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I’m not going to put what I did this weekend on you because, frankly, you don’t care. Last night I tossed on As Good As It Gets and spooned with my dog before falling asleep half-way through. It’s not thunderstorming on a Monday morning, which feels like a metaphor for the mental state of the United States workforce.
But it’s time to drink some coffee, open up a bunch of tabs to make yourself look productive, and dive into some shitty stories that’ll make you feel better about your life.
This weekend, 14 ladies and I got together on the Cape for our friend’s bachelorette celebration. We had a great day on the beach Friday and a fun night out. Saturday morning we wake up around 10am and get some brunch going. Quiche is in the oven, along with the bacon. Two minutes in, we start to see smoke from the oven, then we see FIRE. We know to leave the door closed to contain it and hope it goes out on it’s own. Spoiler alert: it didn’t go out on its own. We called the fire department and were told to evacuate immediately (gas stove problems.)
In the time it took for them to show up, we start seeing more and more smoke billowing out of the house- terrifying. They got it contained and we were allowed back in, only to have to fumigate the house and scrub everything down to avoid getting charged a shitload for professionals to do it. Talk about hang-xiety. By the time the party bus showed up to take us to P-Town, we were all ready to forget the morning’s activities and rage. Still unsure what we will be charged for this shit.
At least the entire house didn’t burn to the ground? Small victories. Let’s just hope this isn’t an omen for how the marriage is going to go.
Also, I’m going to start replacing the phrase “dumpster fire” with “Cape house fire” because “dumpster fire” is overused and about one-millionth as bougie.
Before I get into the meat of this story I need to preface it with this: I’m having surgery on my face Tuesday to remove a tumor from behind my eye (don’t worry, it’s benign). But regardless, I’m not supposed to drink for 2 weeks before said surgery to prevent extra bleeding. But then this weekend still proceeds to happen.
Saturday afternoon one of my pledge brothers calls me and asks if I want to go to a party he’s having at his lake house that night. Citing the upcoming surgery I say I can’t, but somehow after 10 minutes of back and forth on the phone I find myself rushing home to pack a bag and make the 4 hour drive up there. The drive was actually pretty fun and there was no traffic, but it all quickly went downhill as soon as I got there.
I pulled in at 8:30 and everyone was on the deck. And by everyone I mean probably 75+ people. The party and the house were HUGE. I get in, say hi to everyone I know, and before I can say otherwise I’m getting shithoused. I hadn’t drank in a while cause I was actually staying true to the two-week rule that the surgeon set up for me, so I blacked out HARD not long after that. Most of the night was a total blur.
Sunday morning I wake up at 1 PM to my pledge bro and some girl I don’t remember meeting literally dragging me off the couch to go get Dunkin’ Donuts. Proceed to puke all over the Dunks bathroom. We get home around 1 and pledge bro decides that we’re gonna take his boat out onto the lake. He and the girl along with two other guys I don’t remember meeting decide that I should go first on the water skis (I had never water skied before). You can assume what happened next — and I’m now sporting a bruise on my thigh the size of a football to show for it.
We get off the water around 7 and everyone leaves with the exception of my pledge brother and this girl. I was so sore I didn’t move from the same position on the couch for over an hour. My pledge bro said he had to leave but welcomed the girl and me to stay the night if we weren’t ready to drive home, a proposition that we both kindly accepted. Quickly called my boss and left a voicemail saying that I was taking a sick day Monday so I could “take an extra day to prepare for my surgery”. Got no answer, decided to stay anyway. My pledge bro leaves and I jump in the shower to get the lake water off me and try to wake up. I come out to find the girl naked on the couch. According to her, we had “tried” the night before and couldn’t make it work, and now she wanted to seal the deal (also found out she was 6 years older than me). The entire sequence felt like it came directly out of a shitty porno. What followed that was the most raunchy two and a half hours I can remember having since I was in college. I put in the work and passed out immediately afterwards.
Woke up this morning to her trying to start round three. I obliged but definitely underperformed compared to the night before and we both knew it. She left shortly after and now I’m still laying in bed as I type this out. Less than 24 hours to surgery and I have to spend 4 of those hours getting home. Can’t wait to see what my boss says when I’m back in the office later this week and what happens when the surgeon realizes I got dangerously drunk three days before surgery. This isn’t scary, this is an absolute nightmare.
Jesus, man. If I was having that sort of eye surgery, I’d probably bunker down for the two weeks before and watch Game of Thrones so I could understand what the living fuck everyone is talking about every Sunday night on Twitter. Panic Attack City leading up to it. Let us know how it went, though. We need you to have two working eyes, man.
So, Saturday night a friend of mine decided to throw a party. So of course we started pregaming extra early, playing all types of drinking games and getting out of control before the party even starts. Finally the party starts and everyone is having fun (so I heard) not much drama and an overall goodnight. Apparently I wanted to call it a night around 5:30am and decided a nice walk would be a good idea, fast forward 2 hours when a police officer wakes me up from the ground behind the school I attended in grade 6. Luckily for me the officer thought it was as funny as my friends did, after refusing a ride home offered by the cop (mostly because I was embarrassed), I ended up walking back to my friends house surprised to see that there were still a couple survivors who thought the story was pretty funny.
Any story that has a cop waking you up at a school should end in an absolute nightmare, but this somehow didn’t. But I think you need to look deep within and figure out why the hell you went there in the first place.
It’s a bit too soon for this story to be in the “laughing with me” range and out of the “laughing at me” range but here it goes. I was at lollapalooza on Thursday. My friends left to get some food right before it started absolutely pouring and they evacuated the festival. I glanced at my phone to see if they texted me and watched it die in my hands. At that point I decided to be my own man and make it in life with just a few dollars and a dream. Fast forward to me falling asleep on the train long past my stop. I asked the conductor how far away I was and he just laughed and shook his head. I get off and find myself in a fenced in military base with a 6 lane road and zero taxis. I find a police car in the parking lot who drove me to the station where I called a taxi for the 45 minute drive home. The driver’s app stopped working so I got the ride for free with once again no lasting consequences for my questionable, but not regrettable, actions.
As if anyone needed more reasons to never go to music festivals. Hopefully you got a selfie with The Bean though!
While all my fault and worth it, I’ve come onto the worst and earliest scaries I’ve ever encountered. 10 days ago I decided on one days notice to go on a road trip out west with my friends. Great. Only flight I could get home is out of Salt Lake at 5:30 this fine morning. I moved 3 days before leaving for said trip as well, so the apartment I’m returning to is mostly unpacked in a complete mess. Also, I just cut and paste everything on my work schedule from last week to this week to make the trip happen. All of this is hanging over me while I go through the longest security line I’ve ever seen. Oh and I’m flying Frontier. It’s all my fault, but here I am just hoping the voice of Jerry Garcia and my baggies will ease the pain.
I mean, yeah, man. That sounds absolutely awful. First off, I don’t do road trips because being stuck in a car with people for longer than an hour makes me hate everyone. Moving is one of the worst possible things one can do next to scheduling classes, updating your resume, and going to the dentist. And flying Frontier is like uprooting yourself to live in a third-world country. Thoughts and prayers.
I accidentally ordered a 45 oz margarita in front of 16 year old brother and parents. And then my mom wouldn’t help me drink it. I also forgot the souvenir glass and my dad had to go back and get it. This is also in my conservative Kentucky town directly after church, when all the good baptists are having their Sunday lunch.
To speed the recovery I’ve been chugging water and listening to edm and country on our back deck. My mom says I’m not allowed to use stairs.
“Accidentally.” I see what you did there, girl.
Oh, and she followed up.
Also texted my ex-fwb a picture of what I had ordered using Chinese and English…
Keeping him on the hook using a little cyber flirtation? I respect the move.
Where do I start?
Poor guy’s name was Jim, yet after consuming copious amounts of BLL, Ultra, and Deep Eddy, we only referred to him as Captain Jack or Captain Ron. He corrected us once then gave up.
On our way out of the cove one of our guys one by one dropped life jackets off the boat for about 700 yards. The guy didn’t realize it and had to turn around after we were almost docked.
About 8 out of our 11 jumped at the front of the pontoon boat as he was slowing down, causing the nose of the boat to go under. This resulted in our buddy to get thrown out and Captain Ron (Jim) to freak out because apparently it really was his first day.
When it came time to sign the papers for payment they accidentally flew off the boat causing him to have to jump in after them.
Poor Captain Ron, man. As someone who once was a part of a pontoon boat fully submerging because of weight on the front, I feel your pain. We looked like castaways out there, just clinging to our coolers full of Labatt Blue Light and Kid Rock’s own Badass Beer. Those were the days.
Alright Will, bachelor party weekend in the Dells began Thursday night when I took the ferry from Muskegon to Milwaukee which proceeded into an all nighter at the casino pre bachelor party (First of many mistakes). There’s a decent amount I could include from this weekend but I think the most dumbfounding thing was the fact that 4 different people, including myself, got lost going home from a bar that’s across the street from the hotel. Personally, I managed to sleep on the sidewalk of an intersection and then finally made my way back to the room at 7 in the morning. Instead of finding a couch to catch any sort of decent sleep, I put together a bed in the bathtub. Not too comfortable. Woke up to a cracked phone, torn clothes and an ear that has a decent amount of dried blood in it. Currently it’s Sunday, I’m back on the ferry to Michigan radiating heat, and looking at an estimated Home arrival time of 1 AM. Dentist appointment at 8 AM and a day of accounting related government surveys awaits me. Please send well wishes.
Well, Michigan Guy, I truly have no idea how you and three friends managed to get lost across the fucking street from your hotel. I guess sleeping on a sidewalk is better than your Grade 6 school though? Not sure, honestly.
Have fun at the dentist. Not to brag, but I’m still a member of the No Cavity Club. Since 1987. NBD.
So within 1 hour I made 2 insanely stupid mistakes that not only ruined 2 weekends, but also potentially the rest of my life.
My vision felt a little off, which is normal, so I went to my doctor because I knew what the problem was. I was right, and they put me into surgery (3 needles to the eye) within 30 minutes. Then I find out I can’t drink or go jump around for the next few days while the shots do their work. I had planned to go to a concert the next day, but oh well. Then I made a worse decision, I scheduled the next round, which will require a much more intensive surgery should I choose to go that route, for the day before labor day weekend. That means no lake, no concerts, probably not even football. Currently curled up in a ball on my parents couch, getting free food and shopping for shit I don’t need. Retail therapy is fantastic when you never have to leave the couch.
There are always themes in this mailbag-esque column. Normally it’s returning to your alma mater, tailgating, or blacking out in an Uber. To say that I’m surprised that this week’s theme is “eye surgery” would be an understatement.
Company announced layoffs last week and we’ve got midyear performance reviews coming up this week, so naturally I drank to forget and ended up with a defcon 1 hangover this morning. To top it off my girlfriend hosted a game of thrones watch party at our place and now they won’t leave. I hate this show.
Honestly, if you get laid off, take this as your out. Move away. Dump your girlfriend. Apply for jobs in states we’re all too big of pussies to apply for jobs in – Colorado, Montana, South Carolina. Even if you don’t get one, pack up your newly purchased VW van and drive to that one place you want to be. Stop and soak in the views along the way while listening to Bob Seger’s greatest hits album. When you get there, look back on the last 22 years of your life and dissect what you would’ve done differently, and then do that shit differently for the next 22 years. Don’t be a slave to The Man and a girlfriend who has people over on Sunday nights when you should be alone in bed. Be the Walter Mitty we all want to be. .