ALCOHOL

I was thinking before New Year’s Eve that perhaps I should cut down on the drinking in 2012. Then when I woke up the next morning to a text from my good friend saying I should probably apologize to his long-time girlfriend for calling her a “cunt” multiple times, I really thought it would be a good time to take a break. Important note: this is only because she’s awesome; if she were really a cunt, I wouldn’t have felt bad.

Of course, at 10pm the next day my roommate busts into the apartment and tells me to put some pants on (I had pajamas on, ok?) because “we’re fucking going out.” I wish I could say he wasn’t going to take no for an answer, but it was just me displaying my total lack of willpower. Insecurity tends to leave one susceptible to peer pressure. Luckily, since I got such a late start, I was able to contain myself fairly well. The next Sunday was a different story.

Holding a football party for a game that starts at 1pm is dangerous. By 6:30 or so (after everyone had left), I was all ready to stop drinking. Then my roommate and his girlfriend went into his bedroom to partake in an activity I haven’t experienced in a while which I know I can when I go to https://www.sexdatingapps.com/. Thus, it was time to go to Village Pourhouse to meet up with some of our earlier guests. Would I have heard them fucking if I stayed in the apartment with the Steelers-Broncos game blasting? Probably not. Have I heard them before? Plenty of times. But I wasn’t going to watch Tebow Time alone when I could be watching it in a bar among massive alcoholics — and I mean massive in both drinking quantity and physical size.

My plan was to grab something to eat immediately after the end of the Steelers-Broncos game. As it turned out, I was abandoned by four girls who had walked up into my general area right before the Tebow Miracle. In my despondence, I was sucked into stepping foot in another bar. Minutes later, the 35-year-old, 6’5″ Russian alcoholic I was hosting a couple of hours earlier ordered 10 tequila shots for three people. One of these three people was a 40-year-old woman (estimating) who didn’t want to drink any of the shots. As a result, I ended up downing three or four of the tequila shots.

After reaching a transcendent level of drunkenness, I figured it’d be a good idea to harass the cute bartender who had just gotten off her shift. I even tried to make light of the incessant drunken wooing she must encounter every day she works. It seemed to work, because I do remember talking to her for a significant amount of time. What I don’t remember is anything after she plugged her phone number into my phone. It was as if my brain decided to turn off the second it knew it had done its job. “Welp, you got an attractive female’s number? Time to shut down for the night.” I later arrived at my apartment unable to open the locks with my keys and cursing out the door for not letting me in and then screaming like a possessed person while I lay in bed.

The bartender never responded to my later text.

WOMEN

I’m not sure how much I need to expand on this topic, considering the initial section of this blog post. I did get the number of another bartender on Monday night, though. Unfortunately, it ended up being the wrong number. I figured this would happen after I asked the girl for her number, I typed it into my phone knowing it was wrong, asked her if the last four digits I had typed into my phone were right, she said they were wrong, and I typed them in half-heartedly knowing they were wrong yet again but didn’t want to ask a third time. Fuck. Me.

I also have replaced one unhealthy online obsession (which existed in the real world for a short period of time) with another unhealthy online obsession. Is this progress?

BLOGGING

I took a three month break between posts. It has been about an additional month’s wait for another post. This is obviously unacceptable. And while I haven’t made much progress on this individual blog front, I have created a baseball blog at Second Squad Sorrows. I credit former Roto Hardball colleague and fellow long-distance relationship sufferer @scottskillings with pushing me to create the blog. Mets and White Sox fans together to wallow in the patheticness of their respective teams. Wonderful.

INTERNET

I want to spend less time on the internet; I assume most people nowadays feel the same way. I have not improved at all since the calendar flipped over to 2012. I feel comfortable in assuming this is the case for most people who try to cut internet social interaction out of their lives. I know one person on NeoGAF who has just replaced his NeoGAF forum time with tweets and YouTube comments. YOUTUBE COMMENTS. It doesn’t get any more desperate than commenting on YouTube. That is like when Josh Hamilton took whatever painkillers he could to simulate his Oxycodane addiction (note: I have no idea how accurate this is).

EXERCISE

It took me about a month, but I finally did some intense exercise in 2012. And it was only due to the insistence of my roommate’s girlfriend. And it was only for 15 effective minutes out of a total 30. It was the P90X Ab Ripper X video and it’s four days later and my hip flexors still hurt. Goddamn it. I better take at least a couple of runs this week or else the indoor soccer game I have next Friday is going to be an unmitigated disaster.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VsZ1SagUPb4

I have to think this will be my last Inception-related post. The movie isn’t going to pass $300 million domestic and probably not $700 million worldwide, so I won’t have any reasons to make a stupid box office post.  I’m not even sure why I would post about those numbers other than the fact that they’re nice and round and big. Mmmm, round and big. But this is a good way to wrap up the Inception obsession, as I don’t think there are going to be any a better-made spoofs than this.

I swear to God, I should trademark that title. What male between 18-35 wouldn’t want to watch that? There’s already Man vs. Wild and Man v. Food, why not pit Man against his most hilarity-inducing foe? Now, I’ve seen Man vs. Wild, and while it was fun to watch, we all know it’s bullshit. Man v. Food I haven’t seen with my own eyes, but I imagine it’s just some guy (or collection of people) who goes around the world eating different foods, right? (Wikipedia confirms this assumption.) Ok, I’ll admit that’s not a bad idea, so why not extend it to alcohol? Why not have some guy go around the world and drink all types of beer and vodka and whiskey and sake and whatever else is created around the world to get people drunk? I nominate myself, of course.

Let’s think about this seriously. You could fill this show with trips to Ireland, to Japan, to Germany — just for starters. You could even send the person to different college campuses in the U.S., and display the different drinking games that go on at each one. Just in my personal experience, I’ve seen a massive variety of things go on at different universities when alcohol is involved. You could teach people how to blow a fireball. You could show how beer pong is played at various colleges. You could contrast the most rundown frat houses to the most preppy. You could try to find the hottest drunken mud wrestling fights. You could compare pub trivia at bars across the country, or even other countries, if they have it. There’s a lot of potential here. I guess the E! channel already has a bunch of shit that approximates such a show, but fuck that, this shit would be on the Spike channel and would subsequently be displayed on bar televisions across the country at 1 AM. Or maybe I’m just incorrectly basing that on one bar.

I don’t think there’s much more elaboration I could provide when it comes to such a television program. Shit would just happen. People would get into fights, vomit across tabletops, and go into comas from too much 151. I wonder what type of insurance such a show would necessitate. Maybe I’d just sign some contract saying that I understand the risk that I’m taking when I pound fifteen cups of sake and then attempt to karaoke. It’s what Japanese businessmen do every night, why couldn’t I handle it? Someone get me the number to Spike, please.

Unfortunately, they’d just steal my idea and replace me with a hot chick and call it Wild On 2. I guess the television viewers would be happy, though.