The Drunken Blog

I’ve always been told that it’s poor form to give out your number to a girl in a bar, and it is. There’s only one reason that a guy gives out his number, and that is because he’s too scared to ask for her number. Let me fill you in on a little secret – if you don’t have the balls to ask for her number, than she’s not going to bother to call you. Plus, the chances are that you like her more than she likes you. So while she may have liked you just enough to go out with you if you had been somewhat persistent in calling her, she definitely does not like you enough to go out of her way to call you. That’s just the way the world works.

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Not quite content with the TV theme song power hour mix in it’s current state, I took some time to modify and enhance it. It now has all songs that are actually TV songs (before there were a couple of movies on there). Also, I changed the order some, putting what I thought were better songs towards the front, and the not so good songs towards the end. I’ve used the previous mix a few times and I feel I’ve gotten a pretty good feel for how certain songs do.

I’m also feeling out the possibility for making a cheesy love song power hour mix for a debut on Valentine’s day. So feel free to leave me some ideas for songs that you would like to see in that mix in the comments.

Songs removed from the original mix are:

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Back when I was in college underage drinking was the “hip” thing to do. Not wanting to be called “un-hip” – a title reserved for my grandmother (who is called that because she had her hip removed, not because she’s not cool, even though she isn’t cool) I occasionally partook in the wonderful adventures that alcohol could provide.

I even tried to take this wonderful past time of drinking large volumes of alcoholic beverages home with me during winter break. It should be noted that this story takes place during my sophomore year in college, which means that I was still only 19 and green around the ears. It’s weird coming home from college over breaks. After having so much freedom to do anything that you want to suddenly being back to where you have to tell your parents where you are going at night, and have to secretly plan parties when they are out is a far cry from walking to your neighbor’s dorm and getting wasted on a moment’s notice.

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Back before I was a born, kids had to make things up in order to play. They called this “using your imagination”. Luckily I didn’t have to do that, as I had TV growing up. Granted, my parents did limit my TV consumption somewhat, but I ended up using my imagination figuring out ways to get around the limitations in place, as opposed to using my imagination to find games to play. After all, when you play a game, there is no reward if you win. But if you figure out how to watch more TV, well, you get to watch more TV.

It’s not that kids don’t have imaginations these days; it’s just that they don’t have a motivation to use them. There is a saying that necessity breeds invention. Necessity creates motivation for the invention, plus any monetary motivation that might be involved from creating the invention is factored in there as well. Something along these lines happened to me recently.

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Looking at the title, you may think that I am going to go on a rant about Greek life. And while I’m sure I have a few in me, that is not what this post is about. This is about “that guy” that will pay for your drinks in a bar. As they say, though, there is no such thing as a free lunch, or a free drink, in this case.

We get to TGIF and it’s pretty dead. Kat is looking very good, though, and the clientele at the bar recognizes this instantly. Specifically Arnold. Arnold is a drunk black guy, about 45 years old if I had to guess. He was a friendly guy, but a little too friendly. Annoyingly friendly. He starts complimenting Kat and he shakes my hand because I’m with Kat. He then offers to buy us a drink. I really don’t want to accept because I know the price of those free drinks. It means that this guy will be hanging over us all night. I can’t blame him, I mean, buying a drink for somebody is basically a legally binding social contract.

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So last night I ventured out with some of my fellow government workers. We just returned from Christmas break and were ready to cut loose in town. We started early at the restaurant around 7. Three of us drank three pitchers. After dinner we went to the bars. That’s when the real drinking began. We started with beers then moved up to the real stuff. By this point, I figure I had consumed about nine beers in a three hour time span. One of my comrades had never had an Irish Car Bomb before. I found this to be ridiculous and quickly fixed the problem.

Not to be outdone, one of my fellow alpha males bought a round of Red Bull & vodkas. This particular bar does not adhere to the standard of a half pint of Red Bull and a separate shot glass of vodka. Instead, they pour a full pint glass of ice, vodka, and Red Bull. Vodka was the most prevalent of these ingredients. I don’t complain. The third man is guilt-tripped into buying yet another round. This time it’s everybody’s favorite: Jagermeister.

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Everybody knows what Uggs are, but a lot of people don’t know what LUGs are. I am here to explain that to you, and many other things, which you would think I really shouldn’t know anything about, and yet, somehow I do.

I might even go so far as to say that I am an expert in the subject. It’s not a hard field to become an expert in, it just requires a lot of dedication, and LUGs are something to which I am willing to wholeheartedly dedicate myself. For the uninformed, a LUG is actually a handy acronym and stands for Lesbian Until Graduation.

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In what had to be one of the most random nights in recent history, I got to see Jeff in his element – last call on the dance floor with only one other person there in a bar in Bethesda. Let me tell you how we got there, though.

It starts because it is end of the semester – not for me, I’m done with school (for now, anyway). My good friend Jess wants to hang out. It’s been entirely too long since we had hung out, and she was in town, so I of course agreed. I suggested we go out of a Friday night, but this being the weekend before New Years she was leaving early Saturday morning to go to New York. I suggested Thursday. Normally I wouldn’t because I have work on Friday, but I was taking off this Friday off because I had some comp time.
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