Yeah

I got some drafts that I want to put out but I'm not sure if I should continue this. Stories are pretty similar nowadays. Will probably use this for extra special crazy drinking stories.

In the meantime, drink up! It's a celebration!

Tribe and Yeezus

I went to see Kanye last week for his final show in Brooklyn. I mainly went to hang with my pals, enjoy a free evening of music (thanks, D) and see A Tribe Called Quest because I'M OLD but I was also curious go here)

about a Kanye show. I have my own feelings about that dude and his show and his walking and crossing the line between confidence, cockiness and minor megalomania but that can be discussed at another time. This is just a collection of some of my tweets from the night. If you want an actual article with more substance that is almost as good as my booze fueled ramblings

I have edited these for spelling, context and to correct the mashed keys of a man who drank basically a tumbler of vodka and Red Bulls in addition to beers. Enjoy.








(Waiting before the concert to get in...)
- Dude is freestyling on this VIP line. No idea why...

My friends are the best.

(Private box seats before the show...)

Nice Red Bull view. Again, my friends are the best.

(ATCQ comes out and I'm instantly transported back to Queens and the 90s...)
- There are very few perfect moments. Watching A Tribe Called Quest live standing with my friend since 8th grade? Definitely one of them. #foreverfriends
- Highlights so far- Busta coming out and the CRAZY thick Low End Theory/Bonita Applebum chick

I repeat, CRAZY. Everyone stopped breathing.

- This chick is bad. Even the white boys have become mesmerized. #postracial #racism
- My friend- "Remember when we were bumping these joints in the hallway, bruh. Bustah Rhymes just Hacksaw Jim Duggan'd 'Scenario.'"


(Yeezus just rose again... Or for the first time tonight...)
- As my brother would say "there are many white angels from Caucasian heaven" on this stage.

No idea what was going on but they wore fancy linens.

- Kanye looks like Liberace/Bane.

"Let's not stand on ceremony here, my minions."- L. Bane

- Where is WHITE Jesus?!
- In thrall to the cult.

The crowd was mesmerized.

- What? Did this dude just rise up on an iceberg? Is it snowing in here? Oh, it's snowing only on Yeezy. Okay.

Glacier or iceberg? It doesn't even matter.

- My friend- "He's rapping while lying on a glacier. The only thing missing from this Kanye show is a virgin sacrifice." (it didn't happen but I wouldn't had been surprised)
- Kanye is sitting on white women. That's all you need to know.

These white folks were once arranged in sofa form. Like Voltron.

- Is that... Is that a wendigo?
- Kanye came here to you folks that you don't believe in yourselves enough.
- My friend- "Why is Kanye wearing Darkman's duster coat?"
- How do you have people hyped over one key being played? Really?! #toasttothedouchebags
- Kanye has been preaching/singing like R. Kelly for the last 15 minutes. Drink that Kool-Aid.
- Tesla?
- Kanye is now sparkly Deathstroke. Have no idea if I have really seen him tonight. That is all.

Really?!

- Is Kanye about to be sent to the grid? Oh, it's just the "Through The Wire" intro. Proceed.
- This concert needs some Aziz Ansari to break up the life lessons.

(At this point Kanye inserts something about the sound/monitor guy. I only caught about a second of it because I was focused on two-fisting beer at this point. Another one of my 20 friends who were randomly there also tweeted the next day what was up- "Remember last night, when Kanye's monitor guy interrupted his rant and then Kanye yelled at us all that the guy made him lose his stream of consciousness and he was about to inspire us to cure cancer but now we were all going to have to live with cancer forever. hahahahahahahaha." Dammit.)

- YES!!!! WHITE JESUS!
- White Jesus has revealed Ye's face. Finally.

"My son, why are you wearing that denim skort?"- Weezus

- Just FYI- Ye has the finest skirts.
- Kanye West- Deepest V Champion. Uncontested. For years.
- Phone dying. No more #Yeezus tweets. Sorry.

Phone went kaput. (I need a new one very soon) The concert ended soon after. My friends went to enjoy the night at club where Q-Tip was spinning and I went home like a semi-responsible adult, wired off of Yeezus energy, Red Bull and being with my friends. The trip home continued the good vibes. The night gave me a lot to think on and were all around good times.
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

My final #Yeezus tweet (for now) was the next day-
"I'm looking for a shiny mask and a Darkman trench coat so I can be more #Kanye today. Where's my wendigo?! #yeezus"

"You may be talented but you're not Kanye West."- actual Yeezus quote

SHOTS, SHOTS, SHOTS, SHOTS!

So, it was The Rub again and also The Master of Shotz birthday. What could go wrong?

I was supposed to meet some people and bring them in with me but they cancelled because they are lame and I scooped up a pal from the line and did my usual entry. I had about $50 on me with $30 of that automatically going to pay back a friend so my game plan was A DRINK and just chilling with friends. Maybe 2 drinks if my DJ pals weren't hitting up the beer backstage. I was DEFINITELY NOT doing shots of Jameson like I knew had a high potential of going down. Especially since Darth Fader would also be there.

I accomplished one of these goals.

I'll probably have my wedding, kids' baptisms and wake  DJed by these guys.

This was still the game plan when I ran into my friend D at the other bar. He had a night out to just chill and he's good to be around because we keep the mood relax while somewhat sober. After a certain level, well...

So, he offers to buy me a drink and I turn him down. Initially. Twenty minutes pass and I figure what the hell? I'll get one vodka cranberry and be good. D says "I got you" and makes sure that the bartender gives me Stoli.

"I don't pay for any random liquor." Which is smart because you don't want to drink antifreeze.*

Drink Uno- drank.

Normally, at this point I go back to the larger room where my pals are DJing but the guy they had  was KILLIN' IT!

More of my friends arrive. I get more drinks. I avoid shots. I was marginally successful for the night.

Fast forward to about 3 AM. I've haven't hit on any women and I don't care.** I have danced with two or four of my female friends awkwardly and that means it's closing time for this guy.

I trek to the train and pass out from exhaustion. I wake up going towards Coney Island which is weird since I got on the train going back to Queens. What I think happened is that I slept so long the train had begun to make the return trip. I got up, got on another train, got off, caught my bus and almost got in a fight with this dude for nodding off too close to him which was totally my fault but he could have been calmer.

It is now almost 8 or 9 AM.

There is another round of drinking at 7 PM and I told someone I would go with them to watch fireworks at 10/11 PM. Joy.

I awake at 2:30 PM and I do not want to leave the bed. Check that- I was WOKEN up at 2:30 by fireworks friend girl to see if we were going to hang later. I remind her of my other party and take a shower.

I get to the event and NOBODY gets there for an hour. I should know better at this point with my people but the hot dog, beer and view make up for it.

They missed out.

My friends eventually arrive. I plan to leave at 9 to meet my other friend but she lames out on me for the second night in a row so I plan now to leave at 9:30.

Riiiigggghhhhttt......

Three (or four) Brooklyn Ales later and it's 11:00 PM. I've pulled a me but it was a good time so I'm not upset and I'm a grownup so I could have left whenever.

Great but exhausting weekend with friends.

I don't want to do it again for awhile. I'm getting tired.


*Although a lot of bars just give you that shite anyway and keep it in fancy bottles. You can tell if you are a dru- an aficionado like myself. 
**This has been a recent development in this past year or so and I think I'm finally cool with that. I don't have to live the life for my friends to live vicariously through me all the time.

Star Shine

I just saw a news report about this place- Star Shine.
I'm not really the guy who needs a shoe shine but I got kinda excited about this.

Not for the cleavage view of the women but for the idea of drinking at a new venue.
Growth or a problem with booze?
You decide.

"Pour Your Own Poison"

I had a talk with a friend about my trying not to drink again. My decision came about partly because I was trying to be healthy and also my liver must hate me after all of these years and probably deserves a respite. My friend ask why don't I just cut back on the amount I drink while I'm out. I just laughed at that. You would think someone who has known me since we've been about 11 years old would know better. I don't believe in moderation, or at least I get confused by it, particularly in hedonistic activities. I received a gift from both sides of family- addiction. Whether it's drugs, drink, gambling, hoarding or (for my mother) working, my family goes all in. I live like a Spartan, don't really like drugs or spending/losing money, so all that is left is working and drinking. I'm still underemployed right now and so that leaves drinking.... BUT my underemployment has helped with the drinking since I can't afford to imbibe. So, when there is a cost, I can't drink that much anyway if I wanted to.

The problem is when I show up and there is no cost....

For example, one of my nephews had a birthday party during St. Patrick's Day weekend. I normally hate going out around this holiday because it normally involves an argument and/or tussle with some drunk white guy, usually from Boston. But, I figured I'd be good at this event. Just Puerto Ricans and black folks. And I wasn't drinking so it was going to be all good. What I neglected to remember was that parties for kids of a certain age was partially for them to see family and get gifts but it was mostly for adults to sit around and drink while children are contained.

So, I get there early with my younger brother Rock and my father and it's just my older brother and his wife at this point. He shows me the apartment set-up and where the food and drinks are. 

"There is a cooler of beer right there, man" he says.

"Naw. No thanks. I'm taking a break from drinking," I reply.

He pauses to look at me for a second. I guess my legend has proceeded me or I got more internet readers than I thought. 

"Okay," he says. "Well, it's there if you want."

I thank him again and sit down. It's cool for a little while. Very low key. Then people start to arrive.

Here is a thing you should know about me and my brother Rock- we are very similar about a lot of things but different about a lot of others. One of those things is how we deal with people. When first meeting us, most people would think that I'm the one who is more comfortable with meeting new people. It's true to a point. I'm excellent at feigning false interest and witty bullshit. I learned that from years of private schooling and dealing with people I really don't want to talk to in the first place. But after the initial bit, if I'm bored or don't feel I have anything to contribute I become the quiet guy. My little brother is different. He never starts up so he maintains a dickish aloofness that actually makes people want to talk to him. So 40 minutes into a party with sober Sean and a sober Rock, you'll probably be dealing with him more than me.

This was not going to work. These people were family or close enough where I had to step up. Plus, after eating all these chips and pretzels I was getting thirsty.

"I'm getting a Coors," I said to my brothers, who were both drinking. I never get bent off of Coors or most lighter beers so I figured it would be cool to take one night off.

Six beers in and I'm nice but still good. Food is done. I'm eating, chatting and just enjoying the mania of kids running around with Nerf guns and other random forms of artillery. Kids have a lot of cool dangerous things nowadays. 

I'm chilling in the kitchen when I see it.

My old Southern friend...

Jack Daniel aka SoCo's crazy, rude uncle. Or creepy older cousin that goes muddin'. 

Delicious.

It was unopened and I asked my older brother if he was going to open it. He grabs the bottle and takes off the top and places it back on the counter.

"It's all yours' he says. "But you pour your own poison."

Cool with me.

I make a not too strong Jack and Coke and take a seat. Everything is all good. 

I sip it and just enjoy the warmness and the music playing and everyone talking.

Eventually I finish that cup and it's birthday cake time.

This is the point where the smart guy that lives in my brain starts banging pans and saying "YO! Don't eat cake and don't make another cup. Just because it hasn't hit you yet doesn't mean that this liquor is going to be cool with you tonight. All of this has happened before, and all of it will happen again."*

What do I do? 

Eat cake and make a strong cup of  J & C.

I believe there is a screwed up adult child checklist. Certain milestones you hit before you can truly call yourself a screw-up. You don't have to hit them all but you should take note when you do. They include but aren't limited to- 

-shitting yourself in public 

-rushing to pay your taxes on the afternoon/evening of April 15th

-crying alone or in shower, preferably with a shitty sad song playing in the background

-getting in a car with someone else who should also not be driving

-waking up on a floor

-waking up to either angry texts ("I can't beleive you...") and/or scared texts ("Where are you???Are you alive?")

-waking up in a hospital or jail after drinking heavily

-getting really sick in the middle of a crowded party

-throwing up in front of a parent

I accomplished that last one with flair.

I made it safely from the party, safely onto two trains and was almost to my father's apartment in the projects when I felt it. It was going to happen. I paused, bent over, spread my feet wide** and let loose. I vaguely remember my dad being concerned but Rock just saying "Don't worry. He's good."

Yeah, I've become that guy to my brother.

Anyway, what did I learn from all of this? Moderation is hard for me and I need to observe and respect that. I don't need to drink. Not really. But this episode has allowed me to go out recently and cut myself off with more confidence and at the right time. I think the key to me to maintaining that level of sobriety is having someone around me that isn't as sober as me or is drinking like I do. And to also do a mental "Don't drink a lot, Sean" admonishment at the beginning of the night. I don't think I'm quitting (at least not right now) but I have definitely pulled back from the demon juice. 

I'm proud of that and I think that is a step to moving past adding anymore items to The Screw-Up List. I already am a few steps back so I need no more minuses.

*He is a Battlestar Galactica nerd.
**Skillz.

This should be interesting...

So, Darth Fader's birthday party is tomorrow.

His invite just reads " BIRTHDAY DRINKS! "

The Master of Shotz will definitely be in attendance with assorted other imbibers.

There is a HUGE potential for shenanigans. I hope it makes good writing material.

Easter Drankin´

5 PM...

Easter Sunday...

About 3 beers in...

Tecate to be more specific. Yeah, I know Easter isn´t a traditional drinking day, what with it supposed to be honoring White Jesus Walkind Deading it up and all but, then again, folks get winter wasted on Christmas, which is supposed to be about Baby Jesus, so whatever. Excuse my blasphemous boozing and typing.

The point of me even bringing that up is to say that I´m drinking. Obviously. But it´s also to explain why this post is on this blog instead of one of my other blogs. (although, I really should mirror it on my Caged Therapy one too...) Let me rewind back a tad...

I´m apartment sitting and dogsitting for friends. Whenever I do this activity and it allows me freedom for a few days, I like to drink and write. Not drink to get bent/wasted/drunk, but to feel a tiny buzz. I feel it lubricates my writing tools. I´m like Hemingway in that way, or that´s the excuse I usually use. What REALLY happens is I end up killing the six pack over the course of two days, come up with ideas I jot down but don´t really finish anything.

I planned on this time being different.

I´ve been pissed at myself for not completing what I at least think are awesome story ideas. I say I´m a writer but I did way more writing when I was clueless as what to possibly label myself. I know what needs to be done. I even see myself wrapping up tales in my head; I just don´t do it.
So this time was going to be different.

I usually take most of my story ideas with me. This time I only took two with me and the book I would have to reference for one of them. I was gonna get it done.
That was Friday´s plan.

Cut to Sunday at 5 PM and I haven´t made any strides that are worth reporting about. I know pretty much 75% of how I want the main story I was supposed to bust out this weekend should go; I´ve just haven´t committed it to eternity. The ideas still exists only in my head and my fragmented chicken scratch. What happened?

I can blame this cute dog falling asleep in my lap but I won´t because that´s dumb. It´s harder to type but I´m still able to post with her in my lap right now so that´s a copout. I could blame being unfocused and tired and horny but only the last one is true. (SO TRUE) But, again, only excuses. Drinking beer maybe? Nope. Never stopped me before.

This is on me. My writing mojo is out of whack and has been for awhile. So I´m going back for what worked for me in the past- write a bit about the non-fiction of my current life and then move into my fantastical take on fiction when that gets me angry/sad/fired up enough. Hoping that works out. We´ll soon see in a few days won´t we.

BTW, there is no images on this post right now; I´m using someone else´s laptop and I´m not gonna monkey around with that stuff right now, especially since everything is en Espanol, even the keyboard to an extent. So, if you DO see images, it means I revisited this page at home, looked it over and said "Ehh. This is frakkin´true enough for me and the three folks who read this. It just needs a beer can or two to be perfect."

Decade Long Chapter Closed

This past Saturday was the final The Rub at Southpaw and I'm sad to see the party end at this venue.

Let me rewind it back a bit. Southpaw is a venue in Park Slope that I would only know about for probably two major reasons. The first reason is my boy Darth Fader lives down the street from it. (Yes, still; he moves like a block every year or so, like a fast glacier)

Okay, before I get to the second reason I have to tell you something. I'm going to shock some of you by telling you these facts but it had to come out sooner than later- I'm old and lame. I generally don't know about the "hip" venues and if I do, it's most likely because one of my friends took me there before. I'm just not that cool; I just know cool ass people.
This brings me to the second reason I know about Southpaw at all. I went to a small liberal arts college in upstate New York that Darth Fader fondly used to call "Ass-ar." You can probably figure out what it really was called. Great academic institution that I didn't always utilize fully knowledge-wise. What I did invest a lot of my time in was the random campus parties and dancing in the basement bar of the main building called The Mug. That place and the ratio of women to men were two strong selling points for me to attend this bastion of higher education. ("That and the fine professors and the vicinity to your family back in NYC, right Sean?" Suuurrreee)
This place gave me access to underage boozing, sweaty grinding and introduced me to a DJ by the name of Ayres.

Ayres was a cool blonde guy from down south who had impeccable taste in music- both old R&B and hip-hop. A few years ahead of me, I made sure that when Ayres started spinning in the city I would attend his parties. This is the other reason I knew about Southpaw and, ultimately, The Rub. Like I said I know COOL folks....folks.

So, me, Darth Fader and a few other like minded (read: drunk) individuals would attend these early Brooklyn fiestas and enjoy all the fine tunes.

We would grow to know everyone that worked there, particularly since these were the days before lines around the corner, three-people deep. It started with Ayres and then we met Eleven and Cosmo Baker, both extraordinary DJs and just good people. (Big shouts to the tall homie Eleven for helping me drink in Vegas and San Fran when we were there at the same time) Then came Rahnon, the lovely lady at the door; my boy Matt, always working the wristbands and cash; my cousin Jah for keeping things rocking there for The Rub and other SP events; Kenan, who was my favorite bartender there and, finally, all the security dudes. This family of folks made sure that things went smoothly, everyone danced and allowed me to put my ass-groove in to the top of the speaker padding near the front left-side of the stage. (I forget what that section is called in stage speech- stage front left?)

I had many a good, drunken night there- from the early days of pre-gaming with Fader with a bottle of wine each, sloppy b-boy battlin', meeting random women, Halloween shenanigans, rollin' 10 deep, watching Red Bull DJ battles, giving pounds to random rappers I used to listen to when I was younger ("GREG NICE AND PHAROAHE, I SEE YOU!"), seeing downstairs become its own separate world and enjoying the behind the stage action, particularly after closing time.

The Rub is moving down the road to The Bell House and I'm happy for my brothers on the wheels of steels and everyone coming along with them. After a decade, the same success is assured in any venue. I only hope and I'm confident that they'll duplicate the fun, party vibe that they had pumpin' at Southpaw. Kudos again for all the years and half-remembered nights.
I salute you.

Good times with good friends as always at The Rub.

Pancake Batter

Went out last night to only hang out with folks for a little while in honor (kinda) of one of my friends, Darth Fader, becoming gainfully employed again. I'm broke and just needed to get out. Had a rum and coke before arriving and figured I would only get like 2 beers and be good.

WRONG.

Forgot my other friend, SHOTS!, would be there. More drinks were brought, shots were taken, we went to another spot, more shots were had. Greasy food was eaten. My confidence was called into question.
I fell asleep on the train pass my stop. Fell asleep on the bus to the end of the line. Walked back home just after dawn. Went to sleep.
Woke up late. MASSIVE headache. Ate some waffles and drank water. Thought I was feeling better so I did my laundry. Halfway through putting my clothes on clotheslines....HURLED up my pancakes and mozzarella sticks.

Now feel better. Mentally preparing for tomorrow's Rub. Tomorrow's SOBER Rub.

Or SOBER-ish.

Drunken Reminiscing

From like 6 or 7 years back, my boys in The Dugout performing an old hit(with a cameo by me at around the 3:15 mark). Good olde times.



Now back to nursing my minor furniture building, rum drinking hangover.....UGGGHHH!

The Rub- October 2010

Shenanigans. Let's play a game. It's called Where's Drunk Arse Sean?
Find him....
Here's some hints-
dsc_0192 pic 1 page 5
DSC_0151 pic 7 page 5
The Rub on pic 6 page 8

Happy St. Paddy's Day!

Checking my wallet and it looks like my liver is safe this year.
In the meantime, enjoy this snippet from last year with some pals.
SLAINTE!


Next year it's McDonald's Shamrock Shakes mixed with Smirnoff for me.

Sober(ish)....

By circumstances that vary as to whether they are under my control or not, I've been pretty sober(ish). Basically, I'm broke so can't go out unless it's a major event that I have to be out, i.e. a friend's birthday.
So, I don't know when I'll be updating this one but probably won't be any time soon. If I do, I'll announce it on All Sean Fields.
Til then, drink up for me.

Sober Superbowl

Didn't drink this year. Game was not as exciting, commercials were not as good and life was not as sweet.
Wings DID rock as usual though.

Dirty 30th

“I don’t need a birthday cause I buy myself all the presents I need. And because of my drinking, they’re often a surprise.”

So, obviously, I'm back to drinking. Been back for awhile but nowhere as extreme as I used to be.

Except for the weekend of November 28th.



I turned 30 and figured I would drink a little more than usual. I planned on making it a small affair (vastly different from my 29th birthday Drink Debacle where I talked to people I didn't remember and gave a speech on the merits of soup). That plan kinda worked out.

What I didn't plan on was the friends I invited. They are my usual NYC drinking pals. Let's just call em Darth Fader (Lord of the Fifth), Shots, Drink King and Drink Twin.

About how many beers later and random tequila/patrons shots later, I was being dragged away from an unattractive girl in a club that I didn't remember, almost losing a 20 in the subway and passing out on my cousin's inflatable air mattress.

So, the usual. Good times.

If you want to see pics, hit me up or go to my Facebook page and look under my 30th BDay Night.

Enjoy.

What I hear...

...after I've been drinking heavily and am going home alone and just think to myself.

So It Continues...

For the fifth or maybe it's the sixth night/day, my roommate's drinking and eating and not giving a crap about the general reality of affairs continues. I find it amusing that I can leave the house in the morning or afternoon and come home to a completely new female face sitting on the couch. Plus, I sometimes get free food out of the whole she-bang.

All of this is inspiring me to work harder to get out of the spot.

I mean he is nice enough but this depressing behavior even when he does have fun can seriously harsh my sober life buzz. Additionally, he gets pissy with others (not me) and that quickly annoys.

So, I hope he enjoys this time of drinking, having fun and being unemployed. It usually doesn't last but maybe he is one of those people that has figured out how to keep it going.

Me? I have to deal with this thing called adulthood and reality.

The 24 packs in my fridge yell for me.
They say "Come. Drink us, brother. Forget your problems for a mere marvelous, miraculous moment." (like the alliteration?)

But I continue to resist their siren song. I would like to think I'm better for it.

No Lyin', Just Cougars, I'm Clear, Oh My....

Three day weekend. Well, really a two day weekend for me since I work on Saturdays. Either way, an extra day to pretend like you are going to catch up on things to be done but really an excuse to sit around and accomplish nothing or go out and party for an extra night. Most likely, with mass quantities of alcohol consumed.

I mean that's what Abe Lincoln and the rest of the crew were all about, right?

"IT'S A CELEBRATION, BITCHES!"

So, here I am, sober, with a three-day weekend. Not planning on leaving the house, my Valentine's is far away and I'm ashy. Plus, I have worked to be accomplished. I think the old white men who ruled this country would want me to get some stuff done and I'm pretty sure the black guy we got now would as well.

I missed my friend's party for her birthday on Friday (sorry, Red) and I was committed to getting things done. Had just came back from work on Saturday and was actually busting some good stuff out. During the night, as I was slowing down, my roommate asked if I wanted to go to the Yardhouse with him and a lady friend. Mind you, it's Valentine's Day and the last thing I wanted to be was a third wheel to a couple.....
But, free food. I was in.
His girl comes home and we go out.

This is the part of the story where I tell those unfamiliar with the place a little about Yardhouse. Nice place. Food is good if a lil pricey at times. Hot 20-30 year olds roam the place and the older ladies come down to drink a beer or three before they go upstairs to Blue Martini aka The Cougar Den.

ROWR!!!

Oh. Did I mention this place has the world's largest selection of draft beers?
Yeah. THE FUCKIN' WORLD.

Some of that WORLD beer.

I still went because a)free food and b)knew this would be a challenge I would need to face. I remember the last time I puked came when I went to this place to begin my night and Irish car-bombed myself into oblivion.

I had to face down this demon. This oh so delicious demon....

My roommate orders food and spends most of the time complaining how he is the only one drinking because I'm not and his friend is driving us. He is drinking some Sam Adams Cherry Wheat which just smells good and has a name that makes me think of dessert. I want a drink but stop myself and my roommate continues to drink as he repeats
"I'm Samuel Jackson and this is my beer! Mmmm-mmm, bitch!"
That helps the sobriety go down easier.

One of these guys looks like my roomie. Guess which one?


We go home, he gets emo and another Saturday is liquor free. Yay, me!

Sunday rolls around and I stay in the whole day as my roommate takes another girl and his friend to the 'House again and a few other spots. I'm sleeping when they arrive home but wake up quickly from the ruckus they are causing. Normally, on a Sunday night I would get up and say "Shut the FUCK UP!" but it is a three day weekend and everyone sounds like they are in a good mood so I let it ride. I turn over and pass out.

Monday rolls around and I'm up and everyone is in a good mood except the roommate but whatever. I'm trying to do some work (really just watching this over and over) when I start to hang with the roommate's friend, M. Santos.* I get along good with this kid and we can shoot the shit for awhile. He is waiting for my roommate to drop him off on the way to an interview. The girl is waiting for her older friend to pick her up.
A friend who has told her, after meeting me for maybe a total of seven minutes, "I want to bone him."

This friend is 40.

Yeah. This is familiar.

Now, don't get me wrong. There is NOTHING wrong with an experienced lady. I have "hung out" with a few in my time and enjoyed myself. And she wasn't bad looking.

But I wasn't going to do it.

There are numerous reasons for this (one more important than the others) but I'll share three with you.

1) She was coming to pick up her 19 year-old friend. Now, there is nothing inherently wrong with this. If said 19 year-old is very mature for her age, I can see it. This is not the case. On top of that, you are forty and still living at home? Ehhhh. I really shouldn't be one to judge but that isn't in my gameplan.

2) She said "I want to bone him." That's what she said. Verbatim. Not as a joke either. For some reason, that is very rarely a turn-on phrase for me. Only works if you say it in a joking manner-not seriously as you eye-rape me.

3) I was stone-cold sober. Okay, that shouldn't be a factor but I have realized that being tipsy has impaired my judgment greatly in the past. I have done asinine things before because of booze or as a result of using booze as an excuse to act like an ass. I knew if I went forward with this a)I would causing myself a big headache in the longer run and b)I wouldn't have the flimsy excuse of liquor to fall back on.

My liver thanked me, my penis hated me and my brain and heart said "Good Job."
My male friends (mostly) looked at me incredulously and my female friends (mostly) said I made a good move and that's when I had that epiphany on Twitter-

Men understand when you do something and women get when you don't do something.



So, I guess I'm learning a little something by not drinking. And, as Martha Stewart says, "That's a good thing."

Then, again, maybe I shouldn't quote that woman.


*Fake name, of course.

V.D. Is Becoming A Pandemic- UPDATE

(this is another one that could potentially go in my other blog but as it concerns drinking and is more lighthearted I’ll put it here)

Didn’t go to the Las Vegas Twestival this Thursday (but it was for a good cause) and I’m debating going out for my co-worker’s birthday. I would but these are the problems with being sans vehicle, broke and not really wanting to hang out with roommate and one of his girls on Valentine’s Day Eve.

Which brings us to the topic at hand- Valentine’s Day.

Yay....

Valentine’s Day (for those of you who missed the Hallmark inspired class about it in 2nd grade) is the traditional day on which lovers express their love for each other by sending overpriced cards (here, to help you poor, cheap, funny, procrastinating chumps) , spending money on flowers that don’t last or offering treats to fatten up your loved ones so they have no one else to go to. Maybe I’m just cynical. Who knows? It is really supposed to be a day of being with your loved one/ones and is full of joy and happiness.

It sucks. Actually, it has the dubious distinction of both sucking and blowing.

Now, it doesn’t necessarily have to suck. If you are in a relationship/ dating/ hooking up with a regular bus station skank, then this day can be awesome for you. It is full of long glances, hand holding and taking a fun-filled trip to the free clinic to pick up your meds to treat the special case of “love” you received from the aforementioned bus skank. Truly a beautiful day.

If you are single, it’s another tale entirely.

Usually you spend the day either commiserating with fellow losers…ehhh, I mean, loners who are also by themselves on this day. This can be fun if said loners are your pals and you are funny and/or confident enough to deal with the cheesy lovey-dovey things you are going to encounter.

Unfortunately, 7 times out of 10, your friends have the maturity and ability to actually convince and/or trick some poor soul into being with them. If this is the case, then you are going to have the bittersweet pleasure of either not hearing from that pal for the whole day or you will be witness to what you can’t get because of some deficiency in your stunted social skills. The worst, of course, is when your friend sucks worse than you and somehow manages to snag someone. Either way, sucks for you, buddy.

Ouch.

What does this have to do with drinking?

Simple really. Valentine’s Day is the day when the most alcohol is consumed. [citation needed] It’s a stone cold fact.

Think about it. Couples are sipping crates of champagne and other assorted boozes. Lonely people are having their“We Are Alone and (Angrily) Happy About That” parties with PLENTY of liks. Then you have the bar goers either drinking to forget their pain and find a hook-up or looking for people drinking their pain away to hook-up with them.

I, as you should all know by now, will be sober. Roommates are hanging out with their ladies. Not trying to hook-up and won’t drink.

So,if you are in a happy relationship, have a good time….lucky bastards. If you are single, drunkenly hook up with someone in my name. Just don’t find me if the person you thought you went home with isn’t the person you wake up with.

Oh, it happens.

Besides, you don't have to go back to work until Tuesday so just do as Ludacris does and keep it moving.
Fun times abound on a three-day weekend.

UPDATE- was told that maybe I was a tad negative and bitter in this one.
Well...Yeah. I was. Sue me.
Was tired after work and didn't exactly look forward to being alone on V-Day when I was missing someone.
Anyway, here's something more upbeat if you want. Enjoy yo'self!

Whew!

There but for the grace of God go I.
See? This is exactly why although I might get moody about it, I'm SO glad I took a break from all those wicked vine/potato/wheat/honey concoctions.

http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-1136287/One-night-stand-man-wakes-lover-carved-arm.html

I really don't want to have to choke anyone in the morning. That's not a good look.