Strutted into some kegger last night like I owned the place with a couple of pals. They strutted in like they owned the place, too. I was already mostly drunk, but I had some shitty keg beer anyway. Well, it came time to try to steal the keg, but the party was still totally full of people so we had a challenge ahead of us. One idea was to have one friend find the circuit breaker and turn off the power, at which point the other friend and I would carry the keg through the darkness repeating stuff like "look out! I gotta puke!" in an attempt to clear the path. That plan was vetoed and we went for the less complicated "just try to walk out with the keg" method. We got pretty far. People would yell "hey, what the fuck are you doing with the keg?" and we'd just say it was empty. Most of them submitted that easily. One particularly cranky girl grabbed hold of it with one hand while we were still carrying it and kind of tried to lift it up and down a little. Apparently, her made-up test served her wrong, because she subsequently agreed that it was empty while that was far from the truth. Anyway, we were about ten feet from the alley when the only person I knew there, who also happened to live there, came running up carrying on about all the usual stuff girls normally say when I am drunk and having fun at their expense. Some other girl said something about getting out and never coming back as she shoved me with her weak upper body. Her shove was more like a slowed down, heavy stroke. It's hard to explain, but it exuded frailty. Tom yelled, "How could I come back? I don't even know how I got here!" Currently, that is my favorite getting kicked out of a party line. All we could do was laugh all the way home, without keg, and then I went and bought a burrito. It was good but not great.
I am too fat for my pants. I used to be halfway in shape but too much work and cheap beer has softened me into a tender, flabby, meat statue. My pants do not comfortably button anymore. So, I was leaving them unbuttoned for a couple of days. I would walk around work with this little nub out in front of me where the unbuttoned portion jutted out. It was working fine until I realized that it looked like I constantly had a three inch erection, so now I just suck my fat in and button up anyway. It's no fun.
Okay, assholes, I have joined your ranks. I have a cell phone. I sold out. I fought the good fight for many years, but my land line became so expensive that it was no longer practical, even taking into account the enormous source of pride I had by not being one of you constantly available, small talking zombies who unattentively multi-task their way through all of life's trivialities. I can now be reached while shopping for groceries, renting movies, driving, drinking at the bar, and so on. A lot of people, namely moms, say that they "need" their cell phones when they fall into the line of my criticism. For people like them, I have compiled a short list of things that have been done before the relatively recent invention of cell phones.
Billions of children were born and raised normally.
The tank was invented.
"The Street Fighter," starring Sonni Chiba, was filmed.
World War II.
Whisky was invented.
My parents swapped fuck juice and built me.
Lots of bridges and cars were built, and bridges are probably hard to build.
Somebody probably killed a bat.
The Oregon Trail and shit.
Columbus did all his stuff, even though he was an asshole.
And so on. So, you see, just because your kids have soccer practice at different places after school doesn't mean that you all "need" cell phones. Just grow an attention span and manage to keep track of where you are during the day. Dick.
Having a cell phone is also ruining my career goals. My ideal career was a multiple step plan that went something like this:
1: don't have a cell phone
2: wait a couple of decades until everyone with a cell phone dies of brain cancer caused by directly broadcasting electronic signals from one piece of metal, through their heads, and to another piece of metal miles away dozens of times daily
3: now that I'm the last person alive, drive all over the country blasting heavy metal, raiding liquor stores, and starting fires as I please
Now I can't do that. I'm gonna be just one more jerk-off in the brain cancer ward. Ugh. Maybe I will go back to a landline, despite the fact that it costs over three times as much.
I called in sick today because I am sick. My girlfriend and I went camping for some days, and the second night we ran out of water. In a drunken stuper, I fumbled through all of the garbage in my car in search of something drinkable. I scored a half bottle of iced tea and drank some. Iced tea is supposed to be refrigerated after opening. This was not refrigerated whatsoever in the two months since it had been opened. In fact, it had been in my car the entire time, usually exposed to direct sunlight, providing an ideal habitat for bacteria that don't do well with cheap beer and stomach acid, I discovered through trial and error. I didn't puke until the car ride home. The lady was driving because I was fixed in a fetal position. I vomited repeatedly out the window, and she asked if she should pull over. I said no, because the motion helped me expell more unwanted fluids. I expelled them all over the side of my car, of course, but that's okay. My girlfriend thought it was gross that my beard was caked with thick, green vomit (Think split pea soup) so I wiped it clean with a wet sock that I found on the back seat. She thought that was gross, too. I guess that's camping, though.
really old months: