Wedding season, man. Whoever said, “It’s a marathon, not a sprint,” has never been seated opposite of the buffet at a 300-person wedding when there are valuable beef tenderloin sliders up for grabs. But much like CrossFitters and every other guy in the world uses pre-workout to get that extra edge, I had enough flutes of champagne in me to get the confidence to cut and get the fresh batch that came out before the first dance.
Unfortunately, when I decided to couple those sliders with a martini (going through a martini phase, nbd), the bartender decided to shake it for a minute straight at the exact same moment the father-of-the-bride asked everyone to bow their heads in prayer. I sat there praying, but not for the reason everyone else was. I simply didn’t want anyone to pick their head up and see that I was 1. The asshole who ordered a martini at a wedding and 2. The asshole getting it shook for him mid-prayer.
Anyway, everyone saw and I looked like – you guessed it – an asshole.
Now let’s get to your stories because everyone knows we all need them.
Well Will things have not gone well for me over the past 48 hours. Last night I was talked into going to the casino at 1145. I stated numerous times I did not want to go because I have no self control. So of course when I get there I decide to hit the ATM because I NEEDED to play virtual Craps. Fucking 7s flying everywhere and I’m to drunk and not well educated enough to figure out how to beat this shit. I’m washed before I even know what hit me. So I grab a drink and watch my buddies get just as wrecked as me. Somehow I rationalize that I need to double down and go balls deep on these virtual Craps. Hit the ATM and hop back on the table. Fucking 7s flying again. I’m now out a lot more money than I had hoped on an evening I didn’t much feel like going out.
Now after 4 hours of sleep, I walk to my brunch spot with friends and sit down in my favorite booth. This was big for my mental state, as at this moment in time shits fragile. I order a pitcher for the table and personally order 2 mimosas (bottomless is unfortunately not an option). My waitress smiles and says “I see nothing has changed.” This was made me feel like down right trash while simultaneously making me feel really great. At this point things are quite literally a wave of emotions. It’s 80 degrees and I’m headed downtown for the Tribe game.
Everyone has a love/hate relationship with casinos. Virtual games, though? Not for me. Need that human interaction I can’t get through the screen I stare deeply into for 99% of my life.
I was celebrating my birthday yesterday because I had a midweek birthday. For starters, it rained the entire day, so that made for an upsetting day right from the get-go. Fast forward to about 4:30 pm. My parents witnessed a drive-by shooting on the way to pick me up for my birthday dinner. The hysteria and dramatics from my mom were off the chart. Hooray, Chicago. An hour later we got to the restaurant, and ending up getting screwed on our rezzy and had to wait about 45 minutes, which sucked, but wasn’t the worst considering the wait without calling ahead was around 2 hours. Fast forward again to about 10:00 pm where I’m out at the bar being handed a warm High Life. And then another. And then another. I had other cold drinks before, during and after, but three warm High Lifes isn’t what you want. Oh, and I got a shot of Malort too with one of the High Lifes. We’ll fast forward for the last time to right about now (10:30 am) where I’m reading my texts I sent from last night, and one was me telling a girl I’ve been talking to that I want to date her. Fun fact: I don’t want to date her. Somehow I’ll have to explain that one. And the Malort shot is still lingering.
I’ve never had Malort because I pretty much refuse to enjoy anything that’s special to Chicago, but after all the stories I’ve heard about it, there’s even worse chances that I ever try it. Have fun with your relationship, though.
Currently in the back seat of a car driving three hours home from cincinatti, where I got drunk with a handful of PGPers at a house party. We began drinking with beers at 6am, drank something called “ski” which is apparently Sprite, but with pulp? And vodka. Drank a Chicago specific booze called malort, which is “preferred by two fisted drinkers,” and someone made 151 infused gummy bears. Hooked up with a fellow PGPer 6 years younger than me in a laundry room on a half inflated air mattress, and collectively we broke a bathroom.
I haven’t showered, am still drunk, and am on my way to lead a talk for undergrads on having responsible plans in place for their summers.
Jesus, people. Enough with the Malort. But if anyone told me, “Will, your life legacy is going to be helping create a community of people who drink vodka-Sprites together before hooking up on air mattresses,” I’d be psyched. And I am psyched.
The Sunday scaries were real when I woke up. But I had already made these plans and I’m not a quitter. I’ve had a 3 day shitshow, ending with today. I’m drinking at my apartment today with my employees today who are college students at my alma mater. I let one of them champagne facial me in a hot tub and am still currently drinking and playing Kings with them. I have to go to work and see them all tomorrow still, pray for me. PS–loving the #DCONation hat, can’t wait for the Hot People Only edition.
I’ve never wanted a photo like I want a photo of you getting a champagne facial in your Deal Closers Only hat.
Went back to my alma mater for end-of-year festivities and to visit my little sister who still goes there. Sat at my favorite bar for about 7 hours and ordered several too many VWLs. Ended up taking a “nap” in an academic building hallway and woke up around 1:30am extremely confused. Proceeded to walk to the fraternity my sister was at, seemingly gave a standup comedic performance in front of several people, then slept in a frat armchair in my jeans.
Can’t go back.
Never. go. back.
But coming from someone who took a public nap last week at a Tex-Mex restaurant, I’ll say this – it gets better.
Got obliterated in Houston. All flights to Dallas currently delayed due to high winds. That’s all.
Embrace that delay. Do you really want Scaries on a plane when there are high winds? Didn’t think so.
Took Friday off and went back to the alma mater for my fraternity’s end of year party. Proceeded to drink all day Friday and Saturday, never went to bed before 3:00 am and always woke up before 8:30 am. Now my whole body hurts, I’ve lost my voice, and I’m going to bed at 8:30 pm.
I literally just said this but I’m saying it again – Never. go. back.
Day started off right: a darty around 3 PM complete with a 40 of Bud Light, a few cups of Natty (courtesy of some killer rounds of Boom and Flip-Cup), a couple vodka mixers, and a double whisky soda at a local bar (shouts to Pachinko’s). What followed this was a trip to Mt. Adams in Cincy with some friends, an open bar, and blackout levels of stupid drinking. As far as I can remember (combined with what I can make out from the torn up receipts), there were Manhattans, Moscow Mules, and glasses of Maker’s and Knob Creek aplenty. Needless to say, this took events to eleven quite rapidly. Apparently, while double-fisting mixed drinks, I hardcore hit on a friend of mine. Somehow, I even gave a long-winded exposition on why she should take a picture with me. I have literally zero recollection of this.
The bus ride back was even better, with me passed out somewhere in the back and all of my friends taking amusing photos of me to use later as blackmail if I ever run for office. Somehow made it home without losing any clothes or essentials like the wallet and phone, and woke up this morning still drunk with $30 in my checking account, a series of hilariously compromising photos of me in the group chat, and some scaries that not even hungover Bagel & Deli could fix.
If you have Scaries that not even a steaming hot bagel sandwich can fix, then I’m not going to be able to help you. Thoughts and prayers.
After asking for Friday off from work, I decided to venture back to my old campus to visit some friends and forget about the pains of adulting. After discovering that it was impossible to disconnect from work, and spending my day taking Ls from the bossman via phone, I got into early drinking mode, which led to massive spending thanks to my baller drunk alter ego who doesnt give a shit about paying the bills.
Waking up on Saturday next to a girl I had an unfinished story with. After I managed to get a ride home, I ender up in a midday stormy weather party which extended until bars closing time. Again, the same results as Friday with another unfinished story girl.
Finally making it to Sunday, to wake up to no morning sex due to condom lacking (safe sex kids), to getting a brunch smoke to “deal with the hangover”, to sending a snapchat to my ex (seen & unresponded), to a 5 hour car ride in which I had way too much time to examine my poor life choices.
Adulting is rough, especially when you have time to realize that your college, care free living version of you is long gone brother.
I’m not going to repeat “Never go back” again, but seriously, get it through your heads. We’re all at the age where hangovers last 48 hours and we make enough money to buy copious amounts of alcohol at college-level prices. You’re pretty much asking to blackout because you have the tolerance of an entry-level associate who eats Lean Cuisines four nights a week.
I did some bad things this weekend. It was my last weekend of work before I was leaving the IB job I hated too work for the company of my dreams. Go celebrate I got blacked out Friday. You know those IV bars ya I did that at 5 pm on Friday so I could then booze again. I woke up in vegas. So Saturday I smoke weed to relax that we somehow got through tsa and then I blackout again. Luckily I wake up at like midnight and fly back to Chicago. I then proceed to have dinner with my girlfriends parents who I was planning on asking the father to marry me. The parents realized I was a mess because I was so rattled that they striaight up said they had some doubts about me. Sunday I wake up from a nap and then realize I’m single. So ya come to me Monday. Xanax anyone?
Oh no. No no no no no no. People say, “Good things come to those who are on breaks,” though.
My recent ex girlfriend got a new goldendoodle puppy and I’m exponentially more jealous than if she had gotten a new boyfriend.
Well that’s because puppies are cooler than people. Trust me, I know because I just got a puppy.
No one said it was going to be easy, everyone. Keep your head up. There’s always next weekend to make things right. Five days. .