The Drunken Blog

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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Have you ever obligated yourself to meet up with somebody that you know in your heart of hearts is just a plain bad idea, but somehow in a moment of weakness you did anyway? This usually happens with an ex when you are intoxicated, but that’s not always the case. I know personally there are some people that I like more when I’m in a certain kind of mood. I don’t know who those people are, or what that mood is, specifically, but I know it happens.

After you realize what you’ve done, you try desperately to get out of it, if you’re like most people. I, however, would rather sit through an awkward encounter than try to weasel my way out of it. If I say I am going to do something, I am going to do it, even if I’m drunk when I say it – as long as I remember. An example of this would be the other night when I was coming home from a happy hour in DC. I wasn’t driving, because I was drunk, and I tried to put on Mary’s bracelet as a necklace. The scary thing about that situation was the fact that it actually fit over my head and around my neck. The problem was that it didn’t fit on the way off. So I broke her brand new pearl bracelet the first time she got to wear it. I felt really bad about it and I told her I would replace it for her. She didn’t take me seriously, but the next day I sent her a tracking number for the new bracelet.

Of course, there was also guilt motivating me there, but in general if I say something I stick to it because I don’t like it when other people say they are going to do something just to assuage you when they really have no intention of doing said action at all. I’d rather just be told “No, I don’t think I’m going to do that.”
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