Oh internet, I've missed you. Let's not stay away that long again, ok?

A lot has been going on these past two weeks, mostly me sitting at home and working on homework. (Which roughly translates to me hugging myself and sobbing "why didn't I start this research/paper/project earlier?! Fuuuuck!") So instead of telling you the dozen versions of that story that went down just about every single day for the past few weeks, let's instead focus on the positive, shall we?

Gin
Last Thursday I went out to dinner with my parents. My thoughts were something along the lines of Drink! Drink! Drink! They’re totally paying! Drink!

However, since we were at a nice restaurant and not a dive bar, I was a bit at a loss of what to order. (I would really prefer not to enlighten my parents to the fact that I generally drink like a middle-aged man. That works with iron. Or lumber.) Most of the drinks on the drink menu were excessively fruity and sweet, and I just wasn’t in the mood. And then I saw it.

It was basically a fancy gin and tonic, dressed up with a little cucumber water (or something. It's hard for me to read a drink menu as the the tears of joy generally blur my vision). At any rate, it sounded delicious. The diehards among you may remember I had stayed away from gin for quite some time. (Over 4 years, actually. I can hold a grudge.)

Again, you may recall that gin is the only alcohol which I, for some time, absolutely could not drink (unlike my lovely, lovely vodka). Although why I waited over a whole 4 years to try gin again, I don't know. Oh. Wait. Yes...I do. Whiskey. Turns out - whiskey and I? Pretty much made for each other.

However, everyone likes something different now and then. So gin it was. I ordered the drink, quickly followed by another, and (you know where this is going) another. (I would have certainly had more had I not been with the parents. It's a balancing act trying to get them to believe that I don't have a drinking problem.)

So just like that, with three drinks down the hatch, my alcoholic Achilles' heel was gone for good.

This is very important - it means that I can now definitively kill in a drinking contest.

Most people have that a drink or drinks that they are absolutely defeated by. For most it is tequila or whiskey, for some, it's Jager shots. In a drinking contest where each participant takes turns calling the rounds, the goal is to find your opponent's weak spot and exploit the hell out of it. And as I discoverd last week, I no longer have a weak spot.

(You're going down.)

Beer
I have consumed more beer this past month than I did all of last year. (It's still not that much, but it's something.) Baseball season being in full swing will likely increase this trend, as there is nothing better than coming home from work, turning on the game, and having a cold beer.

(I don't know how I became a middle-aged man, but I'm not fighting it.)

School
I said I wouldn't bore you with tales of homework, but I didn't say the same for school. I have stayed in and had to miss out on so many social functions (ie, going to the bar) as of late that my laptop's keyboard no longer works properly from the torrent of tears that I have rained down on it.

(Staying in, especially when I really, really don't want to and really, really dislike what I'm working on, kills me just a little bit inside.)

I have a two-week break coming up between the end of the spring semester and the beginning of the summer semester, which I will be attending (!), full time (!!).

This is not good.

The light at the end of the tunnel: I will graduate in fall with a master's degree in library and information science. (How this actually seems to be working out ok, I have no fucking clue. Oh, and I have a 4.0. Again, no fucking clue.)

At this point I can but dream of how magical it will be to not be in school. Due to the near-constant drinking that this will allow, I give it a week, max, before I'm passed out in a gutter somewhere. This vision is the only thing keeping me going at this point. (That and the gin and the beer.)

And now we're back up to speed. Sorry to be so predictable, but the upside is that instead of waiting for updates on the site you can pretty much write this stuff yourself. "Blah blah blah drinking, blah blah blah crying while doing homework because I wish I was drinking."

Really, I'm a very consistent person. Except with, you know, posting.

Just to give you an idea of how this week is going for me, so far:

Last night, while I should have been at the bar with my friends, I was working on the most detailed and boring homework you can imagine. When I couldn't stand it any longer and was mere seconds away from smashing my laptop in two, I took a break and worked on my taxes.

…

Yeah. Pretty bad, right?

Thankfully, I’m only working two days this week (partly by design, partly by accident) and my weekend begins tonight at 9pm. I don't know if there is enough whiskey to make me forget the pain of staying in the past few days, but I'm willing to be experimental here.

Your birthday is tomorrow. I took the day off of work and everything, though I don’t know if I’m going to see you or not. I’m not a big fan of cemeteries.

What I will be doing, however, is a ton of drinking. So yeah, it will totally be a departure from normal.

Cheers.

Why yes, yes I am.

I just headed out for my afternoon coffee (I’m working 6 days this week, which means that my weekend is still a few hours away, and damn it, I need chemicals if I’m ever going to make it!) and ran into perhaps the most loathsome creature on the face of earth: the tweener.

Now, I’m not a big fan of youth in general. Lately I’m liking kids slightly more than I used to (which was not at all), and I’m fine with teens (they’re mellower, or at least stoned), but these damn eleven and twelve-year-olds are serious studies in assholery. They don’t want to be classified as “kids” and therefore challenge everything they come in contact with, without the mindfulness or sense of purpose that (many) teenagers have. (Dudes, you know it’s bad when you’re making teenagers look smart.)

I ran into one such creature outside of the 7-11. A young boy, couldn’t be more than 11, asked me if I would buy him cigarettes if he gave me money. I replied something to the lines of “Fuck no, those things are gross” (hey, I hadn’t had any coffee yet. And they are gross. Unless I've had a few drinks. Then can I bum one? Thanks!). Without missing a beat he looked me in the eye and came back with “No, you’re gross.”

Oh yeah? (How the fuck did he know?! Did he read about me puking blood? Damn kids and their internet!) Well guess what? I'm also petty, immature, and mean (ask anyone).

I continued into 7-11 (priorities: chemicals), got my dollar worth of wonderfulness, and went back outside. “Hey, what kind did you want?” I asked the kid, still outside. “Um, whatever.” “Fine, give me the money.” He handed over a 20 (freaking rich kids). I thanked him, turned around, and got into my car. He looked around frantically, but didn’t say anything or try to get it back.

Because I’m not a thief (unless drunk), I pulled up in front of the 7-11, tore his twenty in half, crumpled it up, and threw it at him. (It was at this point that the warm glow of satisfaction settled in my chest cavity.)

I know I should feel bad about this, or at least, shouldn’t feel good. I know victories over 5th graders are not that hard to come by (despite what television would have you believe) and laughing at someone younger, less educated, and less experienced than yourself is really just kind of sad.

But it made me smile. (Again, those were: petty, immature, mean.)

Other than that, I've been ridiculously well behaved this week (the return to work/school from Spring Break has totally and completely crushed my spirit) but I'm off now until Monday, and I'm only working through Wednesday. It should be interesting.

Cheers.

I've been watching video clips of how to make various alcoholic beverages for the past hour or so.

This may just be a better use for the computer than porn.

I’m back, and I’m alive. (There was cause for concern for a day or two, there.) Tuesday was my first day back at work after a week off for Spring Break, and I’ve been slowly reacquainting myself to normal life (not going to bed at 6am, not drinking pint glasses of whiskey) since then.

I originally thought taking time off for Spring Break (yes, it’s capitalized. It’s like a national holiday for me) would allow me to sleep in, get in a few good nights out with friends, and take care of a lot of things that I needed to get done. To see how well this worked out, let’s look at the things that I was supposed to get done during Spring Break:

One of the many, many great things about delaying true adulthood by continuing education can be summed up in two words: Spring Break. Seriously, if I am in college until I am 30, it will all be worth it for this one week. And I know how to do it right. (Keep in mind that “right” for me does not involve frat boys, GHB, or too much sunlight – I burn easily.)

Probably the best spring break so far happened two years back. I met up with two girlfriends in Vegas, drank heavily, gambled a bit, and saw Motley Crue.

(Us getting drunk in the room before the show. Like my whore makeup? Turns out that's why you should get ready before you start pounding Jack. Live and learn.)

I had just finished reading The Dirt: Confessions of the World's Most Notorious Rock Band and was ready for onstage debauchery of every kind. The closest it came was a Boobcam (specially designed, I’m sure) that panned over the audience, pausing to allow girls to flash, and then relaying that visual onscreen.

(No, I did not.)

(I wasn’t drinking any tequila that night, that’s why.)

Regardless, it was a great night, and probably the only time that I’ve elicited disgust from a large group of people, in Vegas (they’re not generally a fussy bunch). After the show (meaning, we were very, very drunk) a friend and I were playing blackjack at a table. She was smoking, or rather, trying to smoke, and ended up ashing all over the table. Seeing this, as well as the hostile looks from the dealer and other players, was for some reason hilarious to me, and when I laughed I may or may not have sprayed my corner of the table with Jack and Coke.

Me (seeing the dealer look around for security): Uh, I think we should move on.
Her: Yeah, let’s go to the bar!

(This is the same girlfriend that I went to Vegas with just a few months ago. We drove there and got in around 2am and drank steadily until 10am, when we stumbled into our hotel room. We couldn’t sleep, and rather than try a warm bath, or perhaps a Tylenol PM, we decided to head home. The first 10 minutes of the trip home were spent belting out Tom Petty at the top of our lungs and exclaiming how totally awake we were, immediately followed by me passing out and possibly drooling on myself. Sexy.)

So you can see that I have a lot of work to do this week to ensure that this spring break is up to par. Good thing I took the week off of work. (Yes, really. I wouldn’t joke about that.) If I live through this week, hopefully I’ll have some good stories for you all. If not, I would like Everybody Dance Now to be played at the funeral. It would be worth it for the looks of confusion. And it’s a really fucking hard song to not move (at least head-bob, toe-tap) to.