Thursday, May 17, 2007
Random Thoughts Strung Together from a Hungover Mind
Why am I so hungover on a Wednesday afternoon*, you ask? Well, in all truthfulness, most of you reading this probably aren’t all that surprised. After a month or so, I’m leaving my nighttime job at the Village Idiot. I’ve been offered a great new full time job with a nice salary, car allowance, etc, and I’m not sure my new full time schedule will mesh with my part-time bar schedule. Brian, the owner of the Idiot, is a friend of mine as well as my boss, and I don’t want to leave him in a bind by calling in whenever I’m going to be running late or not coming in due to a conflict with my day job.
Which brings me to this: I told everyone last night that it was my last week, and Asher, Cap’n, and Jimmy all insisted on taking me out drinking. In fact, they started out by buying me drinks while I was still technically working. Brian was feeding me beers while I was helping clean up and close out, and then the shots started. Oh dear God, the shots. You, my dear readers, may not know this, but I rarely drink liquor. My track record has proven, time and time again, that it’s best when I stick to beer. Last night was no exception. I was feeling no pain when we left the Idiot and walked over to Chubby’s 2 x 4 down the street, where we had a few until they were starting to close, so we proceeded to a private bar down the street. None of us are members at Durkin’s, but they let service industry people (servers, bartenders, cooks, etc.) in regardless of whether they have a membership.
Long story short, I wound up at the new/old girlfriend’s house at around 4 AM. She, of course, was happy to see me. Who wouldn’t be pleased with an unexpected visitor at o-dark thirty in the morning? I’m just lucky that I’m the one who owns a gun, not her. I barely remember her getting up to go to work that morning. After much careful reflection, here is what I realize: it’s time to go. I’m not as young and spry as I once was, and staying up that late puts a big ol’ hurtin’ on me the next day. Also, when I start singing along and nodding my head to songs by DJ Unk (Two Step, Walk It Out) I’m clearly working in a bar that I’m too old to work in. I’ve also determined that, other than Brian and his wife, I’m the oldest person there. So, Village Idiot, it’s been real, it’s been fun, and it’s been real fun, but I’m out. Let’s stay friends, umkay? BFF? Stay cool this summer? TTYL? LYLAS?
That being said, I attempted to watch Borat on Tuesday. To everyone who is constantly quoting this movie and talking about how great it is: What the hell?! I could barely sit through 45 minutes of it, and that was only because I kept waiting for the funny part. If anyone can tell me at what point in the movie I should start laughing, I’ll be more than happy to start it up there. Otherwise, I’m convinced that Hollywood and all of my friends are playing some type of extremely expensive, very elaborate prank on me by pretending that this is a comedy. Ha ha, you got me, assholes. Now give me back 45 minutes of my life I wasted, or a sixer of PBR, whichever is more convenient.
JT out.
*This was started yesterday, just finished today.
Which brings me to this: I told everyone last night that it was my last week, and Asher, Cap’n, and Jimmy all insisted on taking me out drinking. In fact, they started out by buying me drinks while I was still technically working. Brian was feeding me beers while I was helping clean up and close out, and then the shots started. Oh dear God, the shots. You, my dear readers, may not know this, but I rarely drink liquor. My track record has proven, time and time again, that it’s best when I stick to beer. Last night was no exception. I was feeling no pain when we left the Idiot and walked over to Chubby’s 2 x 4 down the street, where we had a few until they were starting to close, so we proceeded to a private bar down the street. None of us are members at Durkin’s, but they let service industry people (servers, bartenders, cooks, etc.) in regardless of whether they have a membership.
Long story short, I wound up at the new/old girlfriend’s house at around 4 AM. She, of course, was happy to see me. Who wouldn’t be pleased with an unexpected visitor at o-dark thirty in the morning? I’m just lucky that I’m the one who owns a gun, not her. I barely remember her getting up to go to work that morning. After much careful reflection, here is what I realize: it’s time to go. I’m not as young and spry as I once was, and staying up that late puts a big ol’ hurtin’ on me the next day. Also, when I start singing along and nodding my head to songs by DJ Unk (Two Step, Walk It Out) I’m clearly working in a bar that I’m too old to work in. I’ve also determined that, other than Brian and his wife, I’m the oldest person there. So, Village Idiot, it’s been real, it’s been fun, and it’s been real fun, but I’m out. Let’s stay friends, umkay? BFF? Stay cool this summer? TTYL? LYLAS?
That being said, I attempted to watch Borat on Tuesday. To everyone who is constantly quoting this movie and talking about how great it is: What the hell?! I could barely sit through 45 minutes of it, and that was only because I kept waiting for the funny part. If anyone can tell me at what point in the movie I should start laughing, I’ll be more than happy to start it up there. Otherwise, I’m convinced that Hollywood and all of my friends are playing some type of extremely expensive, very elaborate prank on me by pretending that this is a comedy. Ha ha, you got me, assholes. Now give me back 45 minutes of my life I wasted, or a sixer of PBR, whichever is more convenient.
JT out.
*This was started yesterday, just finished today.
Comments:
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I don't do that type of humor. Naked Gun movies, Airplane, etc...not for me. My sense of humor is so obscure that there are very few movies that can make me laugh. That being said, Happy Gilmore still never fails. haha.
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