tonight Show and made a Public Service Announcement that men needed to stop saying "We're pregnant."
Now I'll be honest, I haven't seen the video all the way through but she highlights things like the fact that women may wake up nauseous with morning sickness during a pregnancy. While men may wake up nauseous during the same pregnancy, but it's because they got shitfaced with their homies "BLAAAAAAH I'm gonna be a dad!" Not a fair trade Kunis claims, and I agree. Women certainly catch the short end of the stick when it comes to pregnancy. But furthermore, I loathe the entire idea of a married couple becoming a literal single unit. We're pregnant would be the same as saying, "we're having our period," "we're passing a kidney stone," "We're getting our prostate examined," NO!
Your wife is pregnant, be supportive and give her all the ice cream she wants.
But there are 5 more trends happening in the world right now that need to be smothered with a pillow and shot in the face. Here is my public service announcement.
5. Men wearing engagement rings
Women wear engagement rings for two reasons, to make their friends self conscious and to publicly tell other men that "No, I will not sleep with you." Really, it's a jewelry of convenience. Instead of walking up to a beautiful girl out with her friends, buying them drinks all night only to find out that it's not going to happen, a quick glance at the left hand and a little sparkle calls a mission abort. Every little girl dreams of her wedding day her whole life, the perfect dress, the perfect venue, the cake...the band, what song will she dance with her father, where will the honeymoon go? The wedding is for her. Alec Baldwin said it best in The Departed, for men marriage is proof that you aren't a queer* and your dick works. (*A dated 2006 reference) Men meanwhile tend to focus on how many youth sports they will involve their sons in and how great it will be to have free labor again. (Truth; kids = pledges)
The man that wears an engagement ring is a self conscious little pussy. Either he is doing it because his fiance forced him to or he REALLLLY wants you to know that he is getting married. This is like the guy that interjects himself in any conversation his significant other has at a party. HI I'M HER BOYFRIEND, WHO ARE YOU!? "This is Carl from work honey, chill the fuck out." Anyway, man wearing engagement ring guy is definitely "we're pregnant guy" and they're both getting cheated on.
4. Radical hair changes
The description of Ombre hair reads like one of Stephan's monologues. OMBRE is this season's HOTTEST drip dry trend for hair! YOU can look like a CALICO CAT in heat wearing sun-in.
Because that's all it is right? Highlights that start halfway down?
And look, I get it. Women are jealous they missed out on the frosted tips era of the 90's.
3. Lying about where you live
It's the world cup, so patriotism and xenophobia are at an all time high. I personally think that xenophobia (fear of people from other cultures) is the most socially acceptable of all prejudices. Back to back world war champions buys you the right to be a little cocky, and sure everyone hates Yankee fans, but you have to respect their capitalistic gangster. They spend more money than most and crush the little guy. That's my interpretation of the American Dream right there. But beyond being a solid patriot, I also take irrational pride in my neighborhood, and I can't stand people that lie about theirs.
Long before great Americans like John Brooks Jr. and Matthew McConaughey a bunch of men and women fought for our freedom. That freedom allows, among many other things, for you to live wherever the fuck you want.
It did not however, grant you the freedom to live close to a desirable area and self-identify as a resident. We live in a land of defined boundaries. If you live east of Walgrove, you do NOT live in Venice. If you live Beverly Hills Adjacent, it is not BASICALLY Beverly Hills. If you live in one of the poor neighborhoods across the street from Geist Reservoir in Indianapolis, please tell people you live in Lawrence or Oaklandon. West of Clybourn is no longer Lincoln Park. If you live in Harlem well...you do technically live in Manhattan I suppose. I RESPECT THIS LOOPHOLE!
Look there is no shame in living in Studio City because you don't love your kids enough to send them to private schools. Just don't spout out some bullshit about living in "Laurel Canyon" it's not a real place. YOU ARE VALLEY TRASH.
I for one will be raising my kids in the 90291, sending them to Venice High, where they will learn how to handle a skateboard and a switchblade.
2. Your discovery of Eastern religion
Of all the grievances I have with hipsters, this is undoubtedly the bullshit I find most egregious. For the most part, I think hipsters act the way they do for the same reason that most people behave certain ways. They want to get laid. I act bro-y and obnoxious because I am largely interested in banging rich immature sorority girls, they seem to approve of my schtick. If I wanted to hook up with art school drop outs with tattoos and gauged ear piercings I would move to Silverlake, pick up a pack of Lucky Strikes and buy a bunch of plaid shirts to go with my skinny jeans. I would hang out at the Echo, listen to struggling singer-songwriters and have the cover of a Bon Iver album branded on my shoulder blade.
I just cannot condone, your paradigm shift in your religious beliefs. If you are a white or black kid living in America you grew up Catholic, Protestant, Jewish or nothing. Maybe a few black kids were members of the Nation of Islam, which I'm fairly sure was just a religion started to spite white people and get out of the World War II draft, but I'll even turn a blind eye to that.
But you cum guzzlers that read the "Eight Fold Path" somewhere and now feel enlightened, oh you can go straight to whatever hell they believe in. I imagine being reincarnated as an ant that gets torched via a magnifying glass by a four year old REAL HINDU in New Delhi would be a pretty shitty fate. That's irony right there. The truth is, I find the studying of religion to be very fascinating. I learn stuff from all cultures that I can use in my daily life. But reading an article in Vice doesn't make you a Daoist. I now damn you to an eternity of watching the Keanu Reeves film, Little Buddha.
1. High Waisted Jeans/Shorts
I do not know how this ever became a thing. I understand how neon came back. (Ecstasy) I understand how member's only jackets came back (white guys nostalgic of a time they could be latently racist and call nerds on the playground queers) I do not understand how FUPA jeans made a comeback. I can say objectively that high waisted jeans are an affront to humanity. Everything that women's fashion has accomplished in the past 20 years (spanx, padded bras and yoga pants to make the body appear more desirable) has been wiped from the Earth in a nuclear holocaust, because now THIS is cool.
That is Mischa Barton. She used to represent everything I believed in (assuming she was the exact same as Marissa Cooper) She was skinny, tall, wealthy and dressed like a popular girl at a prep school.
This is Marissa dead, after she has literally been hit by a car. But notice she still looks significantly better than in the high waisted jeans. The low cut denim shows her slender figure and the casual top says hey, I'm sexy but I don't always have to turn it on.
Case in point to women...no one gives a shit about your hips. Those high waisted shorts you wore to Coachella aren't REALLY making your butt (#teamboobs) look great, just drawing unwelcome attention to your belly button unless you have a body mass index under 19. If you want to try a new fun fashion, how about a romper? Those look fun! If I was a girl I would wear exclusively summer dresses and rompers, because this hourglass body dream you have? Not gonna happen.
So this summer, when you are trying to decide how to mummify your hair, or make an explosive fashion statement just remember, most people are looking at your face for a pretty smile and simple never goes out of style.
Friday, June 13, 2014
I have not been honest with all of you. This whole time I have been masquerading as a guy who is good at drinking and average at getting girls to come home with him once before realizing they’ve made a terrible mistake. But the truth is I’m a superhero, or mutant rather for I have no heroic qualities, just a specific power.
I can read minds.
Seriously! I can read minds, and that helps me predict human behavior and at times, see the future. Here’s a freebie…
There is a show premiering this Fall on ABC called Blackish. It will fail spectacularly. Do you know why? Well because the writing is bad. And it stars tv ratings kryptonite Anthony Anderson. (That motherfucker got Law and Order cancelled)
But beyond that. If the writing were spectacular and the show about race starred a talented African American thespian like Idris Elba, it would still fail. Do you know why? Because I have used my special powers to read the minds of America and they give an overwhelming “MEH” to diversity based programming. But it’s a unique play that should get the ABC chairman a pat on the back for trying. To be honest, it’s genius. Disney can’t fire Ben Sherwood if all three of his diversity driven shows tank this season. Can you imagine the outrage against the Mouse? It would be much easier to can him if he greenlights 5 Modern Family spin-offs and none of them catch on. He has a Hollywood buzzword to hide behind, thus when his network falls to 4th place, his job will be safe. Bravo sir.
So that may have been more of an inside baseball Hollywood rant. Let me try again to show my powers.
You all use Instagram right? Take pictures of sunsets and shit and hope to be validated by the “likes” of your peers? Social Media has become so much a part of the mainstream that there is a fucking show debuting this Fall called “Selfie” (also on ABC, also fucked) Instagram, Facebook, Twitter, we have begun to develop a sense of worth based on perceived recognition. There is a science behind this though. My blog doesn't get many likes because it's a guilty pleasure, people don't want to stamp their approval on the things I say (but I see my numbers, it's ok your secret is safe with me) However, certain things are more inclined to get you more reach. I like to do a bit more of a deep dive on what causes people to double tap certain photos while completely ignoring others and completely devaluing your personal sense of worth. So let’s get right to it…
The Auto Like – God Bless the autoliker. You know this guy, he scrolls through his instagram feed and likes fucking everything. He is like Vince Vaughn in Swingers telling you “you’re so fucking money baby, you don’t even know it.” Do you know why he does this? Because he is not self-righteous enough to assess value to his likes. He just wants you to know that he supports you, whatever you’re doing. If you take a shitty picture and are looking at the pathetic possibility of a NO LIKE PHOTO, autoliker has your back. We all need an autoliker in our lives.
The New Friend Like – Meeting someone new is always exciting. And while we used to be content to ask for a number and then quickly divulge into a relationship of dick pics and late night “What’s up?” Now there is a new awkward stage, trading social media handles.
Me: Ya, it’s my first and last name but you sub in BRO. No I know it’s really embarrassing, it’s from like 2012, ya I know that isn’t that long ago…whatever. Well I can’t change it because then people wouldn’t be able to tag me…Ok, there we go now following PLLfan2015
So now the polite thing to do is to like the next photo of theirs that you see. It’s like a phone call or text message the day after sex. And of course if things don’t work out you can wait a few weeks until it’s not obvious and then a subtle unfollow or this can lead into the...
The New Girl Like – Ok so things went well with the new “friend” now you’re flirting a little bit. She likes an old photo of yours…what does this mean? It means you are being vetted. Obviously she had judged your entire personality on your photo stream (and potentially your popularity) she’s not creeping, she wants you to know she’s looking into you. If you’re serious about this chick you may want to take down the cocaine pictures you still have up from 2011.
The Ex Like – So you showed up to a date with your chick rolling on ecstasy and she broke up with you because you refuse to grow up. It happens, we’ve all been there. But then she randomly shows up on your feed as someone that liked your sunset photo. What does this mean? It depends on the context. If you took a badass shot of the sunset off the Santa Monica Pier, it means maybe she thought it was an awesome photo and the like is an olive branch. If you took that sunset shot last week, maybe it means she misses you. If you took that sunset shot last week…and you and your new chick are in frame…well she’s just fucking with you.
The Vacation Like – Vacation likes are a game of cat and mouse. Like two women who compete over having the nicest house, most successful husband or prettiest baby. By posting a vacation photo you are basically saying, look how much more fun I am having than you now, I have the means, sense of adventure and ambition to be riding a fucking elephant in India right now, whereas you are at work on a Tuesday and masturbated in the shower this morning…poorly! BUTTTTT…you have to pretend to be happy for that person, it’s like Game of Thrones, nothing is at is seems. The only time I will empathetically “like” someone’s vacation pic is if it is somewhere badass that I have been, and I am genuinely excited for them to discover it. Or if someone is at a music festival seeing Haim, I’m fucking pumped for you. But if you’re just going to Aruba to bang your girlfriend for 2 weeks fuck you and those stupid stingrays that you’re swimming with.
The #FoodPorn Like – Same as vacation. A bunch of self-proclaimed “foodies” will like your photo if you are somewhere that they have been, even though essentially any time you post a food pic you are essentially saying “look at this fucking lobster HOW IS YOUR EASY MAC BRO” That said, I will like any photo of a rare steak, or anyone that goes to Portillo’s. If you ate a rare steak at Portillo’s I would probably create a second account so I could like it twice.
AWWWWW – Look at my new niece! Look at my new dog! Look at this new dress I bought! Sadly I don’t know who likes these or why. I can’t imagine anyone encouraging this type of behavior. Well, I mean except for the dogs and cats…I would never give a homeless person a penny but if I ever have a chance to help a cute animal in need, game over. I value animals over humanity.
ACTIVE Lifestyle like- I for one genuinely appreciate people bettering themselves. We live in a badass world and I think everyone should spend as much time as they can, exploring it. THAT SAID. You know what most of your hungover friends are thinking on Sunday morning when you post your 5k time? Click here if you don't see a video below
The Movie – Hahahaha you think in this Adderall attention span era people are going to watch your instagram videos? People don’t even wait for gifs to load anymore.
Life >>>> All chippy bitterness aside, there are a lot of cool things going on in the world. Discovering a new brewery? Catching a big ass fish? Accidentally lighting yourself on fire whilst trying to grill burgers? This is what it’s all about, and if Instagram exists to capture those little slices of life, I will gladly take a peek into your lives while I’m sitting on the porcelain throne or in a conversation with someone boring at work. I use it as inspiration.
I once was at a hostel in New Orleans drinking a pint with an Aussie. He asked me if I wanted to ride in the back of a pick-up with him to Houston.
“No, I have to get back to work tomorrow.”
“No you don’t mate, you don’t have to do anything. If you don’t show up to work tomorrow, your boss might be pissed, you might lose your job, but we’ll get new jobs cleaning boats or something, and then when we get enough money, we’ll buy flights to New Zealand and pick cherries or something until we decide what we want to do next.”
That’s the way to live…I bet that dude gets a ton of instagram likes, and doesn’t even overly rely on hash tags.
Wednesday, June 4, 2014
There has been a can of Old Milwaukee NA in my refrigerator since March 2nd. March 2nd was the date of this year’s Academy Awards ceremony. I had a party, it was fun. We made buffalo dip, drank red wine and half of my guests laid on a mattress that I threw on the floor for additional seating. It was a classy affair.
One of the guys that showed up at my soiree was in town on vacation, visiting a mutual friend. I was of course perplexed when he arrived with a case of non-alcoholic beer, especially Old Milwaukee. He simply justified it by saying “I’m not really drinking right now, but you gotta have beer.”
This whole time that rogue OM NA has been sitting in my fridge (yes he knocked back 11 non-alcoholic beers during the broadcast) I have been unable to figure out what that was all about. I’ve always thought people that didn’t drink were extremely weird and/or suffocatingly self-righteous. “Oh you don’t have to get fucked up to have a good time.” Insert Christian Bale “OHHHHHH GOOOOD FOR YOU”
So here is the deal. I’ve had a few things lately that did not go the way I wanted to. These were things largely outside my control, so I have a choice. I can wallow in my own misery about how the world has seemingly conspired against me, or I can do something about it.
I chose action. Sometimes you need to do something to shake things up a bit, grab a fresh perspective so for the month of June (well I technically drank during game 7, and this challenge is ending June 28th…but DETAILS) I am going to stop drinking.
This is not a plea for recognition nor an indictment on hard boozing. I’ve had some of the best times of my life whilst in the midst of a long bender. I know this is something people do all the time to zero fanfare, but it’s just something that I want to do right now, and this will help me be accountable. And whatever, you guys come here to read about my life, and this is what’s happening right now.
I haven’t given anything up since Kindergarten. I gave up playing video games for lent and then on the second to last day I went to Jason Gordon’s 5th birthday party and broke the fast by playing Turtles in Time. (A somewhat justifiable action) During that time I have done things and stopped. Trust me, if it’s bad for you, I did it for a while, but this will be the first time that I am really stepping outside my comfort zone.
I probably haven’t gone a week without booze in 10 years. I don’t know if that is pathetic or inevitable, it’s not like I necessarily got bombed every night. But when I look back I don’t see any prolonged illness or injury that would have prevented me from drinking, so I just assume I did.
The problem I am trying to correct is with my life outlook. In the past whenever anything shitty has happened, I think to myself, whatever, if I can just make it to Friday, I will be surrounded by friends and I can have fun. Looking forward to Friday is fine for now I suppose, but it’s also a good way to watch life pass you by, while my piers are out making their dreams come true, I’m crawling by to the next party. Where this inevitably leads is being 30 with not a whole lot of future prospects, and all your friends have left the party for something more substantial.
I’ve been dancing through life like a wannabe Fyerro for too long, and it’s time to do something about it. Perhaps the month of June is not an ideal time to start such an undertaking, but I suppose nervous breakdowns don’t always conveniently come in February. Here’s the thing, it’s LA, it’s beautiful every day, and I would argue this will give me a chance to enjoy my surroundings as opposed to waking up every Saturday and running to a pub.
But moreover, I have a plan! In the next 28 days I will knock out a feature and a new half hour sit-com. The feature is an action comedy about a terrorist taking over the Universal Studios lot, and the new pilot will probably borrow a lot from what I will go through in the coming weeks. Also, my wrist is better, I’m going to bike and surf and run a shit ton, who knows, maybe I’ll slightly improve my overall health.
I tried to change my image a few months back, but my motivation was suspect. I was trying to change myself to impress a girl. And it worked…for a while. It wasn’t long until I was exposed as a fraud and the whole house of cards fell apart. See the thing is, you can’t change yourself unless you want to. You can’t change how people feel about you, and your circumstances probably won’t change if you just sit around and wait for the universe to do you a favor.
I may crash and burn by this coming Saturday and all of the people that have every doubted me will be proven right to a certain extent, or maybe I won’t. Somewhere along the way I lost faith in myself, and I don’t know why. I used to shit on people that didn’t make it into the business school at IU, let alone a bunch of chumps that went to directional schools and satellite campuses. I’m a fucking killer, I’m still better than all those punks and it’s just a matter of time before I rise to the top again. I relied on the wrong people and that’s what it took for me to realize that I have to actively participate in my life, do not pass the ball as the shot clock counts down, knock the fucking three down at the buzzer.
And June 28th, I will drink several gallons of vodka on the way to Santa Anita…or maybe I won’t. Maybe I’ll have a few beers or maybe I’ll just go for the good company.
And if you’re around this month and want to do something awesome, please hit me up. Just remember to bring the NAs.
Oh shit. It’s real now.