The Drunken Blog

In psychology you learn that attention is a finite resource.  There is only a limited amount of attention that any single person can give to any particular stimulus.  You can pay a little attention to multiple things or you can give all of your attention to one thing.  For instance, right now you are reading this, but not with all of your attention, most likely because you are listening for your boss to walk up behind you and you want to be able to close the browser before they realize you’re reading a site about drunken debacles instead of doing whatever it is you do so that your boss can afford an $85,000 rug in his office.

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It’s that time of year again… Bells are ringing, lights are being hung and thousands are invading the malls, prepared for epic battle, in search of the perfect gift.  No, it’s not wedding season… It’s Christmas.  And with it comes those perfect occasions we all dread, at least in some small capacity, in the deepest recesses in the pits of our stomachs: The Christmas Party.    Be it at home with our relatives or at the office with the co-workers, it’s go time for awkwardness.

You probably thought it couldn’t get much worse than Thanksgiving… But it can… And it will.  Family gatherings can be a lot like a bad relationship after you’re out of it… You look back and remember the good parts with complete amnesia about all the bad parts.  But then, as soon as you walk back in the door, it all comes flooding back to you.  And all of a sudden, you want out.  Where’s my jacket?  “I think someone has $#!% on the coats!”  Office parties aren’t any better.  What’s worse than being paid to spend all day with people you can barely stand in the first place?  Not being paid to spend a night with people you can barely stand in the first place.  You might be thinking right now “No way.  I love my family and I have great co-workers.”  But deep down, you know it’s true.  And so, in the spirit of giving, in this episode I will share with you some tips for surviving those maladroit moments. (more…)

I’ve always wanted to be a lawyer.  At least, my mom has always wanted me to be a lawyer, or a doctor, or an astronaut, or the President.  I guess that’s what mom’s do, hope that their children take up amazing professions and make lots of money so that the parents will be taken care of in their old age.  Well, I considered being a lawyer, I even took the LSAT, which is the admittance test for law school.

The LSAT, as it tends to do, didn’t even have the common decency to lube up before it had its way with me.  It was not a pleasant experience.  And yet, I’m still considering going into law school, and I have several friends who agree with that notion.  It would fit in well with my current career, but of course, it’s expensive and takes a lot of time.

And why bother going to law school when you can sue somebody without going?  You just have to make sure you sue somebody for less than $5000, which is what I’m doing.

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I know my mom reads my blog, but I don’t think my grandma does, so I should be OK in writing this. This past weekend (please note, this was originally written back in August) it was my grandfather’s 80th birthday, which means that his children and grandchildren from across the country congregated to celebrate this calculated event. But as with most birthday parties, there was an ulterior motive for their gathering – deciding whether or not my grandmother (who divorced my grandfather years and years ago) and who lives alone, should continue to live alone, or if they should put her in a home.

Apparently cooking steak in a toaster oven isn’t considered normal.
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I was in DC recently for Lisa’s birthday party. The plan initially was to start at Rumor’s and barhop. I had a feeling the barhopping wouldn’t happen because it’s hard to coordinate a large group of people leaving one bar and going to another bar.

We stayed at Rumor’s the entire night, and through the process I become somewhat intoxicated, so much so, in fact, that I decided to lower my standards. I spotted two girls that weren’t ugly by any means, but they weren’t exactly Perfect 10s, and they might have been a bit on the “meatier” side, although I wouldn’t go so far as to call them fat, despite the fact that I called one of them “Fat Tina Fey.”

I got Will to come with me, since there were two of them and we started dancing. The one girl didn’t want anything to do with Will, which was odd, since Will was out of her league. But I continued dancing with my girl, who I quickly dubbed Fat Tina Fey. Tina Fey, of course, was one of the lead writers for SNL, she also did the Daily Update, and most recently she is on the show 30 Rock, which happens to be one of my favorites.
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Jake and Jules had a combined birthday party recently. It made sense, they went to high school together, they have a lot of the same friends, why not combine their resources to make one cool party, as opposed to two mediocre-to-cool parties?

The plan was simple; since everybody was tired of the Ballroom, find a new location for the party. That new location happened to be very convenient for Jake and me; that new location was our building. Not our apartment, mind you, but the two rooms that we rented out in our building for this specific event.

One of the rooms was a game room. It had several TVs, a pool table, a foosball table, a dart board, several tables and a chic couch. It was a pretty swanky place to have a party. But Jake was afraid that it would be too cramped in there and/or there would not be enough entertainment for everybody.

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Halloween is a magical time of year. It’s a chance for guys to show their creativity by coming up with humorous and/or grotesque and/or ironic costumes, and it’s a chance for girls to show off their “creativity” by dressing as slutily as possible. Really everybody wins. Since guys typically like girls based solely on their looks it makes it even easier for guys to pick out girls; of course, just because it’s easier to pick them out doesn’t mean that it’s any easier to pick them up.

It’s not just the guys that make out on Halloween, although I’m sure that is what all girls think that don’t dress up slutily. If anything, girls have even more of an advantage in terms of choosing winners during Halloween than do guys. You see, often times a costume will reflect a person’s personality. If you see a guy that has a T-shirt that says “Free breathalyzer” and has an arrow pointing at his crotch, you can be pretty sure that in addition to being unoriginal, he is probably a douche.
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Vegas day 3 started off with a bang. I had stumbled back to my place at around 5 AM and I passed out almost as soon as my head hit the pillow. The next two hours were the most glorious two hours of my life, because after those two hours, I was awakened. Not in the normal way one would expect to be awakened, though, no, in Vegas everything is done up, and having people wake you up is no exception.

Apparently my friends decided that it would be a lot of fun not to sleep at all that night, so they stayed out until about 7 and then came back to the room. My buddy Ahab was deliriously tired. He ran into the room yelling “wake up, bitches!” So, begrudgingly, I complied. You see, it was our plan to go to Rehab, which is a pool party at one of the Casinos. Not just any pool party, though, this is an exclusive pool party, so exclusive that it costs $40 to get in, and you have to wait 3 hours in line to get in. The pool opened at 11, so we wanted to get in line around 8AM to be among the first ones in.
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One interesting fact about Oh, Vegas, is that you’re always hungover. It’s not a great feeling, but it kind of goes with the territory. The key, then, is to overcome the hangover. There are numerous ways to do this; the most common is to continue drinking. On Saturday morning we did a combination move to get rid of our headaches. We went to the pool, drank some, and passed out.

Well, some of us passed out, and others didn’t drink, but collectively, we drank and passed out. It’s been my experience that the only sin in Sin City is to sleep at night. Sleeping during the day is fine, that’s the cheapest way to pass the time until you can go out the next night, but if you go to sleep before 5am your friends are going to laugh at you.
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