I took some molly Saturday night.
I didn't plan on it. I didn't wake up Saturday and think, OMG the day is finally here, I'm going to roll my balls of, oh happy day!
No, Saturday I rolled out of bed, walked home (ohhhhh shit buried the lede there) and proceeded to commence my hangover on the couch.
I dicked around, got some Chipotle planned my Euro trip and generally worried about the impeding Blackhawks game. At no point did I think, I should do some molly today.
Eventually I mustered the energy to walk to my second favorite Venice bar that would be closing the very next day. I was sad. I was nervous. I thought the Blackhawks might lose.
But then we drank 34 pitchers, the Blackhawks won and someone offered me a little mdma.
As if I even have the capacity of saying no.
What followed was a fairly mellow evening, I just kind of rode the wave of positive vibes, had a few beers at an apartment and chilled.
Except for the part where my friend called her boss and demanded that he buy me a flight to Mexico.
Ah yes, at some point during the evening a girl I have been friends with forever called her boss and basically read him the riot act.
"It's bullshit that girls with boyfriends get to bring them to Mexico this weekend."
Why do you have someone you want to bring?
"Ya, I have a boyfriend now...I'll text you his name."
Fast forward to Monday night I had a round trip ticket to Cabo san Lucas, a hotel room, all because of a schedule 1 amphetamine.
I spent all day Tuesday trying to come up with ways to skip out on work Monday. I'm not really in an industry where I can take a vacation day or even call in sick. If I don't pick up the raw footage in Burbank Monday morning and deliver it to our editors they stand around and make $90 an hour to do nothing. This would not sit well with any of the producers. And I didn't expect them to be sympathetic to my cause either with this "free" vacation. Because of weird production rules I make more money that most of the people in the office and since I've started this particular show I have gone on trips to Park City, Palm Springs, Coachella, Joshua Tree, Vegas and Lake Tahoe.
And now I was about to go get drunk in Mexico while the rest of them saved their money for shit like valley mortgages and Honest Company diapers.
I decided my best course of action was to pay some random kid $100 to do my job for the morning, beg my boss to say yes and take it from there. I was so nervous she would deny me I put together a powerpoint presentation outlining my proposal and then I got the following text.
Mexico is off, Cat 5 Hurricane coming.
Wait what?
Is it even hurricane season right now? Hurricanes hit Mexico? Can't we just risk it? What kind of GDI hurricane goes after a resort town. Go somewhere unimportant like Honduras.
Nope, hotel cancelled our res, they're shutting down entirely.
I did a little digging and hurricanes do in fact hit Mexico. Just last fall Cabo was destroyed by a category 4 storm. Many of the hotels JUST reopened for the summer and now they are about to get slammed again. The following is what my weekend could have looked like if it weren't for Hurricane Blanca, the cuntiest of tropical storms...
Friday night-
Around 5:30pm I would have put on my straw hat. Wearing a straw hat tells people you mean business, it says 'I'm ready to party, I'm clearly only here because you miserable cunts haven't released me yet.' Wearing the straw hat makes people feel shitty about their impending mediocre weekend and will likely get you sent home quicker because they do not want a constant reminder of their inferiority.
Next stop Gate 4. American. Like me. You know what Gate 4 has? A fucking lemonade. You know what else it has? A rock n roll themed terminal bar that blasts 80's music and serves tall Goose Island IPAs. I'll have 4 please.
On the airplane. Business class (sure my tickets are coach, but when you're with a platinum member there is always a chance) I did some quick math (I will not show my work) and I deduced that I could knock back six margaritas in the 2 hr 40 min flight time. We land at 11:40 and the hotel is about 30 minutes from the airport, this seems like a hotel party night...
...and hotel party it is. Some hero called ahead and had 10 cases of Sol sent to his room. He puts the new Haim and Calvin Harris song on repeat. Omg, I have a bromance on this guy. He's so cool. Must be a Tau. This is just like a formal, except it's international and now I'm 28. Wasn't the main theme of Gatsby you can't relive the past? Why of course you can old sport.
But instead...
At 7pm my boss sends me to Hollywood, only to call me when I'm halfway there and reroute me to San Pedro...wait did I say San Pedro? I meant Northridge. I finally get home from work at 11pm. I try to go see the Entourage movie by myself at 1140pm at the ArcLight Beach Cities. It's sold out. I end up going home to jerk off. But my Ukranian cleaning guy walks in on me and makes eye contact. He now owns my soul. What the fuck was he doing cleaning my apartment on a Friday at midnight? He thought I was in Mexico and Sarah was at Bungalow. A perfect time to clean.
Fuck hurricanes.
Saturday:
My cool new ATO friend knocks on my door at atound 1030am. He gives me a Corona and an Adderall. 'We're heading to the beach to play a little volleyball. The chicks are going to get henna tattoos or some shit. After a couple hours of quality Top Gun-esque volley, we go join the chicks for a 2 hr sashimi lunch. The guy in charge of our group, wanting to show off, throws down his American Express card and screams something like 'fuck it, I'm drowning in points' we head down the way to another resort that offers surf rentals. We're all hammered but we decide, 'fuck it, why not.'
While on the water struggling to even stay on my board I see a bunch of my friends. Wait...wait. What are you guys doing here? There's a wedding this weekend? An IU wedding? An Alpha Phi wedding? We make plans to meet at Squid Roe later that night and get into some extreme trouble.
Back at our resort, someone has acquired a 12 pack of Smirnoff Ice. The hot tub is in full effect. We decide to bypass dinner in favor of drinking more. Someone decides that a series of cabs will not do for transportation into town and orders a Hummer limo. We dance at Squid Roe until 2 in the morning and then I go to the walk-thru Burger King and order one of everything on the menu. I then decide to take a piss outside and get caught by a federale. But he takes a 5 piece nugget as a bribe and sends me on my way.
But instead...
Feeling super pissed off about not going to Mexico and wanting to do something similarly epic, I pay $500 for scuba diving lessons. The first day goes ok. Afterward I decide to go to the Dodgers/Cardinals game. The Cardinals get beat 22-0, I get a DUI on the way home and contract a rare skin disease.
Fuck hurricanes.
Sunday:
We have so much fun with the wedding party Saturday night that they invite us to the wedding on Sunday. After the wedding, party buses take us to Nowhere Bar for the reception. While at Nowhere Bar we meet Rob Gronkowski who invites us onto a star studded yacht party in the marina. We take the boat out and sip very dry martinis. Leo is there. We become good friends. We exchange numbers. He asks me if I want to come to Italy with him, I tell him I can't go because I have to get back to work tomorrow. He asks me how much I would stand to lose by getting fired. I tell him $10,000. He hands me $9,000 in cash and a $1,000 chip to Le Casino in Monte Carlo. "I guess we'll have to swing through the French Riviera as well."
Leo and I stay in Europe with his entourage until July and then we hit up Yacht Week before coming back to LA for Burning Man. Afterward he puts me in touch with his dentist and his personal trainer, I get a new set of veneers and a six pack and we go on to star in a buddy comedy about playboys traveling the world doing molly. My dream of fame is complete.
But instead...
I wake up in jail and do not get released until 10am. I miss day two of my scuba appointment and lose all of my money. Dejected, I swear off drugs and alcohol forever. I decide to hike the Bridge to Nowhere out in Asuza so I can bungee jump. Bungee jumping is epic right? The weekend won't be a total waste. I'll tell my coworkers I jumped off a bridge on Monday. That will make them understand I have a better life than them right? Moments before I jump I look into my iPhone and say "The only law that matters is gravity." I then fall backward. It looks really cool.
But then my line snaps and I splat on a jagged rock and die.
Fuck hurricanes.
Fuck the Miami Hurricanes.
Fuck this guy. (It's close)
Fuck the color white. Fuck Walter White.
Fuck the character Bianca from 10 things I hate about you. (Bianca looks like Blanca is you accidentally capitalize the i)
I could have met Leo and become famous.
Hurricanes are the worst. Watch this piece of shit not even make landfall.
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