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.

Mistakes Were Made (Part Two)

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.

God damn! I completely forgot about this story. It’s been a crazy couple of weeks. I don’t apologize, because I doubt anyone cared or noticed but here’s the conclusion you filthy bastards.

If memory serves correct, I had just finished trying the absinthe poured over sugar and it was so good. Like liquor candy. After trying the diluted absinthe I began running through the halls like witch on acid demanding everyone come into the kitchen and try this crazy magic drink Adam brought back home. Most people wretched at the idea or outright refused, fuck them, more for me. After about three or four more shots I started getting rowdy. For those of you that have been lucky enough not to be around me when I drink, I am a very destructive alcoholic. I can either be very fun or the Tasmanian Devil from Looney Tunes. Take a guess which one I become in this story.

I was a complete mess; I ripped one of the bathroom doors of the wall and kicked a hole in another one. Doors did not have a very long lifespan in our house. I don’t want to sound like Hercules, because there are an infinite number of people in this world that can kick my ass (men and women alike) these were cheap ass doors that were made with sub-par materials.

“Let’s mix them together!” I shouted now having returned to the kitchen.

“What?!” Ken and Adam said almost in unison.

“Together, the Everclear and absinthe,” I stated once more. They were both speechless and merely exchanged a series or confused and worried glances trying to figure if A) I was being serious, and B) what the fuck should they say. Keep in mind, I’m a very large man, at least 300 pounds, and I love to fight so I completely understand their hesitation to reply. Ken decided to be brave:

“I mean, I think you could die man. That’s like the purest alcohol. Next to like, rubbing alcohol.”

“Die?!” I started, “I’m a fucking viking warlord! I’ll be fine.”

SIDENOTE: I’m half Finnish so when I get drunk I like to refer to myself as a viking even though I don’t think there were any Finnish vikings. If any of you have more knowledge on this subject please comment and educate me because I’m an idiot that went to college on a football scholarship, therefore I’m the epitome of a dumb jock.

“Bro,” Adam chimed in, “This is some dangerous shit. I mean, you can drink like a champ, but this is a really bad idea.” I stared at both of them for what felt like an eternity.

“I’ll be fine, let’s do this,” the famous last words of an idiot.

PART THREE COMING RIGHT NOW. I JUST WANT TO AVOID WRITING ONE MASSIVE PIECE. I PROMISE THREE IS COMING TONIGHT. STAY TUNED YOU FILTHY BASTARDS.

 

Am I the Worst?

So apparently I’m the worst. Which didn’t necessarily come as a surprise to me, but was certainly disappointing to hear.

Some background, I LOVE talking during movies. Not like in the theater, only at home. If I’m in a movie theater I am more than capable of shutting the fuck up, but if I’m watching a movie in my home with friends, I will talk as much as I want. Apparently, many people hate this about me and a handful have gone as far to say they will only watch a movie with me if I promise not to talk (I almost always break this promise).

What could I possibly be talking about you might wonder? I’m glad I asked. My typical commentary ranges from general conversation, jokes about the movies, or my favorite line: “How do I know that person?” which is almost always answered with: “I don’t know, and will you please stop talking?” I don’t stop talking.

Again, this is NOT in public or at someone else’s place this is only within my home. Do I have the right to talk as much as I want during a screening in my own residence or should I be considerate and shut my gob?

To be fair, there are usually a handful of people that enjoy my commentary, but I get the feeling the majority wants to kick my ass.

What do you Think?

I’m going to try and keep this brief, but my wife and I were having a conversation and it was too amusing not to share. So enjoy this momentary invitation into my private life.

I’ve always wanted to name one of my future sons “Aiden Arthur” because my last name starts with an “A” thus making him “Triple A,” or Trip as i would most certainly call him, and my wife apparently does not care for this concept because she feels this name will make him, as she so eloquently said it, a douche.

My question is, can a name influence you as a person? To my wife’s credit, I once date a girl named Tiara and she was a giant, high maintenance, princess, pain in my ass. So perhaps there’s some validity to her concerns, but for fuck’s sake I want to call my son Trip!

Mistakes Were Made (Part One)

I’m sure it comes as no surprise to anyone that I love to drink (I’m almost always drunk when I write something for this blog. Hence the litany of typos that I refuse to change even after I sober up because I don’t care and no one reads these devil words that closely anyway).

I’m pretty sure I’ve consumed just about every type of alcohol available, and if you’re like me (an alcoholic) then you have probably made some drink combinations that were vile and could peel the paint off a boat, but you probably also finished said drink only to have some sort of negative consequences. This is one of my favorite times.

(Frat story approaching just FYI)

So two of my brothers, Ken and Adam (neither of their real names), were going on simultaneous trips and I had a rule at our house, if you go to another state you have to bring back a local beer (I’m a huge fan of cool local brews if you’ve never read my yelp page which I highly recommend). Instead of beer, they both brought me something much better. Ken brought Everclear (the real stuff not that cheap garbage they sell in Minnesota) and Adam brought a bottle of absinthe (I’m assuming not legit absinthe that makes you hallucinate and shit but it was still pretty damn cool.) Naturally, my reaction was like when I’d wake up on Christmas morning and my parents had stayed awake all night to build some giant elaborate toy or structure for my siblings and I. Alcohol is adult Christmas. God bless my parents and God bless my former housemates.

First thing I did was rip the cap off the Everclear and pour shots (because I’m a sadist.) Now, regular vodka is bad enough to do shots with but Everclear should not be allowed on store shelves, this shit serves no purpose except to make large batch death brew for an awful party. Ken and Adam immediately refused the shots but being the housemaster (and much larger) I made them. They both wretched at the smell and nearly died from the taste while I couldn’t control my violent laughter.

“Let’s try the absinthe!” I shouted like a viking warlord thirsty for blood. They both responded with pained groans but ultimately agreed.

Absinthe is so cool. It came with this medieval spoon and it’s fucking green! It looks like something from a science fiction movie. I pulled the cork out and started to pour a drink for myself.

“I don’t think that’s how it works,”  Ken said hesitantly.

“Yeah he’s right bro,” Adam chimed in, “You have to use that spoon and pour it over sugar.”

“Sugar?!” I yell/ask.

“Yeah bro, sugar.”

“Well fuck that! I’m on Atkins!” I yelled as I continued to pour the absinthe into the nearest vessel by me. (SIDE NOTE: I was not on Atkins and I have no idea what Atkins is even to this day).

The green liquid smelled awful,for those that don’t know, absinthe has a very distinct black liquorice flavor, but that didn’t stop me from downing the green substance in one painful swallow.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Adam said.

“Fuck you, it’s the best idea,”I’m such a clever drunk.

Adam then proceeded to place a sugar cube on the fancy spoon and pour the absinthe over it into another glass and it became clear! Fucking clear! This stuff is so cool. It tasted much better with the sugar. I was proven wrong once again.

END OF PART ONE.

Deal with it. Part two will be out shortly. I didn’t want to write one long alcohol saga so I made a multi part epic. Enjoy this while I sleep off my hangover.

 

After School Special

“Come on man, you’re going to love it I promise,” Jake said while holding a marijuana pipe in his hand.

I had never done anything beyond having too much to drink so this was quite a new experience for me despite being in my twenties. The idea of drugs still seemed scary and dangerous as all those teachers in grade school had made it seem. Indeed, I was a truly ignorant child.

“I swear, you’re going to love it,” Jake assured once more as he handed me his pipe.

“I don’t even know what to do,” I said both honestly and ashamed at my inexperience.

“It’s easy, just put your thumb over the hole on the side, light the top, and take a big inhale. It’s just that easy.” I did just as he instructed.

As the smoke traveled through my mouth down my throat it felt as if a thousand very sharp knives were stabbing my esophagus. I coughed instantly and Jake began laughing hysterically.

“That was really good,” he said, the pride beaming from his eyes knowing he had taken my narcotics virginity.

“Let’s go for a drive,” he said with a big grin on his face.

We jumped in his hot rod and began cruising down country roads taking rips off his pipe. I felt like I was the coolest person in the universe.

I wish I could say we got into all sorts of drug addled shenanigans or got arrested and make this a cautionary tale, but we didn’t. We drove around, smoked pot, went home and watched a television documentary about super volcanoes. At some point in the night I switched to alcohol and passed out on the couch. I woke up the next morning to find Jake sleeping in the bath tub. Apparently he finished our vodka and thought the tub was a safe place to sleep. Moral of the story, drugs are fun.

Are You Serious?

I’m going to keep this brief, but this moment was so batshit insane I had talk about it.

I’m not an old man, but I am older than a lot of my coworkers (technically subordinates, but I’m not a dick so I would never use that term).

There’s two twenty something girls in my “pod” as they call it, a “pod” is basically just an open work area designated for people that share a similar purpose, and these two girls LOVE to go out to lunch together (I have to listen to this shit every week):

“Where do you want to go?”

“There’s this new bistro that supposed to be good.”

“Let’s go here.”

“No, let’s go here.”

THIS GOES ON FOR FOUR HOURS!!!!!!! EVERY WEEK.

This last week they went to Arby’s. Fucking Arby’s. Think about this. They went to a place that’s perpetually awful BY CHOICE. But that’s not why I wrote this. Here’s the actual transcript that lead to this conclusion:

“Where should we go today?”

“Have you ever been to Arby’s?”

“No, what’s that?”

“It’s amazing, we should go there.”

“What do they serve?”

“Like sandwiches and stuff.”

“Like Subway?”

“Kinda but this is better. It’s hot and the curly fries will change your life.”

THE CURLY FRIES WILL CHANGE YOUR LIFE.

This statement just made the CEO of Arby’s life complete. So congratulations girls, Steven Arby’s can now die happy (I have no idea who the CEO of Arby’s is and I don’t care enough to look).

Her life is going to change because she ate fast food curly fries. I’m going to let that sink in while I abstain from the urge to slap my co-workers.