Free Form Writing Odyssey

I’m not proud of how many tries it took me to type “odyssey” before I got it right (right click is for quitters).

I just tried to make stir fry and it sucked, so now I’m going to make a post with no purpose and no comprehensible plan. It may come as a surprise to many that I actually put quite a bit of thought into these posts, but this one I’m just going to swing for the fences and hope for the best (much like Aaron Judge, suck it Yankees fans!)

I had a birthday this week. Many consider me young but I have the mentality of a 75 year old man so this may as well be a death sentence. I should clarify, I’m not one of these “anti-birthday” people that hate their birthdays, but to me I often forget about my own birthday until someone reminds me, and I then I say “Oh yeah, neat,” and then I go to work.

Birthdays can be fun, but I often have more fun at other people’s birthdays than my own, but this last week was perfect, I stayed at home, grilled some steaks, enjoyed a moderately priced bourbon, and went to bed after watching a baseball game, fucking perfect. To some, this may sound boring, but this what I love. If I am blessed enough to have a pleasant afterlife every day will be like this.

However, my wife LOVES her birthday, like to an extreme level. She could be actively murdering someone and would say: “But it’s my birthday!” and then I’d allow her to return to her murder. And that’s fine with me because I like celebrating her birthday with her. This year I brought her to a concert, we had dinner after, and stayed in a gorgeous hotel in downtown Minneapolis, another great evening, but very different from my own.

I’m going to be honest, I have no clue where I’m going with this post, I just wanted to write some shit. We’re working on a huge merger at work and that’s all I can think about, but I love doing this so I need to write something to distract myself. Our next post will be better I promise.

How do you like to spend your birthday? Do you like simplicity like myself, or are your a flashy individual much like my wife? Let me know, let’s talk about it.

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Rock and Roll Dinner

Have you ever been so broke you considered selling your body for money, but then remembered you’re not attractive enough to sell your body, so you just lay down and go to bed? This was my life throughout all of my twenties. I worked a horrible job to pay bills while I attempted to make money as a writer. I shared a house with two other guys that were in a fairly similar position as myself. One was a paralegal and the other was a security guard. The paralegal made decent enough money, but he was really bad with his money, so he was forced to live with two degenerates that ate his food (I love you Glenn, if you ever read this you’re a damn prince).

As some of you know, I was thrown out of my home when I was a teenager (READ OUR “First Annual America Day” post for more info). As a result of being a teenage runaway I didn’t have much money. One night after work I was so hungry and the only food available was Ramen noodles, old bread, and granola bars. But then I remembered I had a bottle of bourbon in my sock drawer for emergencies, because who needs anything other than bourbon for emergencies?

I then proceeded to drink the entire bottle while listening to my old records. I started with Mercyful Fate and inevitably ended with King Diamond solo stuff. It was an epic night filled with alcohol and great music. My roommates found me later passed out in my room listening to Metal Church. They can’t all be winners. But this ill-advised night of alcohol induced hunger created one of the best events of my life “Rock and Roll Dinner.”

To this day my friends come over every month for one day where we get unbelievably drunk and listen to classic albums. It’s the best shit ever. I encourage everyone to have there own Rock and Roll Dinners. Even if you like country music (or anything really) have your friends over, get drunk, and listen to some good music. I promise you will NOT regret this choice.

I love you all. Get drunk and listen to music. Just listen to more music period.

There’s a Bar in my Bathroom

As the title sates, there is indeed a bar in my bathroom. It’s a staple I have installed in every establishment that has housed my physical body, and one of the many reasons why the bathroom is my favorite room of any home (well, favorite room in MY home).

Having a bathroom is important, but having a bathroom bar is more important. You ever had a drink in the shower? It’s fantastic. DISCLAIMER make sure it’s a night shower and not a pre-work morning shower, people to tend to throw around words like “alcoholic” if that’s the case.

I should mention, this is not a fancy bar. It’s comprised of cheap liquor bottles and a small table I bought at IKEA. Lovely table. I’m a big fan. Since I already keep booze in my bathroom I also on occasion keep beer under my sink. I’m not a big beer drinker, I prefer hard liquor, no preference, whatever gets my drunk. With beer however, I’m very picky. I enjoy drinking silly hipster brews in moderation and pretending I know what I’m talking about when in actuality I’m quite possibly the most uninformed person in the room.

“Hmmm, yes this beer tastes as if it was made using hops and malt,” he said trying to pretend he knows anything.

Since I keep beer under my bathroom sink next to cleaning chemicals and my gun, there’s really no great way to keep it cold so I have grown to develop a love for warm beer (with a nice after taste of chemicals). I’m going to be honest, warm beer gets a bad reputation. I think it’s delicious. I like it so much I made a Tweet about it last night. FYI if you people read this and are also on Twitter FOLLOW ME IMMEDIATELY OUR FEED IS FUNNY AS FUCK!!! @ViridianReader.

Warm beers delicious. Cold beer is solid as well, but if you haven’t tried warm beer I highly suggest it, but don’t try it with some big brand beer that sponsors sporting events such as a brand that rhymes with “Poors Flight” you know what Poors Flight and sex in a canoe have in common? They’re both fucking close to water *Rim Shot*.

Have something thick and hoppy. Something dark and thick (also how I like my women). What’s your opinion on warm beer? Have you tried it? Did you like it? If not, why? Let’s talk about it. Drink more and sex more. Life is fun, and I love you all. Have a good night.

We Are Who We Are

Allow me a quick moment to part the kimono if you will. I wanted to take a brief moment to thank every goddamn person that has taken the time to read the dumb shit we post on here. We want to have fun and I have nothing but love for every single one of you.

If you look at our post history, there’s a three year gap from 2014 to now. That’s because this originally started as college project between myself and a few friends of mine to share our collegiate creative writing endeavors. I then forgot this blog existed for three years until April and I wanted to start writing again. I want this blog to be a fun place to read stupid stuff, and if you want a good laugh, go read the old shit from 2014 when my friends and I were trying to be writers. Once more, I love you all and thank you for your never ending support in all our perpetually stupid articles.

I mean, I guess?

Sex is fun, especially when you’re young (I mean, it’s always awesome, but especially when it’s new). When I was a young sir coming up in this world, I wanted to do everything (read “Tomorrow’s Trash Day”). The beautiful young woman I was seeing was… let’s say adventurous, SIDE NOTE this is the same girl from “Tomorrow’s Trash Day” seriously, read that fucking story if you want a better appreciation for this shit.

Her and I legitimately believed we were going to be together forever (young love right?) so we decided we were going to do every stupid sexual thing we could think of. One night we’re in my parents basement (I was in high school don’t judge me) and we were, let’s say, having some innocent fun, until she stops in the middle and goes:

“I have an idea.”

“Okay?” I say very confused and somewhat frustrated because my penis had been rubbing against the inside of my jeans for forty five minutes and I though it was going to fall off.

“Give me one minute,” she says before disappearing upstairs only to return seconds later with a jug of chocolate syrup and a can of whipped cream.

“Let’s make sundaes,” she says with a big grin.

Now, I’m a very dumb man, but even I understood what she meant, and yet the first thing I said was:

“What if it makes a mess?” at the end of the day, I’m always an idiot.

“That’s just a risk we’ll have to take,” easy for her to say, this was my parents house.

I don’t know if any of you have ever actually tried this, but let me tell you from experience, it’s a fucking mess. I do NOT recommend this sexual practice.

We start drizzling chocolate and whipped cream over one another and this shit is getting EVERYWHERE. The floor looked like a Jackson Pollock painting and my chest felt like the business end of a strip of scotch tape. We eventually felt gross and made sweet sticky love to one another on the now abysmal floor, but otherwise I have nothing good to say about this experience. I heavily advise against it.

 

An Open Letter to Smash Burger

I just made stuffed mushrooms while listening to Primus’ first alum. Let’s get weird.

I had Smash Burger yesterday. Never had it before. Probably won’t have it again. It’s not a bad place, in fact it’s pretty good, but it just isn’t good enough for me to go back (especially when there’s a Five Guys closer to my apartment).

For those of you lucky enough to not be “in the know” about Smash Burger, it’s a burger place. That’s all you need to know. I wanted to  try something new and every person I know continuously recommended Smash Burger so I finally gave in to their demands and tried it (never give in to peer pressure kids). I arrived and quickly caught on to how things work, you pick a burger and order it, simple enough. Here’s a direct transcript from my visit:

“What can I get for you?” The waitress is young and very sweet, almost sickeningly so.

“I’ll have the barbecue bacon burger meal,” despite my stoic face I’m very excited.

“What kind of meat would you like?” This question confuses me more than I’d care to admit.

“Meat? Isn’t it all cow?” I say instead of saying “beef” like a normal fucking person.

“Well you can do beef if you want, but there’s also chicken, turkey, and black bean.” This makes me happy, I love a good turkey burger.

“I’ll have turkey instead.”

“Great! Would you like Smash Fries with your burger?”

“The fuck are those?” I ask without thinking about perhaps talking like a decent non-aggressive person.

“They’re our regular fries with oil and spices,”

“Sure why not?”

I pay and take a seat while I wait for my food. They have Diet Dr. Pepper on tap, I like this. Every place should be required to have DDP available.

When my food arrives I am immediately disappointed. The burger is so small I want to ask my waiter if this is the appetizer for my actual burger, and apparently “Smash Fries” is simply code for wet diarrhea fries. The burgers actually quite good, and at risk of sounding so terribly American, it is very small, and the fries are rubbish. It’s just a wet pile of hot oil on my tray.

Smash Burger, it’s not that you’re terrible, it’s just… There’s a lot of better places. I’d rather give my money to Five Guys.

 

Mistakes Were Made (Part Three)

DISCLAIMER: DO NOT DO ANYTHING IN THE FOLLOWING STORY. DRINKING IS DANGEROUS AND I’M A PROFESSIONAL IDIOT. JUST READ MY STORIES AND HAVE FUN. DO NOT COPY ME IN ANY WAY. PLEASE.

I told you three was coming hopefully this will be the conclusion because I’m getting bored of this story and want to write something else.

Against my compatriots best wishes and attempts to stop me, I grabbed a Blender Bottle from the cupboard (my preferred drinking vessel), and started with the absinthe. The newly clear liquid rolled over the ice in my cup and lined the bottom portion. It was now time or the Everclear.

I poured, let’s say a generous portion of Everclear in my glass, and filled the empty space with water. Why water? Let me answer that with yet another disclaimer because I swear to God, if anyone is this stupid I will be very disappointed in you: DON NOT DO THIS EVER. PLEASE.

I used to top drinks with water because then I could use water enhancers to mask the flavor of the alcohol without having to add anything too sugary. I thought I was a genius.

My concoction was complete, one third absinthe, one third Everclear, and one third grape flavored water enhancer. It was truly disgusting but I did not care one bit.

We didn’t have a party that night,thank God, so my brothers and I decided to ahve a chill night with some friends, the entire time I was sipping my garbage concoction and slowly losing my grip with reality. This shit is was no joke. I found some gentleman I had never seen before and made him a similar beverage to mine, and he and I sample our liquid trash while having a wonderful conversation. I have vivid memories of this conversation being very fun and poignant, but my friend had been recording us all night and upon review of the film in the morning, the things this man and I had been saying were absolute nonsense. I mean complete gibberish. I though we were being very eloquent and smart and it turns out we were merely making a series of sounds that translated into drunken nonsense. I then passed out while watching Dallas Buyers Club and woke up in a bath tub with one of the worst hangovers of my life. Long story short, don’t drink kids. It’s the worst.