Saturday, October 28, 2006
Damn it Paul
I get back in the game and I have no one around to enjoy the sweet goodness that cracking a bottle of Single Barrell Jack Daniel brings when it touches your lips. Damn you Paul, damn you.
Wednesday, October 18, 2006
My Bad
As with most of the blogs linked on teh sidebar, less Nobrainer, I've been pretty slow and boring in posting recently. Sorry folks. I've been pretty darn busy but no great stories have entailed. Went home, sister backed into the car but no major damage though the fam sent me back to Charlotte in a sweet ride for about 10 days while mine was made pretty again. Had dinner with them tonight as they spent the day in town and swapped cars back. Been doing some random stuff at night, working a lot, working on the beer pong table. Took a long weekend following Temple game. Spent Friday sleeping. Seriously, due to hang over, until 3:30 and not back to normal until like 6. Weekend was dedicated to doing a bunch of piddly stuff around the house. BAck in the gym routine. That's about it. Most blog efforts are at the Gnomes along with Agent and some of Nobrainers attention. This weekend holds much promise with the biggest game in the ACC schedule in the Valley to coincide with Homecoming. Serious tailgating will ensue. The reason the effort but forth for the pong table. Guess that's it. I come up with stupide story to tell over the weekend or some insight or why I hate the national media or why I think gas prices suck (well, maybe the first one of that batch). Until then, hang on for a few more days. Some girl may get drunk and hang around me long enough to make things interesting between now and then. Honestly, no one in mind, but stranger things have happened.
Tuesday, October 10, 2006
Will the author please come forth.
I wish I could claim the following but can't. As one friend who recieved the same email has already stated, "We should build a temple to this beautiful, anonymous writer and all the truths he speaks of." I hope you all enjoy this as much as I did. It does hold lots of truths. Without further ado:
During my five-year college reunion in May, I snuck into my old fraternity house, which at the time was being used as some sort of communityservice dorm. As I wandered about taking pictures, a student approached andasked politely, "Excuse me, who are you?" Instinctively, I turned around andyelled menacingly, "Who the fuck are YOU?" The girl scurried off, but theincident made me introspective.
Here I am, twenty-seven-years old, with a relatively successful career,regular car insurance payments, and pillowcases that match my comforter. Yet at the same time, I can't drink one beer without drinking twenty, I can't converse with a girl withouttrying to take her home, and I can't even step foot in a fraternity housewithout immediately regressing into an asshole. While college is many yearsbehind me, vestiges of the experience remain deeply ingrained inmy personality. Welcome to the world of a recovering frat boy.
-Of course, I'm not the only one. There's an entire faction oftwenty somethings out there who live seemingly mature lives - but only to the naked eye. Take my friend Mike, a successful software developer in NewYork whose downtown apartment has actually been passed down for years tosuccessive generations of graduates from his fraternity like an off-campusparty house. Or my buddy Justin, a writer here in LA who is looking to moveto a new place - but has yet to find one big enough to fit his beer pong table. Unfortunately for him, "Hardwood floor quickly soaks up cheapbeer" is generally not an amenity typically found on craigslist.
-Recovering frat boys aren't required to have ever been Greek. In fact, theydon't even have to be boys. On average, every other Evite I received fromgirls over the past year has been for some sort of elaborate, costume/themeparty that reminds me of sophomore year. If you're a strong, independentwoman in her mid-twenties who is still throwing parties entitled Pimps &Hos, Forties & Hos, or Golf Pros & Tennis Hos, you are mostdefinitely a recovering frat boy. Dressed like a whore.
-To me, the phrase, "Let's grab a drink" is both the rallying cry and secretpassword of the recovering frat boy movement. For some reason, no one usesthat phrase until they've graduated college, and then they use itso frequently it becomes virtually devoid of meaning. If you really thinkabout it, you only actually grab a drink with about 10% of the people you saythat to. Of that 10%, most think you literally want to have a solitarycocktail and exchange pleasantries or discuss current events (thesepeople are often married or lawyers). The remainder - who you quicklyrecognize as kindred spirits - take "grab a drink" to mean "play beer pongand find that party where chicks are dressed as hos."
-Why is it, then, that so many of us, whether subconsciously or not,have adopted this quasi-Peter Pan lifestyle? These days, it's no longer, "Iwon't grow up." It's more like, "OK, I'll grow up, as long as I can stillthrow up once a weekend." I think the answer is simple: because we can. The world is changing. Getting married in your twenties is no longer the norm -in fact, those unfortunate souls who do are now outcasts, scorned andshunned, spit on and kicked to the side of the road by the rest of ussingle folk. And that means we now have more time to live our lives the waywe want to and, most importantly, have evolved the ability to do so whilestill excelling in the adult world. People ask me all the time how long Ican continue calling myself a recovering frat boy. Those people areusually sober and annoying. And my response is always the same: "Who the fuck are you?"
Thank you kind sir, thank you. And as an aside, my own beer pong table is, and has been, in the works. Much more than the Orange plank sited this past summer. It should be ready for Ga Tech next weekend if I get after it following the Temple blowout this week.
During my five-year college reunion in May, I snuck into my old fraternity house, which at the time was being used as some sort of communityservice dorm. As I wandered about taking pictures, a student approached andasked politely, "Excuse me, who are you?" Instinctively, I turned around andyelled menacingly, "Who the fuck are YOU?" The girl scurried off, but theincident made me introspective.
Here I am, twenty-seven-years old, with a relatively successful career,regular car insurance payments, and pillowcases that match my comforter. Yet at the same time, I can't drink one beer without drinking twenty, I can't converse with a girl withouttrying to take her home, and I can't even step foot in a fraternity housewithout immediately regressing into an asshole. While college is many yearsbehind me, vestiges of the experience remain deeply ingrained inmy personality. Welcome to the world of a recovering frat boy.
-Of course, I'm not the only one. There's an entire faction oftwenty somethings out there who live seemingly mature lives - but only to the naked eye. Take my friend Mike, a successful software developer in NewYork whose downtown apartment has actually been passed down for years tosuccessive generations of graduates from his fraternity like an off-campusparty house. Or my buddy Justin, a writer here in LA who is looking to moveto a new place - but has yet to find one big enough to fit his beer pong table. Unfortunately for him, "Hardwood floor quickly soaks up cheapbeer" is generally not an amenity typically found on craigslist.
-Recovering frat boys aren't required to have ever been Greek. In fact, theydon't even have to be boys. On average, every other Evite I received fromgirls over the past year has been for some sort of elaborate, costume/themeparty that reminds me of sophomore year. If you're a strong, independentwoman in her mid-twenties who is still throwing parties entitled Pimps &Hos, Forties & Hos, or Golf Pros & Tennis Hos, you are mostdefinitely a recovering frat boy. Dressed like a whore.
-To me, the phrase, "Let's grab a drink" is both the rallying cry and secretpassword of the recovering frat boy movement. For some reason, no one usesthat phrase until they've graduated college, and then they use itso frequently it becomes virtually devoid of meaning. If you really thinkabout it, you only actually grab a drink with about 10% of the people you saythat to. Of that 10%, most think you literally want to have a solitarycocktail and exchange pleasantries or discuss current events (thesepeople are often married or lawyers). The remainder - who you quicklyrecognize as kindred spirits - take "grab a drink" to mean "play beer pongand find that party where chicks are dressed as hos."
-Why is it, then, that so many of us, whether subconsciously or not,have adopted this quasi-Peter Pan lifestyle? These days, it's no longer, "Iwon't grow up." It's more like, "OK, I'll grow up, as long as I can stillthrow up once a weekend." I think the answer is simple: because we can. The world is changing. Getting married in your twenties is no longer the norm -in fact, those unfortunate souls who do are now outcasts, scorned andshunned, spit on and kicked to the side of the road by the rest of ussingle folk. And that means we now have more time to live our lives the waywe want to and, most importantly, have evolved the ability to do so whilestill excelling in the adult world. People ask me all the time how long Ican continue calling myself a recovering frat boy. Those people areusually sober and annoying. And my response is always the same: "Who the fuck are you?"
Thank you kind sir, thank you. And as an aside, my own beer pong table is, and has been, in the works. Much more than the Orange plank sited this past summer. It should be ready for Ga Tech next weekend if I get after it following the Temple blowout this week.
Thursday, October 05, 2006
2nd Residence
I've decided to invest in real estate. I am currently working on a 4 bed room, 2 bath chalet in the friend zone. It's quite spacious and will be upfited with the finest amentities. It's also easy to get to. I personally prefer to take the expressway. My decision was based on the fact I spend so much time there that just pitching a tent for the evening or renting from month to month are a waste. As most of this readership has ventured far from the friend zone, feel free to come back and visit periodically. It gets pretty boring here as there are less and less of us hanging out in the area these days. At one time Heilmann could be counted on to be here but he has long since pulled up stakes and moved on. I applaud the rest of you for getting out, many before you ever really got there.
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