A New Hope

Movies and sitcoms make heartbreak look like so much fun; a girl breaks your heart, you cry for a few days until your supportive roommate drags you out of the apartment to go get drunk, your friends are super supportive and let you get away with everything, you eventually hit bottom like get drunk and arrested for trying to beat up her new boyfriend (who actually isn’t her boyfriend, but he’s standing in the same room as her and looks like a dude who would probably be her new boyfriend because the way he is acting in that bar on a Wednesday night makes you jealous and wish you were him), you rot in jail for the weekend, and you finally meet a kindhearted redhead who works at the Salvation Army you are assigned to do your probation at and live happily ever after.

 

Either that or you are just drunk for two straight weeks and the phrase, “Drew is a bad influence” actually shows merit.

 

Weird Shapes

Tim opened his wallet to find nothing.

Well, not nothing, just nothing that he needed. Cash, drivers license, debit card, and even his blood donation card were all gone. Everything Tim owned as proof that he was a real person was gone. All that remained was a punch card for a bakery he won at bar bingo and a pocket sized schedule for the local semi-pro hockey team.

“Do you really need my ID for these cigarettes? I’m pretty sure I have a ten in my car if you can hold on a second…”

Tim knew the answer to this question. He had worked as a cashier for three years in college. He hated himself for even thinking to ask that question, let alone saying it, but at this point he was desperate.

“Yes,” sighed the cashier, who had most likely thought of very intricate ways to torture and kill people who asked him that question on a daily basis, “I really do need to see your ID. It’s the law.”

“I know, I know. I’m sorry. Shit. I’m sorry. I know you don’t want to hear me apologize, but…fuck, alright. Thanks anyway. It gets better, don’t worry.”

Tim didn’t really know why he added that last part. To give the kid hope, probably. To let to kid know that standing behind the counter at a gas station isn’t something that was going to last his whole life, even though it may seem like it. Tim was living proof that one can escape the prison that is dealing with the general public for more than 40 hours a week just to barely afford rent and whiskey.

It All Feels Right

“Whatever, man, it’s out of our hands now. Let’s go get a taco.”

Tacos were becoming a bigger part in his life by the day. Not just eating them either. It had expanded to taking the long way to work so he could drive by his favorite taco stand. He started drawing tacos on everything he could, however crude they may look. Arts were never his specialty. He even started calling people taco, so much so that he was beginning to forget peoples real name.

“Again? We had tacos yesterday. And the day before that you showed up with a taco for breakfast. At 9am. It didn’t even have eggs in it. It was just a straight taco. Are you okay?”

Shit. He knew too much. He knows about about the taco obsession. Quick, distract him with some natural small talk.

“Whatever happened to that girl who dumped you the day before your mom died? Did she get that boob job she always wanted?”

Before the star of the morning comes looking for me…

“Tonight is the last hoorah. I’m getting this six-pack and that’s going to be it. Do me a favor? If I come back in here, don’t serve to me.”

Last night at work, one of my favorite regulars came into the liquor store for (hopefully) the last time.

I don’t know what he does for a living. I don’t know his name. I’m pretty sure he doesn’t even know mine. But over the course of the last nine months he and I would always talk when he came in, whether it was about what kind of beer he was buying, what we were doing for the weekend, our problems with our boss and co-workers, and everything else that can be classified as small talk.

When he told me that he was going to treatment and this six-pack was his way of coming in to say good-bye, it made me sad. Sadder than I have been in a very, very long time. 

I almost wanted to tell him not to it, but I can’t do that. He knew he had a problem, we had talked about it. He mentioned he had been to treatment before and that he wasn’t worried and didn’t need luck. He sounded sad and defeated, almost ashamed that the last thing he was doing before going to get help was to come talk to people he barely knew and drinking a six pack of Wild Blue so he could go to sleep that night.

He will be missed. Some of our regulars are probably closer to us who work there than they are their family. 

I hope I see him again someday at Qdoba or Subway or in Sam’s Club and get the chance to talk and ask how he is doing. I hope I never have to see him at the store again and tell him to go home and stay sober. That is something I never want to do. I don’t think I would be able to handle it. 

Stay strong, liquor store buddy. This Blue Moon is for you.

I broke up with Facebook

Hi, my name is Drew, and two weeks ago I quit facebook and I feel great about it.

It was time. I had been a facebook member since my sophomore year of high school. I was introduced early by a friend’s cousin, and because I grew up in North Dakota, I became the fourth person in my high school to have a facebook account.

Slowly but surely, people I knew started getting facebook. Some of them were in college. They had pictures of them drinking and smoking hookah and were part of cool sounding groups that made references to Zoolander and Will Ferrell. Some of them were classmates who uploaded pictures of us at Homecoming and started poke wars with me.

Facebook was it, man. It was the end all, be all. The Holy Grail. Everything about me was on facebook, even my phone number and home address, because teenagers are dumb. Every movie quote and song lyric I liked, every book I ever read, all my favorite movies, and even my own group idolizing a blue bus were all on facebook.

But you all know this and you all did the exact same thing. I do not need to explain the greatness of facebook to you like you are my grandchildren sitting on my lap while I drink Old Milwaukee Light and talk about the old days. You are all aware of the power of facebook.

And that is why I had to leave.

To me, facebook was good for three things and bad for many, many more.

The good things:

1. Knowing when it is someone’s birthday
2. Keeping up with friends who live a long way away
3. Pictures of girls who don’t have jobs and live on the beach/lake all summer

These three things were pretty easy to get over when I actually thought about it.

Most everyone I know that I am friends with on facebook is already 21 years old. When was the last time anyone got legitimately excited about turning another year older after 21? Never, and neither should you.

Keeping in touch with friends in other states is pretty easy considering the inventions of text messaging, gchat, skype, email, and phone calls. Will you miss out on seeing pictures of their family reunions? Sure, but you will live, even if they have a really cute cousin.

Pictures of girls wearing swimsuits can be easily replaced with other websites and the fact that you have to remind yourself that those girls graduated with your younger sister and that is weird.

I don’t need facebook for any of those things I thought were necessary and I certainly don’t need facebook to stalk a cute girl I met at a party, only to find out she listens exclusively to Top 40 radio and her favorite book is 50 Shades of Grey. I didn’t need help continuing to not find a girl I could be interested in. I can do that by myself, facebook.

As for the girls I was still interested in after a late night of drinking and clicking through 1,342 pictures, facebook was only good for me knowing waaayyyy too much about her family without even meeting them and to send a personal message at 3:11 in the morning about how she should listen to Odd Future and that black and white movies would be a lot better if they were shot in HD and would allow all the redheaded women to be in color.

Facebook, it was a nice run. Six years is a long time. Those six years with you were longer than anything I’ve ever spent time with. I appreciate what you are doing, and I hope you continue to bring people happiness and endless amounts of joy, but for now this is it.

Until I get drunk and reactivate my facebook in a month. Then I’ll go back to hating myself again.

This is a story of how bad Drew is at timing

I work two jobs. Partly because I’m a college kid who is horrible at budgeting money so I need as much as I can possibly get, and secondly because I decided to pursue a career that is difficult to get into and had to support myself through seven months of an unpaid internship before I actually got paid by the company of said career choice.

As you can probably imagine, working two jobs doesn’t leave a lot of free time, especinally when one of the jobs comprises of a lot of closing shifts and the other is producing baseball games that don’t start until 7 pm. Going out to the bar has not been a common occurrence in my life over the past few months.

Last weekend I finally found myself with a night off on a Saturday night, which also happened to be move in weekend for the surrounding colleges, which meant a lot of friends who were gone for the summer were back in town.

This meant drinking was going to happen, and as soon as I got off of work at 5pm I promptly went home and had four strong whiskey-ginger ales within the hour. This made me feel quite nice.

I then went to my friend’s house where they were playing beer darts and just drinking in general. This lead to a few (five) beers before we headed back to my apartment to get ready for the bar. While everyone was getting man-pretty, I continued drinking beer and whiskey all the way up until we got to the bar (yes, I brought a drink with me for the ride to the bar).

After we got to the bar, things get quite fuzzy. I remember being very excited that the Twins were on the west coast, meaning the beer special for Twins games – $2.50 pints – was going to last later into the night than usual. Shots were involved, of course, and I briefly remember a trip to Taco Bell and a random apartment party at a friend’s place.

The next thing I knew I woke up in my friend’s bed, didn’t have my phone or my keys, and was not at my apartment and recollection of the night before.

Finally got back home to my place only to find none of my friends remembered anything and the seven of us that were assembled sat around for 90 minutes because none of had a car and couldn’t find a way to get back to them without walking or calling a cab (we finally got a ride, don’t worry).

Fast forward to a week later.

I somehow found myself with another Saturday night off, but I was tired and just wanted to stay in and watch preseason football like a lame while the rest of my friends went to the bar. I ended up taking a nap and watching Finding Nemo. I am an exciting person.

My roommates finally got home around 11:30 and started telling me about his night at the bar. It involved the usual stories about girls being dumb about things and girls who are good at dancing.

Then came the interesting part.

Edgar – “Dude, Kya was at the bar with us tonight.”

Drew – “Who is Kya?”

Edgar – “Oh, she was with us tonight. She’s pretty cool…wait, you know her. We met her last weekend.”

Drew – “We did? I blacked out last weekend.”

Edgar – “Yeah dude, she’s pretty cute too. In fact, you’re the one who introduced us to her. You just walked up and said, ‘Hi, my name is Drew. What’s your name?’, and you just kept talking to her and her friends so I just walked away and left you alone.”

Drew – “Are you serious? Shit.”

Edgar – “Haha yeah. She’s pretty cute too. You were pretty smooth too. I just left you alone. I didn’t know you were blacked out.”

Drew – “God dammit.”

Edgar – “I accidentally touched her boob tonight.”

So to recap: last weekend Drew got very, very drunk on the one night a month he goes to the bar, met a cute girl and seemingly got along with her, forgot everything because he was too drunk, the next week he took a nap and watched preseason football while his friends went to the bar and hung out with the cute girl he met the previous weekend, and his roommate touched her boob (on accident).

Hi, my name is Drew, and timing has always been an issue for me.

If you are going to date me, these are things you should know

1. If I can have a beer with my meal, I am going to have a beer with my meal.
2. I pick my nose. Not in a gross way, but in an I-don’t-want-boogers-in-my-nose way.
3. An ex-girlfriend of mine is now a lesbian.
4. Do not touch my radio. The music that I am listening to is on for a reason.
5. I love naps and will take them at anytime. If that means me laying on your stomach while you watch Reba, so be it, as long as I get to sleep.
6. I don’t do drama!!!!!
7. I don’t usually panic, but if I do it is going to be awkward.
8. We are not going to spend all day together and sleep together every night. I need my space. There are times where I will go to the bathroom for 10-15 minutes at a time just to be alone.
9. I will quote TV shows/movies/comedy specials a lot. I expect you to know all of them and will judge you if you do not.
10. I adore cute redheads. I won’t leave you for one, but I will definitely let you know if I see one.
11. Out of every eight jokes I tell, only one will be funny.
12. If you have to ask if I can drive home from the bar, then I can. You will know when I can’t.
13. I usually won’t notice if you change your hair or your clothes, unless it looks bad. If you look good I just assume that’s what you are going for and will just let it happen.
14. Sometimes I get drunk and tell anal sex jokes in public, and other times I am smart.
15. The word ‘period’ freaks me out. Do not talk about it. Ever.
16. I snore.
17. I have never bought a girl flowers. I bought a necklace once. I am not strong in either of these areas.
18. Strip clubs are fun. I’ve been to one and I plan on going to more.
19. I will write and/or tell jokes about you.
20. I can cook, but I don’t do it because I get bored and hungry half way through and would just rather make a sandwich.
21. You can hold my hand in public. Anything other than that will require discussion. I am not out to prove to the world that I am dating someone who will make out with me in front of Cinnabon.
22. I dance when I feel like it, which I can almost guarantee will not be when you want me to. I have a sweet spot when I’m drunk where I dance, but I have yet to pinpoint when that is.
23. I hate cats. And birds. Birds are for eating.
24. I watch porn. Not religiously, but enough to say that I do it.
25. There will be days when I don’t shower and just spend the day on the couch watching old movies on TCM and Netflix.
26. I am more likely to cook when I’m drunk at two in the morning than I am at any other time of the day.
27. Texting makes me mad. I hate it. I would rather just talk to you in person. If you text me more than four times I am most likely just going to call you.
28. Eye contact and strong handshakes are important to me.
29. I can’t do small talk. It often takes me between three and six times of talking to someone before learning their name. I also am bad at introducing my friends. You’ll need to cover me in public around people before I tell an awkward joke about anal sex.
30. I am bad at managing money, but I like to tell myself that I’ll work on it.
31. Even if you are good at it, I am not going to trust you to drive me anywhere.
32. If you bug me during a sporting event that I care about, I will yell at you. Somewhat out of love, but mostly out of hate.
33. At some point, I am going to get you mad at me on purpose.
34. I have a receding hairline that I am sensitive about but you won’t know until you bring it up, so don’t do it.
35. Awkward situations make me laugh. I cannot help it. 
36. I like my sandwiches to be cut into triangles, my coffee black, and 2% milk with my cereal.

in no particular order, my top nine of 2012

I’m only (not) sleeping

I do not sleep well. Lately, it has gotten pretty bad. This is essentially my thought process while trying to fall asleep.

10:30pm – get home from work, slightly buzzed (free whisky shooters!), going to watch a movie, have a few beers, hopefully become more sleepy

Midnight – movie over, tired, should sleep, but what about porn?

12:06 – okay, I should be able to sleep now, just let me get my iPod. Bob Dylan sounds good tonight

12:12 – love me some Bob Dylan, but only for three minutes at a time, which is a problem since his songs are so god damn long. Let’s switch to something else, side B of Mean Everything to Nothing.

12:45 – well that’s over, let’s listen to Tyler, the Creator rap about raping people

1:01 – my ears hurt and I want to roll onto my side but headphones are severely against that type of movement. Ditch the iPod, it is podcast time.

1:10 – remember that video of the white kid raping Burgers to Tyler? I NEED TO WATCH THAT RIGHT NOW

1:23 – found it

1:24 – okay, that wasn’t really worth it, but while I have my phone out I might as well see what twitter/instagram/tumblr is up to

1:34 – Shelby Fero is funnier than me. I still don’t get tumblr.

1:49 – SIMPSONS DOT GIF DOT TUMBLR DOT THISISAMAZING DOT COM

1:52 – podcast time now. For real.

1:53 – Greg Proops keeps talking about movies and baseball and stand up and I really need to get back on stage but I don’t think I want to but I’m going to lay here and thing of all the bits I used to tell seven months ago.

2:23 – podcast over. Time to finish the other podcast I fell asleep to last night.

2:46 – that one is over too. This pillow is uncomfortable. Maybe if I lay on my back and listen to Kanye West on my iPod I’ll fall asleep.

2:49 – Has any rapper lived longer off of one single verse than Nicki Minaj on Monster? I need to finish my OKCWGKTA post so I can relate to zero of my friends again.

3:03 – I am really bad at this. I should probably write about it.

3:12 – Well, my timeline caught up with me. Now what? Kanye is getting boring. Blues? No, not drunk enough, plus I forgot to put the beer in the fridge.

3:14 – Ugh, why won’t anyone retweet me? I thought my pizza tweet was pretty funny.

3:16 – thank God I don’t have internet access on my laptop right now. Maybe I’ll just play a few games of freecell

4:17 – the sun comes up really early now. I hate you, summer equinox.

I hate a girl, and that’s boring

I know how to read. Quite well actually, but occasionally I misread things. It happens on a daily basis, and it happened again today.

Twitter is a strange thing. This doesn’t really need to be explained to anyone: those who have twitter know what it is. Today, I saw a post that said “I hate a girl that’s boring”.

I read it as “I hate a girl, and that’s boring”, which you’ve probably figured out by now.

There is no real explainable reason as to why it appeared to me like that. Perhaps it was because I was busy catching up with a friend over coffee, or maybe because taking the time to hate someone is boring, and no one cares about it, especially the person projection the hate.

It takes a lot of time and effort to hate someone, and most things that require that much time and effort get boring, unless you’re getting paid to do it, and even still. Ever wonder how an athlete can get “burned out” playing a sport that pays them millions of dollars a year? Because that is all they’re doing, and that get’s boring.

Even still, I have instantly become obsessed with this phrase. Who hasn’t been in hate with someone so much that is boring to continue with the process? I know I have, which may by why it resonates so much.

The lesson here? Sometimes not being able to read can be worth it.