Getting Roasted, Rewatching GoT, and Everything Else That Deterred Me From Success This Week

Getting Roasted, Rewatching GoT, and Everything Else That Deterred Me From Success This Week

Aziz Ansari has a bit where he talks about how most shitty days aren’t the result of one specific event; they’re the culmination of a shit ton of minor inconveniences. You got caught in traffic, you misinterpreted the project you were working on, your phone died and you left your charger in the car, etc.

This last week was the culmination of exactly that—a shit ton of minor inconveniences. Maybe it’s because I have a short week this week, maybe it’s because I feel like I’m walking on egg shells in my personal and professional life, but either way I’ve been having a shit week and I can’t tie it back to one specific shitty event. There were a lot of little ones, and they’ve been pissing me off all week.

I got roasted by my grandmother.

Holiday weekends are weird for everyone. When you’re in your early-mid twenties, you head back to your parents’ place for the weekend, only to not be able to sleep in your own bed because your relative is visiting for the weekend and you’re the only one of your siblings to have moved out so far. No? Just me?

What I’m getting at is that over the weekend, I stayed at my parents’ place, but not in my old bedroom, on an air mattress in the basement while my grandmother slept in my room. Honestly, I don’t know how Duda did it for however long he did. You can try and convince yourself all you want, but sleeping on an air mattress is just going to fuck up your back and neck.

The next morning, I sat at the island in our kitchen painfully sipping coffee, only to hear my grandma enter the room saying, “Oh my goodness, Charlie! Your bed is so comfortable! I slept so well, I almost didn’t want to get out of bed. Did you share a bed with your brother?”

“No, I actually slept on an air mattress in the basement, but I’m glad you slept well!”

I learned a new phrase.

Earlier this week, I brought up in passing to my roommate that I had gone to the bar wearing sweatpants the previous Friday night, and that I had caught a few people check me out in the process. I told her that I thought it was weird because who in their right mind would be checking out the dude wearing sweatpants and clearly not trying.

“Oh, I’m totally not surprised,” she said. “You know the phrase, ‘Sundresses to men are what sweatpants are to women?’”

I did not know this phrase, but after thinking about it, it makes sense. Sundresses are, from what I understand, easy to put on, and do a fantastic job making you look sexy and a little bit revealing while still leaving some things up to the imagination. Sweatpants are also easy to put on, and while they aren’t particularly sexy, you can definitely get a solid outline of that dude’s cock if you look at him the right way.

This got me thinking back to all the times I’ve worn sweatpants in public. That friendly conversation with the check out clerk at the grocery store. The coy smile from the laundromat attendant. The eye roll from my ex girlfriend’s dad when we met up for brunch. Now they all made sense.

I started rewatching Game of Thrones.

Not much to say here. I was already addicted and I couldn’t wait until July to get my fix. The problem is, now I can’t put that shit down. I can’t focus. I even logged into HBOGo onto my work laptop so that I could listen while I work on projects. Thrones is taking control of my life and spiraling out of control fast.

I participated in retail therapy.

When I was a kid, money management was something that was hammered into my head. I hated the thought of having little to no money in my bank account and got into the habit of saving money early. Then, I got into college and never wanted to be the kid who had to sell plasma so that he could go to Gulf Shores for spring break (even though I totally did that), so I kept saving money.

That takes us to now, about two years outside of college graduation. I live in a tiny apartment in Chicago, paying way more than I should be, and making significantly less money than my friends. In an attempt to compensate for that, I save a shit ton of each pay check. Well last weekend, my dad caught me checking my bank statements.

“Damn, Charlie,” he said, “You’re doing a really good job of saving. What for? House? Apartment?”

“Oh,” I replied, “I just want to be able to do cool shit with my friends when it comes up.”

He nodded along. “Okay,” he said, “Not to be an asshole, but what cool shit have you done?”

“Well…you know…we’re going to…well…” I couldn’t think of an answer. The thing is, as important as it is to be smart with your money, I’m 24 and I’m not really doing anything with it anyway. I have some wiggle room.

So in preparation for my trip to Boston tomorrow and in response to a week riddled with minor inconveniences, I bought two new pairs of shoes, three pairs of jeans, two Henley shirts, and then a fourth item that I’m not 100% sure of. Why am I not sure? Because I did all of this while I was drunk and online shopping. No, I didn’t overnight it. No, none of it will be here in time for me to go to Boston. All I’ll be able to do is wait and see and hope that the lobster rolls don’t make me put on too much weight.

Cheers, friends. Here’s to making it to next week.

Image via HBO

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Using sarcasm as a defense mechanism since 1993. At any given moment I'm either tired, drunk, or stressed out. Get at me at or whatever.

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