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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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 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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If you’ll recall, Ghost Writer was a pedophilic ghost who would help middle school kids solve mysteries in a twisted game of hangman by revealing only certain words or letters and making the kids guess who the deviant was. You can basically think of Ghost Writer as the live action version of Scooby Doo, where the ghost would be Scooby Doo, except replace “stoner” with “pedifiliac”.

You might have assumed that a ghost did not actually write this because I’m not in middle school, and therefore Ghost Writer wouldn’t waste his time with me, but what you may not have guessed is that I have a team of real live writers dedicated to making me look good through the written word.

I fired them.

Really, it was about hygiene, keeping a room full of monkeys with typewriters is downright disgusting. Too often they would start arguing over the phrasing of a particular sentence and before you know it the feces flinging would begin. I was spending half of my ad revenue on bleach and toothbrushes (don’t ask). I figure that while my writing may be less entertaining now and therefore garner less income for me, the drop won’t be 50% and I’ll still be ahead of my monkey-poo depleted net income.
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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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I don’t really think of myself as a good writer. I’m very critical of what I write to the point that it becomes tedious and arduous to read, so generally I don’t read what I write. If I’m lucky I’ll proofread a story to make sure that while I was changing thoughts mid-sentence that I remembered to go back and make the rest of the sentence cohesive. Recently, however, I was forced to go back and read a story that I had written.

The story was about a housewarming party and it apparently made me some enemies. Somebody disliked that story enough to give me a mild death threat in the comments section. The reason that I went back to read that story is because I randomly ran into the person that sent me the death threat. Let me explain.
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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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An interesting side effect to going out drinking at veritable hole in the wall establishments is that it’s often slow and the servers can be pretty bored. And just like anybody when they are bored, they turn to TV to fill the void, unless of course you are a girl server in a place that only has sports on the TVs; they have to become more creative to overcome their boredness.

It’s been my experience that they will typically try to talk in order to spice things up a bit. Sometimes they do it because they are bored, other times they do it because they are trying to extract as large a tip as possible from you. You can usually tell when the conversation is genuine, however, when what they say is not exactly what you want to hear.
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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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