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.

Advertisements

Fight or Flight

Welp, it’s that time of year again. Once Labor Day’s over you autumn crazed fucks start celebrating the fall. Seriously, why are you all so bat shit insane over fucking sweaters and warm drinks? Football’s cool and everything but you people lose your dicks over autumn. I heard the two girls from my office (from the Arby’s story, can’t remember the name, bonus points if you can find it and tell me the name of my own story) they were already talking about haunted houses and hayrides.

I try to not involve myself with their idiotic conversations for fear of becoming even dumber than I already am, but the entire time I was sitting at my desk biting my tongue trying to ignore them. Why are haunted houses a thing? I understand it’s fun to be scared, but I have never once been scared by a haunted house, there’s no element of fear with a sixteen year old in a rubber mask.

Every year my wife and I go to a very popular haunted house in our state with some friends and every year I absolutely hate it. They all cower behind me as I shove my way past frightened idiots and cheap decorations jumping our from around corners. The big finale to the experience is a maze that has a gentleman running around with a chainsaw trying to “kill” you while you search for the exit. Last year, my wife and I found the exit and the chainsaw man jumped from behind a corner and my wife completely froze, by this point I was completely aggravated and wanted this experience to be over and this jackass was preventing me from leaving so I did the only thing I could think of, I elbowed him in the face. As he fell to the ground I grabbed my wife’s wrist, yelled “Come on!” and we left. As we’re leaving all I could hear is “What the hell man?” from the chainsaw guy as he grabbed his face.

I thank God everyday that I avoided assault charges, not my proudest moment (I’m a little proud of this story) but in the end I managed to elbow a grown man in the face and avoid jail.

Suck it Losers (Part Six)

I feel like I need theme music at this point. Thank you to everyone that continues to read this stupid series of sports posts.

Kyrie Irving is officially a Celtic in a trade that appears one sided upon first glance, but when one takes the time to consider the outcome, actually favors both teams quite well.

In my opinion, Lebron James is now left with no excuses to not succeed. He just received an excellent guard, a great two way forward, a draft pick that has a very god possibility of becoming a number pick depending how shitty the Nets are this year (which is probably God awful) as well as some guy with a strange name I had never heard of prior to this trade taking place. And the Celtics receive one of the most elite young guards in the game.

A lot of people have said two things in response to this trade (a lot of people have said a lot of things but these are the two I’ve heard the most): 1. The Celtics gave too much, and 2. The Celtics blew their playoff chances. First of all, NO the Celtics did not give too much to receive one of the best young talents in the game, seriously, this dude is so young and look how much he’s done already, the sky’s the limit for this kid. Secondly, ARE YOU FUCKING INSANE?! Look what conference the Celtics are in. If they played in the West maybe not, but they’re in the East, as long as Irving stays healthy, they can make it to the playoffs comfortably even having a 50-50 record because the Eastern Conference is goddamn joke. If Lebron James can at least hold a basketball, The Cavaliers are going to play in the conference finals every year.

I like this trade a lot, it makes the East a little more interesting, not so much competitive but definitely an interesting story line. The number one thing to remember, don’t ever forget: THE TIMBERWOLVES ARE GOING TO BE NBA CHAMPIONS!

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.

I’ve Got Problems Man

Have you ever dated someone you knew from the very beginning was bad for you, but you insisted on dating them anyway? This is my entire dating history. I have a thing for unstable women that could very likely ┬ámurder me. I have told my friends many times; if I ever die under mysterious circumstances ALWAYS suspect the person I’m dating. It’s not love unless you live in constant fear of death.

“That doesn’t sound right.”

“No, I suppose it doesn’t.”

I’ve had many troublesome exes, but none were worse than Roxie (obviously not her real name seeing as how she’s not a cartoon character or a dog). Roxie was a lovely woman I met bar tending at a Cannibal Corpse concert SIDE NOTE: for those of you not familiar with the body of work of Cannibal Corpse please proceed with caution it is VERY graphic and not for the faint of heart or stomach.

We immediately hit it off, she was funny, charming, and smoking hot (to this day the hottest woman I’ve ever dated). But Roxie also had another job, she was a stripper. To a lot of people, this would be an immediate turn off, but seeing as how I am far from shallow, this was never an issue for me, in fact I was a little proud. Most strippers and even a lot of sex workers are good people, but Roxie was not a good person. She was also a drug addict that tried to kill me with a hammer while I was sleeping. We spent most of our days copulating and listening to old records. When I attempted to end things with Roxie, she seemed oddly happy, so naturally I assumed this was going to be a nice mutual breakup and I had rid myself of this God awful influence in my life… I came home from work that night with my television, guitar, and several records stolen. I was able to get the guitar back, but the TV and records were sadly long gone for heroin money. Fuck I miss those records.

My point is, don’t negatively judge strippers, they’re good people, but once you find out they do heroin RUN. THE. FUCK. AWAY.

They’re Like, Super Cute

Everyday I wonder why Josh is my best friend. He was the best man in my wedding, I once watched him buy a prostitute at a casino, and he and I have been through enough stupid scenarios to fill several poorly written books. And yet, I never stop wondering how he and I ever became friends.

Some background info. I have always considered myself a “city boy.” I grew up in Baltimore, and later relocated to the Midwest for school, which is where I met Josh. Josh grew up in rural Minnesota on a farm, the first time we met he was wearing camouflage and overalls. He looked like an extra in Duck Dynasty. We somehow decided to sit next to each other in our college communications class and we immediately connected, if he was a woman, we’d be married by now. I feel comfortable saying this, because I know he’s never going to read this and I’m using a fake name for him.

Naturally, as all friendships do, we argue about everything (especially being from very different backgrounds). However, the biggest thing he and I continue to argue about is masculinity. I grew up in Baltimore, not exactly a safe place to live, and being in an urban neighborhood, there’s this belief that you always need to be “hard.” I never believed in this philosophy. I’m a tough man, but I have never felt the need to show the world that I’m a man. Whereas Josh feels obligated to let everyone that happens to cross his path know that he does indeed have a penis.

I could write a thesis about the very notion of masculinity, but I want to focus on one specific thing: dogs. Yes, dogs. Why dogs? Because dogs are the truest judges of character and are the people we all deserve (I love all animals but until they make domesticated elephants I’m focusing specifically on dogs). I’ve had two dogs in my life as an adult man on my own: I bought a pug when I moved off the college, and I later bought a Pomeranian so they could be friends. When people see me walking my two toy dogs around town, almost always just like clockwork, some dude is going to stop and say something along the lines of:

“Your girlfriend makes you walk her dogs?”

“Nope they’re both mine,” I say with the utmost pride.

This is where Josh comes in, as my friend it is his social obligation to make fun of me, we do with each other, it’s a cornerstone of friendship. He still to this day makes fun of me for owning two toy dogs. Being a country boy (READ hillbilly) Josh feels a man must own a manly dog, like a pit bull OR A WOLF! And I think he’s a dumb hillbilly. I love my tiny dogs, especially now in their old age (the pug is 11 and the Pomeranian is 13) and I think it’s moronic that I’m less of a man because I bought small dogs. Masculinity is a funny thing, Josh is truly a good man that has many skills that I certainly do not possess, but this notion that men need to be tough all the time is insane. I’m not saying we need to be writing poems about our feelings and crying about sad internet videos, but for fuck sake if I want to own a small dog, I’m going to own a small dog mother fucker.

In my opinion, if you’re not comfortable enough with your own masculinity to own a small dog or do something that isn’t considered “manly” that makes you a bitch. You can bet the damn house every time Josh stays with me I find him on my couch holding my dogs. All dogs are great, I don’t want to get on a soapbox, but seriously, dogs are awesome if you don’t have one but want to get one, do it. I thank God everyday for my two dogs.

Share your thoughts on this. Do we need to be “hard” at all times or are those of us that are comfortable enough to step outside the standard ideals of masculinity better off? Let’s talk about it. I love you all.

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.