How To Make This Memorial Day Weekend Fun, Fun, Fun

It's that time again. The unofficial kickoff to the summer. Back when I was in high school we would go down to the shore, rent a hotel/motel for the weekend, kick back, and drink some beer. Lots and lots of beer. Of course, I don't condone such behavior because I was a wayyyy mature 17-year-old. Now it seems as I get a little bit older, it's losing its luster. I'm no longer sleeping in a bed with 4 other people passed out drunk. Nor am I vomiting on those 4 people. Instead I go to friends' houses and sit and relax and barbecue and calmly drink beers. It's amazing what can happen in 6 years time. So I've taken the liberty to concoct all the ways that you can still have fun this weekend.

1.) Stop updating what you're doing on Facebook - I don't know how many updates I've seen for the past week or two about people proclaiming their excitement for this impending weekend. I don't give a fuck that your are going to Bethany Beach, Dewey Beach, OBX (Outer Bankxxx), Miami, Las Vegas, or wherever the fuck else you bothered me with. Facebook is a social medium thats intended use is so I can stalk your pictures. Or your previous boyfriends. I don't need to see the constant updates about how excited you are. Fuck you.

2.) Stop updating what you're doing on Twitter - Same deal. But this time it bothers me more. Stop ranting about how much packing you have to do. As far as I'm concerned, MDW is a 4-day weekend, tops. How much shit are you fucking packing? Do you plan on moving to the beach? If so, I could give two shits less. I like going on Twitter to see people make fun of some random person they don't know. Or for some philosophical shit. Not your play-by-play as to how the traffic is, where you are going, who's going with you. None of it. If I'm not involved, I don't fucking care. So leave Twitter alone. Please.

(So really the first two were for my sake, and I'm pretty much the only one who matters, so...)

3.) Avoid your parents at all costs - Unless your parents are fun as shit, which I doubt, exclude them from all of your plans. Actually, I think you should go the extra mile to ensure that you are somewhere that they won't be. I don't want to have family time, I don't want to sit and eat Chilean Sea Bass from the grill and drink wine coolers, I don't want to eat your organic, nitrates-free hot dogs, and I don't want to listen about your problems. I would prefer to be with my friends, making everyone feel awkward as I describe the parts of the male genitalia, and get hammer-drunk. These are things I can't do if mommy and daddy are around. The same reasons probably apply to you.

4.) Bring condoms - They say that the most pregnancies occur each year on Memorial Day Weekend. People are so excited for the summer that they are willing to have sex with anything that has a pulse and two legs. That's good news for me because I am ready, willing, and able. Plus, they are probably really slutty and will let you do anything you want to them. In that Kanye West/Katy Perry "E.T." song when he raps "And then Imma probe you" he has to be referring the butthole right? Every alien abduction case I ever read about includes an anal probing, not a vaginal or oral one. Well to get back on point, I think most of the girls will be up for probing this weekend as well. So add "lubrication" to your list that includes condoms.

5.) Just get hammer drunk - Even if you get stuck with your parents, everything is better when you're hammer drunk. It's even better when you're with friends. Anything can happen when everyone is smashed. Games of "Kings" in which people are getting naked, girls going to pee in laundry rooms because they are that out of it, pissing yourself, sleeping on a trampoline. All these things are possible and likely if you black out with your friends and have a group sleepover. Group sleepovers are underrated and that's usually when the most fun occurs. So it would be in your best interest to sleep with all of your friends and hope for the best. That's why we went to college, duh.

This MDW I will be alone in my room playing Dungeons & Dragons being bitter that everyone is having so much fun and having sex and being drunk and updating their Twitter and Facebook about how much fun they are having. But it will all be thanks to me that you are having that much fun. All because you read my blog and got some ideas. Ideas that only I could think of because "I am better than you."

St. Patrick's Day Has Come Early. Why America Drinks For No Reason

March 17 is a "national" holiday. I say "national" because people still have work on it, but it's considered to be something that everyone celebrates in some regard. It is on this day that we all become Irish. Looking back at what I was taught growing up, St. Patrick's Day was a day to celebrate an Irishmen who lifted the boundaries on the Catholic teaching and became an icon of sorts. So we celebrate in America because we are all Catholic? No, I'm mistaken. We celebrate it because we are all Irish. Nope, that doesn't sound right either. The real reason we celebrate it is because Americans are alcoholics and find it necessary to get hammered for no real reason.

Think about it. There appears to be one day in every month that we find a reason to get fucked up. In January, we have Martin Luther King Jr. Day, February has the Super Bowl, March has St. Patty's, April has my birthday, May has Cinco de Mayo (Mexican Independence), June has Flag Day, July has Independence Day, August has the end of summer day somewhere in there, September has Labor Day, October has Halloween, November has Thanksgiving, and December has Christmas or Hanukkah. There you have it. A run-down of all the reasons we find to drink as a country. Why?

Alcoholism. Mitch Hedburg once said, "Alcoholism is the only disease you can get yelled at for having." But let's be honest with ourselves. Deep down we are all a little bit alcoholics. Who's to say that a glass of wine or 2 with dinner is wrong? Or watching Legends of the Hidden Temple and having a drink every time Kirk Fogg touches a kid. It's okay to have a drinking problem, as long as you don't drive or beat the shit out of your partner, Chris Brown. Life presents some very difficult challenges and stresses, and sometimes the only way to alleviate it is with a drink. But you shouldn't get carried away.

Beerfest is a film that celebrates the kookiness and spontaneity of drinking. Games and chugging contests. What isn't fun about drinking? Nothing. Everything is fun. You get to make excuses for making out with ugly people or doing worse things. You get to throw up and/or dry-heave for a solid 5-10 minute ab workout. Heck, you can even find a reason to sleep-in the whole next day. Of course we find days to drink. Everything about it is great. Everything that is but the almighty hangover. How some freakshows never end up with one is beyond me, but maybe, just maybe one day, I'll figure out the mystery to end the hangover. It's more important than world hunger, in my opinion.

This weekend is going to be a real special one for me. I'm going to see some friends from college for the first time since I left their beautiful faces in May. Sometimes it's hard for me to imagine that it was that long ago. But time flies when you're unemployed and living at home. So I would like to take this time to thank Mr. St. Patrick for finding three-leaf-clovers and keeping the tradition of Catholicism alive and prevalent. Because without you Patty, us Americans would have to find another reason to get tanked. But I won't need another reason to tell you, "I am better than you."

***Photo courtesy of http://unrealitymag.com/wpcon

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Celery: Sometimes The Devil Wears Green, Not Prada

As most of my college friends know, I have a problem with celery. This problem stalks, I mean starts with a very unfortunate incident that took place too many years ago. For those of you who don't know the "Celery Story", brace yourselves because it is easily the shittiest and worst of all my terrible stories. Just so you know, I withheld this story from my closest friends until I graduated college. That's four years of amping up a story that has no bearing whatsoever on you at all. Yet, I kept building and building until finally they didn't care about it anymore. And just like that graduation came and the story was told. And no, celery was never stuck up my ass like some had suggested. Here we go.

It was around the year 2000. A new millenium. A time to embrace Y2K. A time to visit my grandmother's house. My grandmother was very close to me, so I never minded going to her house. Plus, she always had Twizzlers. So my mom, sister, and me venture over to her house to hang out on a Saturday afternoon. The typical Saturday involved going out to eat, maybe a little shopping and the eventual storytelling for 15 hours. Those Saturday's were the best. Nothing to worry about. No hangover, no problem.

Since I was always a phenomenal athlete and a registered in-shape guru, I had probably run like 30 miles earlier in the day in about 20 minutes. Which meant that I was really thirsty. Like I had never been before. And my sister was also just as thirsty, oddly. So we ask our grandmother what she had for us. It was either going to be a glass of water (Blah!). People who drink water are clearly the most boring people you will ever meet. Or it was going to be Dr. Brown's Celery Soda. Yes, you read that correctly. Celery Soda. A concoction of celery, carbon, and sugar. And God knows what other shit bottling companies throw in there.

Those who are very close to me know I'm not much of a risk taker. Very conservative thinker with my best intentions in mind. Today was a different day though because I chose to drink the Celery Soda. Writing this down right now is very difficult for me. So I crack open the can and take a sip. Putrid. Vomit-inducing. The taste is the absolute worst thing I have ever put in my mouth. My gut tells me no more, but my brain says finish it. So I chug the remainder of the can, like a dumb ass. The biggest mistake I have ever made in an otherwise perfect life. My sister isn't much of a fan either, but she maintains to keep it together.

I'm miserable for the rest of the day there. No amount of Twizzlers will subdue the shit I just swallowed. In fact, shit may have been a better choice to swallow at that point in time. Regardless, we get home and I brush my teeth and head to sleep. I awake at 2:30 a.m. to produce a healthy amount of vomit into my trash. Puking my guts up like I was beyond blacked out. I go brush my teeth again to reduce the taste of vomit/celery in my mouth, but nothing will do. I go back to sleep. The next morning I wake up and make a pledge to myself to never go near celery again.

Chicken Wings are now ruined if they touch celery. When my mom makes soup, I need to leave because the scent of celery makes me naseous. Celery is officially banned from my life. What also bothers me about celery, is that girls eat it because it's the only food that burns more calories than it contains or some yuppy shit like that. How about just working out, instead of putting that devilish, disgusting product in your mouth? I don't respect people who eat celery or threaten to put it in my mouth, ears, or nostrils when I am sleeping. Let this be a lesson to all of you that I do not tolerate celery or those who eat it. If you are a friend and you want to remain friends, then stop eating it. I won this battle because I always tell celery that, "I am better than you."