======= ======= ====== ====== ====== ===== ==== ====== ====== ===== ==== ======= ======= ====== ====== ====== ===== ==== ====== ====== ===== ====
Time to griiiiiiiiind. Okay, I may be a little optimistic rolling into this Monday because I’ve got a bachelor party on the horizon this coming weekend, but stay tuned for next Monday when I’ll be a shell of myself wondering where all my money went.
Alright, let’s get into this week’s crop of stories which can be found unedited in quotes below.
Coming to you live from Nashville. Here for the weekend with my buddies for a bachelor party. One of the guys passed out sitting on the toilet in completely soiled jeans. A different guy was on something (the wildcard of the group) and was banging on everything in the house trying to wake everyone up to keep the party going until one of us decked him. He deserved it. He understands now.
Missed my MFing flight this morning so everything hurts more. Won’t get home until midnight. Fuming about it. Don’t book 7:30 flights home the Sunday of the bachelor party. Just reckless.
Checked my bank account because I’m a psycho sucker for pain and it’s not as bad as I thought but there’s gonna be a ton of pending charges coming. My Sunday playlist is playing the smooth sounds of Norah Jones though so I’ve got that going for me.
I have a recurring thought that Nashville is a relative of Austin. Phones on 51%. Brain is on 4%.
Well this isn’t exactly how I wanted to start this column today as someone who literally has a 7:30 a.m. flight book on Sunday. Glad you at least shampooed some Norah Jones in, though. You have to think that the second this guy’s phone went from 51% to 49% that his anxiety spiked just a bit more.
Went down to the alma mater for the second time in three weeks to wreck the town because I’m a strong, independent man that doesn’t heed your advice. Anyway. Went to brunch on Saturday, and then decided to follow it up with a visit to the local vineyard for giggles and shits. Said vineyard had a basketball hoop, and being the tremendous high school athlete that I was, I figured I could throw it down fairly easy on the 8ft rim after being egged by fellow degenerates. As I was preparing for take off for a 360 jam that would’ve made MJ blush, I didn’t notice the gravel beneath the hoop that caused me to eat shit and get called out sliding into Home. The 15 or so onlookers really enjoyed it, and so did the ‘gram. It’s not the falling down that counts, but the getting up the matters. That was my motto for the rest of the day as I continued to drink more. Unfortunately, things did not get better, and I struck out twice. First time was swinging, and the second was looking. I now write to you as a sore, hungover and tired man that is dreading the ride home to the suburban life. Work will not be fun on Monday, and the shame and pain will last for at least a week.
Have a good week.
I can confirm that he included a video, and I can also confirm that he did not make it more than three inches off the ground.
Spikeball was being played in my general vicinity on Saturday and I actually had the thought, “Will, do not play this. You will roll and ankle or tear an ACL.” Luckily there was a motion to play some KanJam, so we did that instead. Outside of the ski pole game, I can confirm that these two instances are the only time it’s okay to play anything with a frisbee.
Seeing as I have all this time to kill now, I’m just going to get drunk in the airport and bet on sports. Bowels are rekt and I sneezed a bloody booger on my upper lip. I remember telling a girl at the bar with this cranky bachelorette party that she looks like an elementary school teacher and they went OFF on me for being sexist and told me she probably makes twice what I make. Smooth. I’m a doctor so she must be doing pretty well for herself (didn’t play that card but it would have felt great). People are saying 2018 is the year of being offended. My lips have 0 moisture. Calves are thicc rn from all the walking we did. Getting those Micah calves.
I mean, yeah, you probably shouldn’t tell some random girl at the bar that she looks like a teacher because it has two outcomes: she’s either a teacher or she’s not. Drunk people get offended easily, never forget that.
Oh, and I started Accutane this weekend so my lips are about to be hovering around the zero percent moisture levels as well. Super excited to see how this pans out.
Hey Will this weekend was a doesy for me. I was still recovering from Coachella and having a mean case of the Coachella flu but it was my friends 21st birthday so had to go HAM. The fact that it was 4/20 only meant we were smoking that kill before the party. Coming down off some strong shit and heading to the party around 9. Taking shots of Fireball and chasing with good ol natty ice the night began to blur. Nose kill came into play (shouts to Raptor, Wya homie??) and couldn’t feel my toes. My friend ended up blacking our before midnight. I hooked up with her friend from Seattle and ended my night throwing up in my bathroom trash can while pooping. Having the ultimate scaries in the library trying to catch up from the past 2 weeks of doing no work. But was it worth it? Yea probably. Shouts from LA.
Major shouts to Raptor. If you’re out there, let us know you’re alive. We’re all very worried about you.
I may be in the minority of people who don’t hate Fireball shots, but once you mix it with kill and nose kill, you’re asking for a hangover of all hangovers.
Went out last night for the first time in months and woke up with the worst hangover this morning, took my dog out for our morning walk and saw my car had been broken into. Everything in it was stolen…. including my work laptop which I stupidly forgot to bring inside. Told my boss and she said we would talk about it tomorrow. Pray for me because I could get fired for data breach.
As someone who grew up his entire life leaving his keys in the ignition, it’s only a matter of time before I get all my shit stolen. But yeah, if you can get fired for “data breach,” you should probably 1. bring your shit inside or 2. keep your shit in the trunk. This is day one stuff.
Long time reader, first time submitter. I debated if I should submit at all but, considering the fact that i’m hiding under my covers and the only light in my room is coming from the a documentary on the Russian Tsars of history playing on my laptop, safe to say my Sunday scaries are real. And what got me to these scaries you may ask? Well Will… let’s go through this together.
It’s not that I had a bad time per say… but I went on fucking vacation. To the beach. With my boyfriend. It actually was really nice. There were some pukes and rallies, but we had an amazing time. Why the scaries you ask? I’ve been out for over a week. I work at a school that had a late spring break and I took advantage of this to take even more days off, and now I haven’t been at work for a total of 9… read it 9 whole days. I took this vacation because right now there’s nothing that makes me more miserable than my job. But that’s another story for another time. Imagine living 9 amazing days basking in everything vacation gives you and then waking up on a Sunday morning to be dropped off at a train station by your significant other and have nothing… nothing else to do on the train but 1. Check your bank account and realize you spent like there was no tomorrow while away but still need to buy groceries for the week and 2. face your work email which now is in the hundreds of unread emails.
If I make it through Monday without a mental breakdown I will be so impressed.
Nothing worse than being off for a super-extended period of time only to get the wave of anxiety that is returning to the real world. The absolute worst thing you can do isn’t even checking your bank account, but checking your work email. You see, it’s tricky. You can either check it as you go while on vacation or you can delay until Monday morning and just deal with it then. Or you can wake up on Monday and press “Mark All As Read” and just start new. Probably not the best strategy, but a strategy nonetheless.
so… this weekend started on thursday. was in my hometown for a little reunion for a wedding of a friend who now lives in boston. had about 8 (guessing) margaritas without food in my stomach. that was genius. then proceeded to cry in front of girls i haven’t seen in ranges of 3-7 years. at some point we started giggling and acting like we were in middle school and prank called my ex. we thought it was hilarious. he didn’t. led to more crying. fast forward through the all day hangover friday (i have to stop drinking on an empty stomach) to the wedding on saturday.. thought the wedding was at 6, it was actually at 5. i didn’t realize that until about 4:45. made it about 3 minutes into the ceremony. then proceeded to get absolutely hammered during dinner and the reception.. and once again, cry a lot. around 2am i had the brilliant idea to call my ex and for some unknown reason he answered and talked to me for the first time in over a month. pretty much annihilated me emotionally (but hey, now i don’t miss him) and the crying got worse. that’s when i decided it was a good idea to mess around with the grooms brother. according to record, i actually walked up and straight up asked if he wanted a blow job. which of course he did. turns out i’m a bigger shit show than i was in high school and it now makes sense why i’m the only one in our little group who isn’t married, engaged, or close to being engaged.
Have yourself a wedding weekend, random submitter. Once you realized you had the wedding in 15 minutes, the move was probably just skipping it altogether. No one would’ve noticed. I know this from experience because traffic once put me into a jam (puns!) and I ended up skipping a wedding so I could take the extra hour to get fresh as hell. It worked and no one even mentioned my absence to me. I’m not suggesting it for every wedding, but I’m also not going to condemn someone for missing out.
I’ve got some second hand scaries and something of my own that’s way too real, so let’s dive in.
Over St. Patrick’s day weekend a buddy of mine took a girl home from our groups favorite bar. The next day she Venmo’ed him asking for $200 for Plan B and an Uber cleaning charge. He pays it “because it sounds like something I’d do”. Fast forward to Sunday brunch and she sends him another request for $200 he sends it again and we here a notification sound, look over and it’s the same girl, she’s sitting two tables over from us. It comes out in conversation that she used the first $200 to cover a brunch tab. The best part is that they agreed to go on an actual date this week provided she uses his money to pay.
The other case of second hand scaries is for my newest co-worker. The whole team had a happy hour in her honor because she killed it on her first solo client meeting. Then she apparently went and hooked up with a guy from a different department. She might be in some shit if that’s true because our director isn’t too keen on office flings, so send some T’s and P’s her way.
Finally, me. I was unable to attend Baseball Brunch with the DC PGP crew on Saturday because I had to visit my grandma in the hospital among other things. As it stands her second to last words to me are “cancel the party bus for my 87th birthday, I don’t want you to lose the deposit.” The insomnia I have isn’t great, at least I have a good anecdote to tell when the time comes.
Goddamn. Big shouts to your grandma.
But, we need to talk about your buddy who’s just accepting $200 Venmo requests all willy-nilly. You need to talk him out of going on a date with this random St. Patrick’ Day hookup because if they get into a relationship, she’s going to absolutely shell this dude.
I have some legitimate questions regarding this situation. First, did they split the Plan B charge? I’m not saying they should, but like, he has a case for it. Secondly, if he actually did do something in the Uber that requires a cleaning fee (and doesn’t remember), did she really hook up with him after? Seems like a bad idea on all accounts. If I’m in an Uber and someone boots everywhere, there’s about a zero-point-zero percent chance they’re getting to any bases with me. I don’t know, maybe I have some high standards.
Not to throw shade at this week’s crop of stories but they were all fairly tame, guys and gals. Let’s ratchet these up a bit moving forward. Email your absolute worst to firstname.lastname@example.org and make all these stories look like child’s play.
See you next week. .