Is he even in the league anymore? Who knows, in other news last night I unlocked the "College" four square badge. I don't know if it can track my mannerisms and decided that based on the places I still go I am a college student, or if my pure awesomeness transferred through osmosis to the service and they decided to reward me with the honor. Regarless to say, I am humbled by the distinction.
HOLY FUCK...it is once again Friday afternoon and I am bouncing off the walls. It is St. Pattys day weekend and there is nothing like getting straight pissed Irish style for a 48 hour straight bender. I might go for the Gordie Howe hat trick this weekend...fight a gdi, wingman for a friend, and eventually score a goal of my own. SO what is the key to having an absolutely perfect St. Pattys day weekend you may ask? The good news for you is I am going to take 9 minutes of my time watching the new Lady Gaga music video.
And then I'll take 5 minutes and map out what to do this weekend. ***9 minutes passes***
Bam let's go! FIRST start off tonight. A lot of brohaters are going to "take it easy" tonight. The only thing that you should "take easy" are your interpretations of sevel public decency laws this weekend. After going to happy hour for 3 hours, it is time to go home and get thoroughly sauced. I might suggest 151, everclear, or blowfish fin sake...(don't ask on that last one)
After staying up until 4 in the morning and fighting a bouncer after getting kicked out of a byob strip club for pouring champagne somewhere that it doesn't belong, I reccomend going to a breakfast diner and carbo-loading. Then my next stop will probably be a 7/11 to buy an entire case of 5 hour energy. I am yet to determine whether or not multiple 5 hrs taken at once will compound upon each other or not. I suppose I will find out tonight if taking 50 will keep me energized for 48 hours.
...drunk tired sweaty bleeding...i don't care what kind of state you are in. Come 7am you best believe that I am taking a shot of Jameson, bonging a guiness, and bombing a car. (Not the popular drink, literally finding a random car and bombing it. The IRA would be proud.)
After racking up a handful of felonies before the time your Monday alarm usually goes off, it is time to get really serious. Meet up with your friends, go to a bar, dye your liquor green, whatever it is that you need to do in the AM do it. Talk with an Irish accent, wear obnoxious green pint glass sunglasses. You should then spend the next 12 hours acting like a McManus brother by drinking anything that you see, smoking a lot of cigarettes, and filling bad guys with lead. I would go on forever, but I literally am too excited and I can no longer type.
Happy St. Patty's Day.
P.s. It would be an acceptable action to call in sick Monday.
Friday, March 12, 2010
Friday, March 5, 2010
Friday at 4:46
Wow, this is the happiest time of the week. Always...aside from the fact that we graduated in a shitty job economy and therefore despite the fact that I studied at a top 20 business school I work in the suburbs instead of on the 72nd floor of a downtown skyscraper and therefore will spend the better part of my Friday night battling traffic...fuck it, I'm free.
Whether you ar going to happy hour right now, or meeting your drug dealer in an alley to get acid so you can "thoroughly" enjoy the Navy Pier Imax version of weirdo Tim Burton's Alice in Wonderland, you are planning on doing something awesome right now. It's 42 degrees, I might throw on some J Crew chino's why the fuck not? And oh yah, I have a ton of work to get done right now, and I'll be out of the office Monday and Tuesday...I am going to come back to a total shit storm here, I over promised and underdelivered all week. But do you think I take my work home with me or even worse, on vacation? Absolutely fucking not!
This brings us to the issue of me having a flight at 5 am, and the fact that I have made a firm commitment to drinking starting after immediately after I get off the tollway...I still have a 20 mile drive after that btw, but there are markedly more cops on the tolls than the regular freeway which is total bullshit, for the price of a BK double cheeseburger you should be able to drive as fast as you want on the damn tollway.
That said, I give myself about a 25% of packing for this trip, about a 40% chance of making my flight, and about a .08% chance of being sober enough to drive to the airport at 4 am...(HAHA GET IT .08 is the LEGAL LIMIT and its also a REALLY LOW NUMBER, I AM SO CLEVER!!!)
By far the douchiest part of that last aside was the triple exclamation points, in my opinion at least. Even though you may not be vacationing with celebrities this weekend on someone else's dime, you can still party like a rockstar. Drink a lot, spend a lot, stimulate the economy...Happy weekend, get yours!
Whether you ar going to happy hour right now, or meeting your drug dealer in an alley to get acid so you can "thoroughly" enjoy the Navy Pier Imax version of weirdo Tim Burton's Alice in Wonderland, you are planning on doing something awesome right now. It's 42 degrees, I might throw on some J Crew chino's why the fuck not? And oh yah, I have a ton of work to get done right now, and I'll be out of the office Monday and Tuesday...I am going to come back to a total shit storm here, I over promised and underdelivered all week. But do you think I take my work home with me or even worse, on vacation? Absolutely fucking not!
This brings us to the issue of me having a flight at 5 am, and the fact that I have made a firm commitment to drinking starting after immediately after I get off the tollway...I still have a 20 mile drive after that btw, but there are markedly more cops on the tolls than the regular freeway which is total bullshit, for the price of a BK double cheeseburger you should be able to drive as fast as you want on the damn tollway.
That said, I give myself about a 25% of packing for this trip, about a 40% chance of making my flight, and about a .08% chance of being sober enough to drive to the airport at 4 am...(HAHA GET IT .08 is the LEGAL LIMIT and its also a REALLY LOW NUMBER, I AM SO CLEVER!!!)
By far the douchiest part of that last aside was the triple exclamation points, in my opinion at least. Even though you may not be vacationing with celebrities this weekend on someone else's dime, you can still party like a rockstar. Drink a lot, spend a lot, stimulate the economy...Happy weekend, get yours!
Thursday, March 4, 2010
Your Blog Fucking Sucks
I don't give a shit about your kids or your amateur poetry. I don't want to see a picture of the Christmas tree that you spent hours decorating or the meal you prepared all afternoon. Oh, a post about a trend you've noticed in social media? Fuck you, you think your thoughts are relevant? You have an opinion on health care and global warming...great it doesn't fucking matter what you think, you are a peon...if life was Monopoly you are Baltic Avenue. Don't post links come on, really? An interview with the man who is revitalizing the Domestic auto market...you and me, we're fucking done. You know why? Your blog fucking sucks!
It's all horrifying. "My quest to eat nothing but unprocessed food for 6 months...o golly I don't know how I'll live without Qdoba!" That is the lame ass premise of most blogs. Some pathetic meaningless person is trying to accomplish something, or share their opinion of what they think about a laundry list of things. They will try to be witty, use a big word every now and again. It makes them almost feel as if they have creative license the way their favorite authors might. I wish I could be the first to tell them that periodically saving data to a free webserver doesn't make you an author. In fact the only people that read your stupid blog are your girlfriend and your mom. I suppose my thoughts on Blogging directly correlate to how I feel about Twitter. Do not use the power of the written word to render an opinion you judge to be relevant.
Filmdrunk, Brobible, pretty much everything on Uproxx...they have it figured out. They use the word "fuck" they tell funny stories, and I'm pretty sure I would enjoy having a beer with most of their readers, whereas I have no interest in talking about the current job climate with the creator of joesthoughtsonlife.wordpress.com.
The reason people read blogs is because they are bored...which is really the only reason anyone ever does anything. If I was completely happy and content to sit on a couch and stare off into space I would never watch tv, read books, drink, work out, write or see movies. But I fucking hate working, and I hate sitting on the couch alone in the dark, alas I complete one of the aforementioned tasks. Furthermore, I receive no enjoyment from reading about a fun new recipe, or your child's first steps. I like to read headlines like this "Al Pacino is a creepy old perv" or "Killing a case solo: It's possible."
Call me immature, or a hypocritical douche bag, but I promise that this blog will always come with drunken tomfoolery and humor-filled social commentary...and if you think my blog sucks, that's fine...you're probably a hard-working liberal with blue collar parents who has a chip on their shoulder due to watching people like me grow up priviledged...suck it.
It's all horrifying. "My quest to eat nothing but unprocessed food for 6 months...o golly I don't know how I'll live without Qdoba!" That is the lame ass premise of most blogs. Some pathetic meaningless person is trying to accomplish something, or share their opinion of what they think about a laundry list of things. They will try to be witty, use a big word every now and again. It makes them almost feel as if they have creative license the way their favorite authors might. I wish I could be the first to tell them that periodically saving data to a free webserver doesn't make you an author. In fact the only people that read your stupid blog are your girlfriend and your mom. I suppose my thoughts on Blogging directly correlate to how I feel about Twitter. Do not use the power of the written word to render an opinion you judge to be relevant.
Filmdrunk, Brobible, pretty much everything on Uproxx...they have it figured out. They use the word "fuck" they tell funny stories, and I'm pretty sure I would enjoy having a beer with most of their readers, whereas I have no interest in talking about the current job climate with the creator of joesthoughtsonlife.wordpress.com.
The reason people read blogs is because they are bored...which is really the only reason anyone ever does anything. If I was completely happy and content to sit on a couch and stare off into space I would never watch tv, read books, drink, work out, write or see movies. But I fucking hate working, and I hate sitting on the couch alone in the dark, alas I complete one of the aforementioned tasks. Furthermore, I receive no enjoyment from reading about a fun new recipe, or your child's first steps. I like to read headlines like this "Al Pacino is a creepy old perv" or "Killing a case solo: It's possible."
Call me immature, or a hypocritical douche bag, but I promise that this blog will always come with drunken tomfoolery and humor-filled social commentary...and if you think my blog sucks, that's fine...you're probably a hard-working liberal with blue collar parents who has a chip on their shoulder due to watching people like me grow up priviledged...suck it.
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
Random Bruises
It's Tuesday afternoon which is usually about the time of the week that I either come to out of my blackout or my hangover has subsided enough for a little physical evalutaion. Now this past weekend was pretty run of the mill, a couple bars, a bit of day drinking, a hockey game...but nevertheless BAC's of .4 and above were undoubtedly reached. This is why on Tuesday afternoon, I am bruised from head to toe, walking with a limp, have half my voice, and a polo covered in blood.
Why does this happen? Who knows, I never remember these personal injuries that I incur while moonlighting for 48 hours as a weekend warrior. I compare it to the Bond villain in The World is Not Enough who due to nerve damage can feel no pain. I'm sure in the midst of my memory lapses the pain may be excrutiating but since I am barely conscious at the time of these accidents I chalk it up to bad nightmares. Unfortunately like those of the kids from A Nightmare on Elm Street, I wake up and the damage is still there. And you know how much Freddie hates kids that seemingly get drunk, fornicate, and have a good time...in fact maybe that was the underlying theme of all those 80's slashers...the killer never existed, he was just a figment of the teens' blackout, they were really inflicting the damage upon themselves only with the help of their pals Jimmy Beam and Jack D.
No worries though, like Elizabeth Taylor's heart after divorce number 7, my body will heal only to be destroyed again a week later...and like a frat paddle on bare ass, it hurts a little less every time.
Why does this happen? Who knows, I never remember these personal injuries that I incur while moonlighting for 48 hours as a weekend warrior. I compare it to the Bond villain in The World is Not Enough who due to nerve damage can feel no pain. I'm sure in the midst of my memory lapses the pain may be excrutiating but since I am barely conscious at the time of these accidents I chalk it up to bad nightmares. Unfortunately like those of the kids from A Nightmare on Elm Street, I wake up and the damage is still there. And you know how much Freddie hates kids that seemingly get drunk, fornicate, and have a good time...in fact maybe that was the underlying theme of all those 80's slashers...the killer never existed, he was just a figment of the teens' blackout, they were really inflicting the damage upon themselves only with the help of their pals Jimmy Beam and Jack D.
No worries though, like Elizabeth Taylor's heart after divorce number 7, my body will heal only to be destroyed again a week later...and like a frat paddle on bare ass, it hurts a little less every time.
Thursday, February 18, 2010
Floating Holidays
I bet responsible people budget their floating holidays to correspond with family gatherings such as Christmas or Thanksgiving. That's fucking dumb. Why the hell would you add an extra day by the fire watching the Macy's parade when you can take it right away and go to Aspen? Responsible people probably budget their vacation time as well or even worse let it roll over to the next year. Anytime I hear someone say, "Oh I can't go on this trip, I can't take the time off work." Or the people that go on vacations but still check their work email? Are you fucking kidding me? WHo cares how the market performed today or if the McNally deal went through or not. You are on a beach with a cocktail. You should be thinking "too close for missles, I'm switching to guns" and befriend the tiki bar server and take tequilla shots with him.
The only thing I think about when I get back from a vacation, is my next vacation. In fact sometimes I talk about my next vacation on my current vacation. I fucking scribble that shit all over the place at my desk, talk about it all day, it reminds me that if I can survive until said date I will be free. In the span of Q1 2010 I will have been on 3 major vacations, and several other getaways. I use a mixture of unpaid vacation time, sick days, and #floating holidays to do this. It helps that I don't have to pay for housing in the Bahamas, Vegas and Aspen, but someone who makes less than a salaried manager at Sonic shouldn't live this sort of lifestyle.
Quick side rant, people that call in sick when they are sick are idiots. You should come in when you are sick and do absolutely nothing. One of two things will happen, you will be sent home and NOT docked a sick day or you will just sit there and do nothing, no one will expect you to do anything if you are obviously sick. Sick days are for hangovers and unapproved vacations (cough cough I'm sick..."Peanuts, get your peanuts.") Yes Sick days are great for Day Games. End Rant.
I think I'm nearing some sort of hypothesis, quick interjection...when I write this blog I never have any idea what direction I'm going to take it...I just Go. AT some point I find a rational (or irrational) though and I just follow it. Right, well then, I think what I am trying to say is...nothing could ever make me a slave to my job. If I was on the beach and I checked my work email and found out something terrible...I would still be on the beach, why would you check your work email? If something bad is in there and you don't look at it...you'll never know. It's kind of like why I never check the mail at home, it's probably just bills, I feel like if I don't acknowledge them, they will just go away or something.
Jet-setting every weekend in the winter is great, and while it may not be the most fiscally responsible decision, I'm living in the now. I might plan a spring break for late March after this blog post, because when I'm 40, I'm not going to look back on the time that I was 23 and made 50 cold calls on a Monday morning in March. I'm going to remember tearing Ajax to shreds and then getting shattered at Erick's with some ski bums. In fact when I am 40 I will probably have a wife, kids, never get laid and my only vacations will be annual trips to Disney World...now is the time for the irresponsible bender paid for by money I don't have using the vacation time I haven't accrued. Don't think...just do.
The only thing I think about when I get back from a vacation, is my next vacation. In fact sometimes I talk about my next vacation on my current vacation. I fucking scribble that shit all over the place at my desk, talk about it all day, it reminds me that if I can survive until said date I will be free. In the span of Q1 2010 I will have been on 3 major vacations, and several other getaways. I use a mixture of unpaid vacation time, sick days, and #floating holidays to do this. It helps that I don't have to pay for housing in the Bahamas, Vegas and Aspen, but someone who makes less than a salaried manager at Sonic shouldn't live this sort of lifestyle.
Quick side rant, people that call in sick when they are sick are idiots. You should come in when you are sick and do absolutely nothing. One of two things will happen, you will be sent home and NOT docked a sick day or you will just sit there and do nothing, no one will expect you to do anything if you are obviously sick. Sick days are for hangovers and unapproved vacations (cough cough I'm sick..."Peanuts, get your peanuts.") Yes Sick days are great for Day Games. End Rant.
I think I'm nearing some sort of hypothesis, quick interjection...when I write this blog I never have any idea what direction I'm going to take it...I just Go. AT some point I find a rational (or irrational) though and I just follow it. Right, well then, I think what I am trying to say is...nothing could ever make me a slave to my job. If I was on the beach and I checked my work email and found out something terrible...I would still be on the beach, why would you check your work email? If something bad is in there and you don't look at it...you'll never know. It's kind of like why I never check the mail at home, it's probably just bills, I feel like if I don't acknowledge them, they will just go away or something.
Jet-setting every weekend in the winter is great, and while it may not be the most fiscally responsible decision, I'm living in the now. I might plan a spring break for late March after this blog post, because when I'm 40, I'm not going to look back on the time that I was 23 and made 50 cold calls on a Monday morning in March. I'm going to remember tearing Ajax to shreds and then getting shattered at Erick's with some ski bums. In fact when I am 40 I will probably have a wife, kids, never get laid and my only vacations will be annual trips to Disney World...now is the time for the irresponsible bender paid for by money I don't have using the vacation time I haven't accrued. Don't think...just do.
Friday, February 12, 2010
Blowing off steam
I feel like a total douche...I only posted once this week, and it was just a link to some other really great article. I had just a miserable week...like literally one for the ages. I got yelled at by every single one of my managers at work for something every day...I was in traffic for a record 24 hours this week due to an impromptu snowstorm...and oh ya, the Colts lost the fucking superbowl.
A bad week in college was getting kicked out of a bar before 2 am, back to back whiskey dick episodes, or an 8 am interview on a Friday...that was it. Now I deal with that shit like twice daily...its called life. So what do you do when the world turns its back on you? (you turn your back on the world hakuna motata?)
No, you drive down to St. Louis to get fucking shit-housed for 2 days to forget about how much your present life sucks. For 48 hours I will make hurricane jokes about the real mardi gras because I now have a lifelong grudge against New Orleans, and because of some age old tradition, I will throw plastic beaded necklaces at drunken 17 year olds and get a free peep show to some high quality live action lolita porn (too much? maybe who cares.)
I've been jet setting a lot lately and my actions are spiraling quite out of control, my friends are in the early workings of staging an intervention. (Oh the irony the kid behind me just put on Joe Walsh's Life's been good to me so far) on that note if my current actions leave me unable to talk due to substance induced strokes when I'm 60 but I can still shred the guitar like the Eagles' axe-man, well, I'll chalk life up as a success.
Mardi Gras is a holiday that was turned into a booze juiced party ebcause it falls in the middle of winter...depressing. Maybe this mini-bender will spark some life back into a once vibrant and joyful individual...or maybe my vices will get the best of me this weekend and I'll come back with some great war stories but just a little bit more emotionally hollow...
...or maybe I'll find the girl of my dreams and by her a Vermont Teddy Bear for Valentine's day...stay tuned my friends.
A bad week in college was getting kicked out of a bar before 2 am, back to back whiskey dick episodes, or an 8 am interview on a Friday...that was it. Now I deal with that shit like twice daily...its called life. So what do you do when the world turns its back on you? (you turn your back on the world hakuna motata?)
No, you drive down to St. Louis to get fucking shit-housed for 2 days to forget about how much your present life sucks. For 48 hours I will make hurricane jokes about the real mardi gras because I now have a lifelong grudge against New Orleans, and because of some age old tradition, I will throw plastic beaded necklaces at drunken 17 year olds and get a free peep show to some high quality live action lolita porn (too much? maybe who cares.)
I've been jet setting a lot lately and my actions are spiraling quite out of control, my friends are in the early workings of staging an intervention. (Oh the irony the kid behind me just put on Joe Walsh's Life's been good to me so far) on that note if my current actions leave me unable to talk due to substance induced strokes when I'm 60 but I can still shred the guitar like the Eagles' axe-man, well, I'll chalk life up as a success.
Mardi Gras is a holiday that was turned into a booze juiced party ebcause it falls in the middle of winter...depressing. Maybe this mini-bender will spark some life back into a once vibrant and joyful individual...or maybe my vices will get the best of me this weekend and I'll come back with some great war stories but just a little bit more emotionally hollow...
...or maybe I'll find the girl of my dreams and by her a Vermont Teddy Bear for Valentine's day...stay tuned my friends.
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
The Anti-bro
Read this article...have a good laugh...and then write a condescending comment calling this kid a fag.
http://www.dailygamecock.com/viewpoints/egotistical-hedonistic-misogynistic-males-need-to-bro-out-1.1115291?firstComment=0
http://www.dailygamecock.com/viewpoints/egotistical-hedonistic-misogynistic-males-need-to-bro-out-1.1115291?firstComment=0
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