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I love attention. I love making people laugh. I love doing stupid things that make other people laugh. I’ve recently realized that a majority of things I do and activities I partake in are not because I have the desire to do so, rather that I love to tell a good story. So many of my adventures begin with one of my friends saying “you won’t.” I could sit here and list off numerous activities that happened as soon as my friends started chanting my name and played the song, “Whistlin’ Dixie” by Randy Houser.
Chug a bottle of Evan Williams, rip my shirt off, snort lines of fruit punch pre-workout, steal a shopping cart, ride the shopping cart down a hill, ram my head through the wall, punch a hole through the door, shotgun on the first tee box in front of the starter, shotgun on top of a golf cart, try to breathe fire with Fireball and a lighter, take a street sign out of the ground and switch it with another street sign, hold my junk over an open fire, Stone Cold smash two milk jugs, or maybe try to light old fireworks inside the house.
Currently writing about how I do dumb things sometimes so I had to resurrect this pic.twitter.com/GXPVwAMDbo
— Delph (@delph_13) March 1, 2016
I’m beginning to realize I may have a serious problem. The odds are against me: I’m a large man that loves attention, I suck at saying no, and I have an easy-to-chant one syllable last name. This lethal combination dooms me. We’ve all been in a situation where a friend group agrees something would be hilarious. Then they must select a friend and pressure him into that thing. That friend, a respectable working adult male, knows good and well he should not do said thing, but he does it anyway. Why? The world may never know. It seems that we all enjoy telling the story.
Doing it for the story is an art. It takes special talent to be able to completely throw all logic out the window and make a decision based solely for the story it would create. There are various degrees of story-worthy deeds. Some stories are for friends only, some are for colleagues, and some stories are for grandkids one day (power move to use the friends-only stories). You know that you shouldn’t jump off the roof into the bush below, and you know the bush won’t make the fall any softer. But you do know that your friends would love the story at brunch the next day, so you do it. You know you’re supposed to say “okay I’m sorry” when your girlfriend is yelling at you, but you yell right back just to see where it goes. You’re texting the group chat a picture of your black eye the next day. You know you shouldn’t snap back at your boss or send that blunt email, but you want to brag about it at the water cooler the next day. So you do it. You probably shouldn’t send a dick pic to your ex who’s married with two kids now, but your buddies sure would love to hear about the repercussions, so you send the most graphic penis picture in history.
It may be tougher to do ridiculous things for the story now that we aren’t in college anymore. There’s more risk involved and we have already stunted for the story multiple times. What we don’t realize is that the best stories come in the postgrad years. The risk factor makes the story even better. I’ve heard a million stories about drunk college kids, but I’m way more entertained by working adults getting into sticky scenarios. Don’t let the haters look down on you for participating in debauchery. We have work and bills and loans to worry about, it’s healthy to get out and do something stupid every once and a while. The next time you face a tough decision, throw the logic out the window.
Do it for the story..
Respond
@delph_13
@gdelph13
gdelph
Impressive that you blew up a firecracker in your hand and kept it to “son of a gun.”
“You won’t do it” is the bane of my existence. Fire doors are apparently really expensive.
There’s a fine line between “doing it for the story” and just doing really dumb shit.
“When ‘keeping it real’ goes wrong.”
“Cocaine is one hell of a drug”
I think this is spot on, some things you did in college might be frowned upon in the real world but who cares
The last guy I knew who snapped back at our boss with a blunt email didn’t show up to the water cooler the next day. Or the day after that, or after that, or after that.
Maybe it’s because I’ll be 30 in a few months, but, it seems insane to me that you’re willing to harm yourself for a story.
…Franklin…Franklin.. Franklin. FRANKLIN. FRANKLIN! FRANKLIN!! FRANKLIN!!!!!!
That video was the height of The Dark Days of Delph
Aside from the occasional two cents on music and current events, this has transitioned into the main purpose of my Twitter account. Every day is a story waiting to happen. I know we’re the generation that feeds off of “likes”, and I do like the responses, but there is nothing better than seeing a Twitter follower in person and the first thing they say is “You Twitter is hilarious, is all of that stuff really true?”