A Cinderella story

Today a departure from my tales of debaucherous antics and discussion of all things fun to focus on March Madness and what the real meaning of it all is. If you are anything like me, you picked a lot of the favorites and picked a few upsets based on absolutely no knowledge of the sport and now your bracket is inexplicably fucked. A few people picked the Morehead state upset because it is synonymous with oral sex and a few people picked Richmond because on the day they filled out their bracket they listened to one guy on AM radio say it was a good pick. No one probably picked a bunch of scrubby juco guys from Marquette or a bunch of white farmboys from Indianapolis...and why would you? They look like shit on paper. Butler had a bad regular season, lost their star player from a year ago and their live bulldog mascot isn't allowed to come to tournament games. Marquette's 4 juco players didn't go to large glossy programs because they probably come from broken homes or played at schools that didn't gain them national exposure or they were flat out retarded.

You look at the rich traditions of the big schools who apparently have it all together: Louisville, Syracuse, Pitt, Purdue all outstanding teams that are well coached with superior talent to the mid majors. Of course we pick them, they are supposed to win. These are the high school captains of the state championship team, the trust fund babies that you grew up with and loved going over to their house because they had a pool and an indoor basketball court. These are the kids that your parents tell you to associate with when you're growing up, they had everything going for them but for some reason they dropped the ball.

March is crazy, everyone loves a Cindarella story. Unless you are a Pitt grad, the entire world was pulling for the underdog Saturday night. There is no way that anyone could have predicted that finish. Pitt was supposed to win, they had it won...but they tripped over destiny on their way. Sometimes things happen for a reason and no one can explain why? How are two shitty schools from Richmond, one of which is coached by some guy named Shaka in the sweet 16, playing eachother? Last time I knew a shocker his name was "Silkk the" and he's in jail. Do you care anymore about your bracket? Is the $50 you are going to win in your office pool if Duke beats Kansas enough for you to sell your soul?

I used to cheer for the bad guys. I wanted the mouse in "Mouse Hunt" to die, I thought that Ralph Macchio was a pussy and should have gotten his ass kicked...I don't know maybe I thought I was one of those "golden child" types that would go play at Duke. Something happened along the way though and now I'm in the corner of the underdog. I literally stood and cheered and chugged beer as I watched my bracket catch flame as Notre Dame fell apart Sunday night. (Not to say that anyone should ever root for Notre Dame) And even if you went to evil empire hq Purdue how can you not be a little excited for the Virginia Commonwealth team that every expert trashed on selection Sunday saying "they didn't belong." I don't get told that I don't belong that often, but I realize that like these little guys I am flawed on paper, I'm much more of an underdog now than I ever thought I would be...and just because some evil fuck like Duke will pass over me for promotions some day or a Jayhawk will get the girl that I want, doesn't mean I give up hope.

March Madness is in the air and literally anything can happen, and while my Butlers and Jimmers may not lift that trophy during "One Shining Moment," I'm sure as shit that it won't be some fuck named Hummel.

Kanerade

Are you a professional athlete that lives to compete? Do you agonize in every loss and cherish every win as if it could be your last? Are you looking for a supplement to give you a cutting edge when you are on the court but turn your adrenaline into near alcohol poisoning the second the final bell rings? Look no further, Kanerade the Sports drink that metabolizes all of your extra energy into aggression for one last late game push, amping you up for late game heroics and then releases into your blood stream immediately thereafter causing a euphoric feeling so you can truly party like a rockstar! The patent mixture of Caffeine, vitamin B12 and compound c17h21NO4 is proven, just ask spokesman Patrick Kane?

Patrick Kane- "Kanerade is pretty much the best stuff in the planet. Last night I scored my 100th goal then went to District until 5 in the morning, drank an entire Jagerator and convinced 3 girls to play Magical chairs with my dick."

Kanerade isn't just for professional athletes. It's effects can be used after a spat of day drinking with friends to perk up for the night's activities. Before a trivial philisophical debate with an old friend, or for someone trying to save money at dinner by drinking only!

(voice gets very fast) Kanerademaycauseseveralhealthproblemsincludingfeelingsofnauseachestpainsandpossiblyanexplodingheart.

(Rich beautiful people drink Kanerade over a montage of smiles and success)

Drink the sports drink of the rich and famous! Kanerade at a local street corner now near you!!!


****

I was going to just do that whole bit as an intro to why Patrick Kane and all of hockey is badass but I got carried away and turned it into a pretty lame parody SNL commercial.

Another 48 hours

I was under the impression that as I grew older, I would eventually become immune to the effects of alcohol. Everyone knows a story about some alcoholic that can kill a bottle of whiskey by noon, and still somehow be even keel. (not that I aspire to be that way, but whatever) On the contrary my alcoholic tolerance peaked right around the Spring of my Senior year. Presumably this is because when you go out 5-6 nights a week for 4 years straight and average on a pretty hard night 25-30 drinks, one would build up a pretty solid resistance to the "side-effects" if you will. In college I never woke up with hangovers, never took a night off and pretty consistently made it to class. I wouldn't even do anything in class other than text people and play brickbreaker but I'm convinced that all you have to do to achieve moderate success in college is just show up. That's neither here nor there though, what I want to discuss today is the phenomenon of the 48 hour hangover.

It's not like I stopped drinking when I graduated. I pretty much did nothing for the next 6 months but drink. Even when I was forced to get a job and moved here I had about a 12 month honeymoon phase that had me going strong wednesday-sunday. But right around the time I turned 23 it started getting harder. Shots didn't go down as easy as they once did. 3 morning cups of coffee turned into 13. I have spent 4 of my sick days the past 12 months on Mondays following an epic Saturday binge. I almost did it today after passing out at about 7pm. What is happening to me? I used to fly to vegas for the weekend and drive straight to work after rocking the Sunday night red-eye. These aren't your average "omg my head hurts" these are like I have a small bomb in my brain that was just detonated, my eyes are melting from the inside out and someone is performing Chinese water torture on my neck, KILL ME NOW. I just wanted to write a short 500 words today to let you know that I'm not invincible. I sat on the couch for 12 hours yesterday without moving. I watched all of Season 1 of the Wire and drank 6 gallons of water without eating once. Today I physically couldn't operate at work. I simply walked back and forth from the coffee pot, to my desk. Thankfully I am about 1 hour from the time I stopped drinking on Saturday. Another 48 hours has come and gone. Looks like I could be ready for trivia night tomorrow after all.

Green with envy

It has already started. Those little shitheads that are still in paradise are taking a vacation from their current vacation (college is a vacation) to go to Mexico or some other moderately safe place to blow stacks and stacks of their parents' loot. If you actually had to pay for college and therefore went home and "relaxed" aka cried about missing out on fun because daddy couldn't get any overtime at the factory I cannot relate to you. Well I couldn't until now. FUCK am I jealous. The only thing that gets me through a work week is the combination of Facebook and twitter. Now all I am going to read are snarky ass tweets from all thos kids on vacation. "10AM blacked out on the beach, thanks for spending 3gs so I can hang out with all my friends in Mexico dad." Fuck you it's 10AM I just had my 3rd cup of coffee and finished my tater tots, the highlight of my day.

Then there will be the crazy roadtrip down to Daytona with 4 frat guys and a brick of weed, you'll get a bunch of twitpics and wall posts about trannys and blowjobs and live action urine all crazy horrible stuff that I actually miss. I lived for Spring Break, I went on Spring Break every year from 3 until now and I can recount every single one of them...ok 3-12 were Disney World, my dad isn't really known for his creative trip planning. But they were all totally bad ass and I can think of great stories from all of them. They always include near arrests, violence, shameful hookups and a D list rapper performing at a shitty night club. The only thing I can take solace in is the fact that while all these children are taking their crew to some sort of exotic location in the world, myself and my carefully selected elitists from top tier Greek organizations of Indiana University that moved to Chicago and literally like 4 others that were lucky to get added have St. Patty's Day.

BOOM! Green with Envy, see what I did there? God dammit I should get paid to write.

I am seriously considering staying in tonight. I did it last Friday and then ripped a 24 hour drinking binge Saturday which was nothing short of incredible. Realistically I could order Chinese food tonight watch 5 episodes of the Wire go to sleep, wake up and go to a bar for 23 hours tomorrow.

Fun Fact: Because of the time change Mcfaddens will be staying open until 6am and they are open at 7am...the hour of 2 o clock wont actually ever happen, but if you pull a 22 hour open to close, I will build a shrine to you.

Alas, I will be pregame hopping (I hate the term house party because it associates with GDI's. Indiana has pitch-ins Illinois has pot lucks. Gdis have house parties we have pregames.) From probably 7am to around 11ish. I probably won't have fun at any of them because I will be so worried about getting to the next party as not to offend anyone, so fuck you all for not coordinating this better. But what I will do is get extremely intoxicated on vodka and orange juice...I might even get drunk enough to give bacon a second shot. After the soggy bacon incident of 2006 I swore it off forever, but I'm a forgiving guy.

Anyway, what's the play tomorrow? Go to the parade? Watch the river dye green? Bars...hubbard, division, wrigley?

You really can't go wrong drinking ever anywhere. I could sit in a basement with skunked Keystones and rats and I would have a generally decent time, but my reccomendation would be to get as close to the action as possible. Wrigley is good for Cubs games, TBOX and Beadfest...the parade it for children, and why see a river dyed green when they are pouring you green beers at Butch McGuire's. You may even run into a New Trier grad there! I swear to god I am going to start having unprotected sex with every girl I bring home from there on the probability that she is a rich girl from Kenilworth and knocking her up will force her dad to give me a better job.

So there you have it, stay up as late as you can and meet me at Nookies 2 at 6am. I'll hide a case in that alley early in the night and we can drink there for the last hour to make it the full 24. Bet you clowns didn't even know Nooks was byob.

Exit Through the Thrift Shop

Nope I'm not sending you to boystown to get some "fabulous new threads" at the Hollywood Mirror. I am going to draw an extended metaphor to how pregaming effectively can save you a lot of money while boozing in Chicago...also I wanted to let it be known that it isn't THAT hard to come up with a whitty title to a Gossip Girl episode (If you haven't noticed they are all a play on words on some work of lit, tv, movies etc.)

Last night a friend reccomends trivia at State. It's an outstanding venue for team trivia, and it's a chance for people like me that sit around reading blogs all day and playing sporcle, to flex some of their mental floss. Unfortunately the owner of State is a greedy cunt and doesn't believe in Tuesday specials because he knows the unattainable $1000 top prize is enough to draw the most Ken Jenningsest pub trivia players in the greater Chicagoland area. Thus $5 bud light bottles and $13 pitchers. Also the Tuesday policy is no split tabs, as if the Depaul students and twentysomethings will be fighting over the check when it comes. 90% of them will be walking to the bathroom and hoping it "gets figured out."

A rational group will decide to evenly split the tab at the end of the night and get a bunch of pitchers, the problem is...a pitcher holds like 3 1/3 beers each. So the trick is to drink as much of the community beer without appearing to drink more than your fair share. The only thing worse than not being able to get drunk at a bar without dropping a c-note is being labeled as "that guy" at the trivia table. Usually I am given a pass on this because I am undoubtedly our star player and well, you wouldn't yell at Derek Rose for taking the last gatorade.

Pro tip: constantly keep your glass full, when it is 1/3 empty top yourself off...this way you never appear to be sucking down beers at collegiate speeds.

Or...you can disregard everything I have said so far and do the single most effective partying technique for anyone under 30. Pregame effectively.

Lately, before I go to any drinking establishment, 10 shots or 2 four lokos before I walk out of the house are an absolute minimum. I use those because they are quick and effective. If you aren't behind the 8 ball cocktails are a good solution too, but there is nothing better than the adrenaline rush that accompanies a few lightning rounds of pass the handle. Now I know what you're thinking, 10 shots is kind of a lot, especially in 20 minutes. First of all, you are a pussy, leave my blog. Second of all, that's the point; to be completely shithoused and not wake up in the morning with buyers remorse. If you see the guy who is desperately chugging the last sips of vodka before he heads out to Beaumonts on a Saturday and call him pathetic, you are the fool. He is a smart consumer, and he is going to buy those new Sperry's at Nordstrom tomorrow because he dodn't have to spend an additional 60 bucks to get properly blacked out upon arrival. He was already tounge deep in a Freshman on the dance floor, while you were akwardly buying rounds of shots because you didn't know how to handle that lair of sin with a semi-clear mind.

So...this Saturday is unofficial St. Patty's Day in Chicago (Fuck you U of I don't start with me, your campus looks like a full toilet bowl that was just victim to a 40 minute stall session of Angry Birds, streaks and all) Conventional wisdom would tell you to go downtown really early, go to a bar, drink green beer, see the river dyed...wrong wrong WRONG. Go to a pregame at 7 am with all your friends, take an unsocial ammount of drinks, do things that you couldnt do at most bars i.e. shotgun beers, lay a seed with the girl you later want to fuck, and when you think that if you take one more drink you won't be able to remember your own name...go to Division St. You'll have plenty of time to act a fool once you get there. You are going to need that extra cash to grease the door guy when he tosses you out for public urination...or to hand your slam piece for a cab ride home in the morning.

Stay tuned for a more detailed blog about St. Patty's day, but just remember, drinking an entire fifth before you go out is not anti-social and stupid, it is just Fiscal conservatism at its finest.

Mardi Gras

We'll get this out of the way up front and early. I have never been to New Orleans, I'm sure it is infinitely better and I am a huge pussy for never having been. But at least St. Louis can handle some fucking rain. Like honestly I don't understand how a "flood" could ever endanger someone. I understand that it would suck to have your shit destroyed, but if you didn't grow up taking swimming lessons at your local country club, you probably deserve to drown anyway.

Anyway, 5 years ago when there was a bad thunderstorm in Louisiana and George Bush declared his hatred of black people to Kanye West, St. Louis decided to pick up the torch and have a Mardi Gras celebration. I stayed at SLU last year with a friend and we woke up at 6am, went to a bar for kegs and eggs and got bussed to and from the district in which the festivities take place. The parade is really nothing special, the whole day is just kind of like Chicago's Beadquest bar crawl with more sluts and about 10,000 more people.

The drive to St. Louis may be the only thing worse than the drive through Ohio, if you are from Indiana and any surly Chicago fuck ever gives you shit for being born in a cornfield, tell that asshat to take a hike down 55 and treat himself to a glass of shut the fuck up. The horrid stretch of misery that is Central and Southern Illinois will put a driver to sleep. (Although whatever river that Springfield resides on looks like it could be fun to visit maybe once, it looks like a good river for drinking)

I have a horrible problem of sleepwalking when I get ragingly drunk in an unfamiliar place. I know it sounds weird, but it is an extremely serious problem. I have woken up in boxers in socks in all corners of the world including Barcelona, Munich, Jim Shiel's mom's closet and St. Louis. Needless to say last year was a bad one. I came to on the SLU soccer field more or less naked at 4am. Fortunately for me, the bars were opening at 5 and a college campus is understanding to the whole black out and sleepwalk think. Also because the guy that I was staying with was cool (pro tip: only surround yourself with other extremely popular people) the peeps at the bar knew where he lived. I had been in his apt long enough to drop my shit off, I didn't recall where it was. Thus, I was able to return home, brush my teeth and put on pants and grabbed a handful of plastic colored necklaces to taunt 19 year old girls to show me their boobs. (This never works, you will see a pregnant 42 year olds drooping chest and thats about it...unless you are with Paul Bird who can convince two twins to scissor on camera for beads)

I would make a strong recomendation to go hard early because if you don't down 15-20 screwdrivers before you get to the bar district at 10am its going to be a $200 day. $8 a drink, and if you don't know how to pull tail without buying girls and their friends shots, it could be more like a $400 day. (Obviously you should only approach a girl that looks to have seperated from her friends with a full drink)

A few random notes from my experience last year
-Dress up, if you don't you will look like a douche. I wore a yellow polo pullover and felt completely inadequate. I bet I felt like how fat people feel day in and day out, if they could just lose 20 pounds everything would be so much better...like if I would have been wearing a purple feathery boa and a mask.

-Charge your phones. Sounds like a no-brainer but if you are on a 12 hour bar crawl you need all the battery you can hack. This means no telling your friends back home ho much fun you are having, no calling your significant other you miss them. Fuck them, they didn't come. People that call people on their adventures to tell them how much fun they are having, are not really having a good time. You wandered off alone to call some1 because you are bored and no one is talking to you. I lost my roommate last year, and if it were not for him trading batteries with a comatose person with a similar phone, I doubt he would have ever been found.

-Pill up son. You will need your stimulant of choice be it rockstar, 5 hour, loko, adderall...it's a long day with lots of drinking. You don't want to be the assclown that makes your entire party go home because you can't stay awake at a bar. If this happens to someone in your group, I would find it perfectly acceptable to hide their body somewhere safe while they sleep it off and you continue to have a good time.

-Just say fuck it. Mardi Gras is a celebration of hedonistic pleasures. No one cares about your boyfriend, wife, kids. They want to know how drunk they can get, maintain a pulse and if you are in fact DTF. Go in with an open attitude and treat it like a weekend in Vegas, just a lot colder and with no gambling. But if you really go to Vegas for the sun and the gambling, you're in the wrong place. You can visit one of Michael Vick's properties in Virginia for sun and gambling.

I'll be there again this year, hope to party with you if you will be making the trip likewise. Bring some madlibs and a Game Boy Color for the car ride, or if you are the passenger like me, just bring a case of beer and some empty plastic bottles to fill.

March Madness

My God Charlie Sheen please don't ever stop. You are singlehandedly validating everything I believe in. If you are a big enough asshole my pathetic culture will respond, because there is a frat boy in all of us that wants to praise you as a king.

While I have no plans on actually bowing down to a mediocre 45 year old actor. I find it extremely interesting that Charlie Sheen has captivated our nation. We are hanging on every single word he says like it will bring some new enlightenment upon us. The pathetic thing is, he's right. He does a ton of blow, fucked Denise Richards for about as long as one can plug a supermodel before inevitably getting bored with her, now he's in the Bahamas with 2 porn stars probably shooting remakes to 2 girls one cup while he puppeteers the entire internet. The reason why we are so obsessed with this story is we are jealous and bored. I live a boring life compared to Charlie Sheen, and so do you. He is entertaining, he is rich and he doesn't give a fuck about what you think. And should he? The guy has made a career of of unapologetically partying his ass off and look at what he has done the past 24 hours. He gained 100,000 twitter followers in about 20 minutes without saying a thing, a re-run episode of his hit show Two and a Half Men won the ratings race Monday night, beating the 2nd to last episode of this season's The Bachelor. Every single media outlet is talking about him, sound boards are popping up everywhere so mindless drones of corporate America (such as myself) can make 5 oclock show up that much quicker. The guy is a fucking genius and if he does die in the next few weeks, he will be immortalized in awesome, going out at the top of his game. A bunch of "concerned" public will rant and rave about how he shouldn't be rewarded and Psychologists will talk about his addiction spiraling out of control, but this is just a projection of their envy they live with because they play by the rules and aren't rich and famous.

Enough of that, how great is it that it is finally March. I almost had a beer at lunch today it was so nice out. The Hawks and Bulls are kicking ass, we get more than 4 hours of sunlight and best of all female eating disorders are about to kick in hard core in favor of beach bodies. I may sit outside tonight, cook a steak, read Glass Castle and drink a beer I'm so excited. March is a bit of a cocktease of a month but it symbolizes a light at the end of the tunnel. Spring is officially less than 3 weeks away. Which means softball and volleyball and rollerblading along the beach are 3 weeks away. Flip flops, Monday night blackouts and all the guys dumping their hibernation girlfriend are 3 weeks away. LOVE.

This weekend I'm going to St. Louis for Mardi Gras, where I will revert to "14 year old in Panama City Beach" status and unabbashedly throw beads at chicks and demand to see tits. It's going to be fantastic, I will probably end up making out with someone or something adn getting into a bar fight, it's the little things that count.

*Quick side story*
Last year after ging to Sullard (sp?) for the parade and daytime barcrawling, I made it back to the SLU campus and decided that I MUST go bowling. Of course we were put in a lane next to a young couple on a first date. I proceeded to beligerantly toss my ball down their lane on accident and get a strike, while my roommate tried to pick up said girl on date. I can only imagine there was not a second date involved.

Anyway, after that ammount of lunacy I'm hoping I can ride out a hangover until about Thursday of the next week which is BAM you guessed it St. Patty's Day. Despite the fact that there are 2 parties that I have committed to at 7am that day I am going to clone myself so I can go to both and be Bi-Winning. And I'm thinking by the time we all wake up the following Sunday it will be basically spring right?

I have one speed, Go! I'll do a more detailed St. Louis blog later this week. See ya.