NSFM
So, my buddy Kameleon and I like to hang out and drink at this one bar called the Audubon Ale House. Unlike Good Ole Days from my 21st birthday story, this place is actually nice. I know 4 of the bartenders well enough to get away with shit most other people can't (i.e.: relentless flirting with the female bartenders). Last night, we went there (yes it's a Monday, but I'm on vacation, so back off) for the Denver-San Diego game. He's from San Diego, so he was enjoying himself at the massacre. However, the night wasn't story worthy, so I just present a bunch of quotes that I can remember:
Me - Did she just say that the Beatles were overrated?
Random Guy - Yeah. She doesn't know what she's talking about.
Kameleon - (about bartender) She clearly was not hired for her brain.
Kameleon - My dad was a defensive coordinator. He told us to keep our head up so that we don't tackle the grass.
Me - I'm sorry, I was distracted. (I wonder what I was looking at)
Me - It's a good thing you told me to come out when you did. I was doing so bad at Black Ops that I probably would have snapped my disc in half had I played one more game.
Kameleon - I'm buying shots for that whole side of the bar. Him, me, Kas, [redacted], De, Other Bartender, Her B/F, Do, Sean. So 7.
Bartender with Assets - (confused look)
Me - 9
Kameleon - Oh, shit. Your right. 9
BWA - (shakes head and walks away)
Friends in Low Places comes on the jukebox.
BWA - (to Random Guy) Did you place this shit?
Me - It was me.
BWA - I used to like this song. I would sing it in my car, and people would think I was crazy. Until they overplayed it in bars and what-not. (starts walking away) It's ok, I still love you, though.
Me - (to Kameleon) Did she say that she loved me?
Kameleon - I think she said she still loved you. I heard it in retrospect.
Me - So, we've been talking here for a while. What's your name?
Random Girl - Christin.
Me - Oh, awesome. That's my mom's name.
Christin - How does she spell it?
Me - With a K.
Christin - Mine's spelled C-H-R-I-S-T-I-N. Like Christine, but without the E. My parents were weird.
C.D.
P.S. - I'm sorry I lied to her, mom. She just really wasn't that bright, and I wanted to screw with her. And thank god she's never seen I Love You, Man.
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
The 21st Birthday Shaming
So, I recently had a conclusion. It was today, in fact. Right as I was getting back from lunch. This is a conclusion that I needed to come to, sooner or later, to take this blog in the direction that I feel that it should head. I need to declare this blog Not Safe For Minors To Read. That's right. I had to say it. As involved in a youth group as I am, I feel it necessary. I want to be a good role model for them, but at the same time, there's some stories that I would like to share that really aren't all that good for them to read. Therefore, in the beginning of those blog posts, I'll have written NSFM (not safe for minors) for various different reasons. Most of them cussing. And that's because, if I want to quote people, I want to do it accurately, and I can't do that without the cussing. Also, I will modifying people's names. I don't want people to be identified without their consent. So, now that that's out there...
NSFM
It's time to write about my 21st birthday.
I would like to preface this story by saying that I suffer from foot-in-mouth syndrome. I have this uncanny habit of saying things that will come back to bite me in the ass later. You'll see what I mean, as illustrated by this story.
I would also like to preface this story by saying that preface is the least manly word you can say without having a vagina.
If you want to know anything about me, it's that in college, I could drink. I could hang with anyone, drinking anything. My Achilles heal is tequila. I was not afraid to let anyone know, especially the week leading up to it. This is an actual conversation:
Me - Don't give me tequila. I will puke.
Guinea - Ok.
Me - I'm fucking serious. Don't do it.
Guinea - Duly noted.
Well, we'll flash forward to my 21st. We decide to go down to Good Ole Days. It's basically a little shit-in-the-hole bar in a college town that specializes in helping college students become alcoholics. The place was decrepit and always smelt like a mixture of stale beer, urine, and vomit. I loved this place.
We got there at about 11 on a Wednesday night. My actual birthday was a Thursday. Standing outside with the bouncer holding my ID, he continuously looked at me, then my ID, then me. And he kept doing this until:
Me - I know. I turn 21 at midnight.
Bouncer - Then come back at midnight.
Foot. In. Mouth. I did get slapped in the back of the head for this. We then went to Naps.
-SIDE BAR-
If you're ever in Bloomsburg, go to Naps and order a chicken cheese steak big mouth. Your heart might explode from the cholesterol coursing through your veins, but at least you'll die happy.
-END SIDE BAR-
A couple slices of pizza were ordered for me, and were placed in front of me with a shit eating grin. I can't remember who got the pizza, but judging by the grin, it was suspicious. I was worried. With good reason. Foreshadowing is a bitch.
We decide to head back to Good Ole Days at 11:30, because fuck that bouncer. He was still there. He looked at us, shook his head, said "If you come in, you're not leaving until after midnight", and let us in.
The group that entered the bar was as follows: Reed, Choate, Kola, Kivs, Guinea, Merz, CB, and Dermes.
I can't remember all the shots in order of how they came, but some of them were your just pour-and-serve (Jager, vodka, rum, etc). I know there was a kamikaze in there somewhere. There were also some shitty ones, like a Prairie Fire. The beers flowed, the shots went down.
There's 3 unspoken rules about turning 21: 1) The person who's birthday it is CANNOT refuse a shot, for any reason; 2) The person who's birthday it is must keep a list of what shots he/she took, in order, to watch that person's handwriting get sloppier and sloppier; and 3) There's always 2 shots purchased: one for the birthday boy, one for the purchaser. Rule #3 will be ignored here.
Since there's 8 guys out with me, and their sense of timing sucks, I kept getting the shots backed up. They kept buying, but they were buying faster than I could consume. I would take a shot, they would buy another, and put it behind the next. One shot that got placed in that mix was a Cement Mixer. I was allowed to not take this one because it had curdled waiting for me to take it. That's how long the wait was. Fucking guys.
I don't remember much of my list, but I do remember a few right in the middle of list:
No. 9 was a Minesweeper. For those who don't know, you get 1 shot of vodka, 1 shot of gin, and 2 shots of water. You're supposed to mix them up, so you don't know what order you're taking the shots, much like the computer game, Minesweeper. For maximum effectiveness, you should have at least 3 people mix them up. We did that. I mixed it up 2nd. As I took them, I got commentary, just judging by the look on my face:
Kola - "Gin... water... Vodka, fuck!... water... You lucky bastard, you got the luckiest combo!"
Not really. The best way to do it is gin, vodka, water, water.
The rest of the memory is 10) 3 Wise Men, 11) Dirty Girl Scout, 12) Red Headed Slut, 13) Purple Haze.
It was 12:15 at this point. Oh, yeah. I didn't mention that before.
So, it's a little after 12:30, and I've already downed 20 shots, and at least 3 beers. I had the list to prove this somewhere, but unfortunately, with the many residential moves I've made in the past years, I've misplaced the list. There's empty shot glasses and pitchers strewn across the table. And over walks Guinea with shot number 21.
Me - What is this?
Guinea - Just take it, you pussy.
Me - (slams shot) What the FUCK was that?
Guinea - I think you know.
Me - (reaching for a pitcher before he says "you") You mother fu--- BLLLAAAHHHHH!
Remember how I said foot-in-mouth. Well, as I was told in the future, Choate, Kola, Reed, and Guinea all huddled up, and were actually concerned for my safety, since I downed 20 shots in an hour. I called their bluff, and they were legitimately worried. Since it was Guinea's turn to make the purchase, he went for the kill. I was busy with 19 and 20. I didn't see this. You already know what the shot was.
As I'm walking to the bathroom puking in a pitcher from the Cuervo Guinea used to save my life, Kola walked with me so that I wouldn't walk into shit, but mostly so that he could take a piss. As I get into the bathroom, and puke into the toilet, I use my awesomeness to pour the contents of the pitcher into the toilet WHILE I WAS PUKING AND DIDN'T GET SHIT ON ME.
And then it happened. I saw a rainbow come out of my mouth. Purple, then Red, then Green, then Opaque Brown. And then nothing. I just stopped. This baffled Kola. He looked over at me.
Kola - You all right, man?
Me - Yeah. What's next?
That's right. A lot of people do the puke. I manned up and did the fucking rally as well. We went to a few more bars, but every time we left one, a few of the group tapered out. And, at the end of the night, I went home, by myself, and passed out watching SportCenter and eating Ramen at 3:30 in the morning. That's right. The person who's supposed to be unconscious first was the one who lasted the longest. I was the fucking man.
Until the next day, when I tried to wake up for my 11 AM class.
And preceded to go back to sleep. Because I felt like I would have died had I gone.
I then tried to get up for my 3:30. Because I'm retarded or something. I didn't feel up to walking to class, so my buddy, J-Crew McFly, borrowed Kola's car to drive me to class. The problem is that this is early September. It's still hot out. And he has leather seats.
At the time we leave, I only really have a headache. After we get to campus, it's much worse. Screw class, I'm going to the closest bathroom. In the Student Services Center. And I don't have to piss.
Needless to say, I didn't make it to class. It took me over an hour to get back home. Why? Because I stopped at every bench I could find, to sit on and put my head between my knees. And this was only the second worst hangover I've ever had (another story). I got home, and took a 3 hour nap. When I woke up, I was to get to the kitchen and make a Hot Pocket. I was feeling fine enough to go out again, so I did. When I got to the bar, I was greeted at the door with a drink.
D Hard - Drink this.
Me - I'm hungover as shit.
D Hard - I don't care. You said it was your birthday weekend. You're drinking this.
Oh, did I mention I told people that it was my birthday weekend, and if they saw me out and bought me a drink I would drink it? Yeah. Ooops.
Nothing really of note happened throughout the rest of the weekend, but this taught me to think before I talk.
C. D.
NSFM
It's time to write about my 21st birthday.
I would like to preface this story by saying that I suffer from foot-in-mouth syndrome. I have this uncanny habit of saying things that will come back to bite me in the ass later. You'll see what I mean, as illustrated by this story.
I would also like to preface this story by saying that preface is the least manly word you can say without having a vagina.
If you want to know anything about me, it's that in college, I could drink. I could hang with anyone, drinking anything. My Achilles heal is tequila. I was not afraid to let anyone know, especially the week leading up to it. This is an actual conversation:
Me - Don't give me tequila. I will puke.
Guinea - Ok.
Me - I'm fucking serious. Don't do it.
Guinea - Duly noted.
Well, we'll flash forward to my 21st. We decide to go down to Good Ole Days. It's basically a little shit-in-the-hole bar in a college town that specializes in helping college students become alcoholics. The place was decrepit and always smelt like a mixture of stale beer, urine, and vomit. I loved this place.
We got there at about 11 on a Wednesday night. My actual birthday was a Thursday. Standing outside with the bouncer holding my ID, he continuously looked at me, then my ID, then me. And he kept doing this until:
Me - I know. I turn 21 at midnight.
Bouncer - Then come back at midnight.
Foot. In. Mouth. I did get slapped in the back of the head for this. We then went to Naps.
-SIDE BAR-
If you're ever in Bloomsburg, go to Naps and order a chicken cheese steak big mouth. Your heart might explode from the cholesterol coursing through your veins, but at least you'll die happy.
-END SIDE BAR-
A couple slices of pizza were ordered for me, and were placed in front of me with a shit eating grin. I can't remember who got the pizza, but judging by the grin, it was suspicious. I was worried. With good reason. Foreshadowing is a bitch.
We decide to head back to Good Ole Days at 11:30, because fuck that bouncer. He was still there. He looked at us, shook his head, said "If you come in, you're not leaving until after midnight", and let us in.
The group that entered the bar was as follows: Reed, Choate, Kola, Kivs, Guinea, Merz, CB, and Dermes.
I can't remember all the shots in order of how they came, but some of them were your just pour-and-serve (Jager, vodka, rum, etc). I know there was a kamikaze in there somewhere. There were also some shitty ones, like a Prairie Fire. The beers flowed, the shots went down.
There's 3 unspoken rules about turning 21: 1) The person who's birthday it is CANNOT refuse a shot, for any reason; 2) The person who's birthday it is must keep a list of what shots he/she took, in order, to watch that person's handwriting get sloppier and sloppier; and 3) There's always 2 shots purchased: one for the birthday boy, one for the purchaser. Rule #3 will be ignored here.
Since there's 8 guys out with me, and their sense of timing sucks, I kept getting the shots backed up. They kept buying, but they were buying faster than I could consume. I would take a shot, they would buy another, and put it behind the next. One shot that got placed in that mix was a Cement Mixer. I was allowed to not take this one because it had curdled waiting for me to take it. That's how long the wait was. Fucking guys.
I don't remember much of my list, but I do remember a few right in the middle of list:
No. 9 was a Minesweeper. For those who don't know, you get 1 shot of vodka, 1 shot of gin, and 2 shots of water. You're supposed to mix them up, so you don't know what order you're taking the shots, much like the computer game, Minesweeper. For maximum effectiveness, you should have at least 3 people mix them up. We did that. I mixed it up 2nd. As I took them, I got commentary, just judging by the look on my face:
Kola - "Gin... water... Vodka, fuck!... water... You lucky bastard, you got the luckiest combo!"
Not really. The best way to do it is gin, vodka, water, water.
The rest of the memory is 10) 3 Wise Men, 11) Dirty Girl Scout, 12) Red Headed Slut, 13) Purple Haze.
It was 12:15 at this point. Oh, yeah. I didn't mention that before.
So, it's a little after 12:30, and I've already downed 20 shots, and at least 3 beers. I had the list to prove this somewhere, but unfortunately, with the many residential moves I've made in the past years, I've misplaced the list. There's empty shot glasses and pitchers strewn across the table. And over walks Guinea with shot number 21.
Me - What is this?
Guinea - Just take it, you pussy.
Me - (slams shot) What the FUCK was that?
Guinea - I think you know.
Me - (reaching for a pitcher before he says "you") You mother fu--- BLLLAAAHHHHH!
Remember how I said foot-in-mouth. Well, as I was told in the future, Choate, Kola, Reed, and Guinea all huddled up, and were actually concerned for my safety, since I downed 20 shots in an hour. I called their bluff, and they were legitimately worried. Since it was Guinea's turn to make the purchase, he went for the kill. I was busy with 19 and 20. I didn't see this. You already know what the shot was.
As I'm walking to the bathroom puking in a pitcher from the Cuervo Guinea used to save my life, Kola walked with me so that I wouldn't walk into shit, but mostly so that he could take a piss. As I get into the bathroom, and puke into the toilet, I use my awesomeness to pour the contents of the pitcher into the toilet WHILE I WAS PUKING AND DIDN'T GET SHIT ON ME.
And then it happened. I saw a rainbow come out of my mouth. Purple, then Red, then Green, then Opaque Brown. And then nothing. I just stopped. This baffled Kola. He looked over at me.
Kola - You all right, man?
Me - Yeah. What's next?
That's right. A lot of people do the puke. I manned up and did the fucking rally as well. We went to a few more bars, but every time we left one, a few of the group tapered out. And, at the end of the night, I went home, by myself, and passed out watching SportCenter and eating Ramen at 3:30 in the morning. That's right. The person who's supposed to be unconscious first was the one who lasted the longest. I was the fucking man.
Until the next day, when I tried to wake up for my 11 AM class.
And preceded to go back to sleep. Because I felt like I would have died had I gone.
I then tried to get up for my 3:30. Because I'm retarded or something. I didn't feel up to walking to class, so my buddy, J-Crew McFly, borrowed Kola's car to drive me to class. The problem is that this is early September. It's still hot out. And he has leather seats.
At the time we leave, I only really have a headache. After we get to campus, it's much worse. Screw class, I'm going to the closest bathroom. In the Student Services Center. And I don't have to piss.
Needless to say, I didn't make it to class. It took me over an hour to get back home. Why? Because I stopped at every bench I could find, to sit on and put my head between my knees. And this was only the second worst hangover I've ever had (another story). I got home, and took a 3 hour nap. When I woke up, I was to get to the kitchen and make a Hot Pocket. I was feeling fine enough to go out again, so I did. When I got to the bar, I was greeted at the door with a drink.
D Hard - Drink this.
Me - I'm hungover as shit.
D Hard - I don't care. You said it was your birthday weekend. You're drinking this.
Oh, did I mention I told people that it was my birthday weekend, and if they saw me out and bought me a drink I would drink it? Yeah. Ooops.
Nothing really of note happened throughout the rest of the weekend, but this taught me to think before I talk.
C. D.
Sunday, November 14, 2010
3D in Madden 11
Ok, so I have to start this post off with the notation that I am a gamer. However, I'm not the delusional gamer that most people run across over the internet. I don't own at any single game, but I can hold my own. You know these types.
I'm also going to preface this with a little short story. I signed into Live one night last week, and hooked up in a party with my buddy Choate. We're just talking, shooting the breeze, catching up with each other, and he asks the question, "Did Kola mention anything to you about Madden in 3D?" I was confused at this point, as I hadn't even heard of it at this point. He briefly explained it, and told me I should ask him the next time I played with him. In pops our buddy PJ. I asked him about Kola's love for Madden in 3D, and his response was "Oh, god." But he said it in a deflating way, knowing full well that Kola is acting like a third grader.
Well, in pops Kola later that evening. He starts off with this: "You know, when I sign on, and it says 3 Friends Online, and I notice which three they are, I'm fully tempted to just sign off." Well, after about 3 minutes of insults and the usual with these friends of mine, I had to ask: "Hey, Kola. I haven't heard anything about Madden being in 3D. What's it all about?" He immediately went defensive, because PJ and Choate both chuckled. He said things like "Are you screwing with me?" and his personal favorite "F*ck off."
Well after about 10 minutes of cooling him off, I finally was comfortable enough to start asking more questions, along the lines of "Tell me more about it." He went on to explain that, through Doritos codes, you can turn Madden into a 3D experience. You would just need to get normal 3D glasses, you know the kind that used to look at 3D pictures when you were 9. He did this with the quiet enthusiasm as a kid on Christmas Eve. After he was done, my reaction was "That sounds really, really... Toolish.", although I used a different word. Kola replied with a very angry "F*ck you."
While I did get him good (which is a semi-rare occurrence), I feel it necessary to explain why I think this is an awful idea.
1) You'll Look Like A Tool
It's bad enough that, to communicate over XBox Live you must wear a headset. You may feel like a war general or an NFL coach, but in reality, to people outside of the gaming experience you're having at that moment, you sound like you're arguing with your imaginary friends, and losing. Now throw in some 3D glasses. Now imagine anyone who has any amount of respect for you walks past the room and sees you with glasses on where one side of the frame is red and the other blue. A little piece of them just died because of how stupid you look.
2) You'll Feel Like A Tool
Now that I've brought it up in the point, good luck not feeling like a tool playing the game that way. You're welcome.
3) The Technology Exists.
They have 3D TV's. They have pictures of kindergartners finger paints, that when you look at them with crossed eyes, you see a schooner. The entire world is in 3D. The people in the military have invented a missile that will pinpoint the beard on a goat in Islamabad, Pakistan, and will blow up just the goat and not harm anything, or anyone, else in the process. However, they can't make a game that will be 3D without the help of some spectacles? Screw you, EA!
4) 3D Movies (Usually) Blow
I'm not talking about the plot here. I'm talking about the fact that this is a 2D game, where a 3D element is placed over it in the end, much like most of the 3D movies that have come out. None of them, save a couple (Avatar comes to mind) were filmed or developed with 3D in mind. If you want to read about it, click here, and scroll to the bottom.
In conclusion, Kola, I'm not attacking you. I'm attacking people who get excited over stupid crap. Wait, that's you in this instance. I guess I'm sorry.
I'm also going to preface this with a little short story. I signed into Live one night last week, and hooked up in a party with my buddy Choate. We're just talking, shooting the breeze, catching up with each other, and he asks the question, "Did Kola mention anything to you about Madden in 3D?" I was confused at this point, as I hadn't even heard of it at this point. He briefly explained it, and told me I should ask him the next time I played with him. In pops our buddy PJ. I asked him about Kola's love for Madden in 3D, and his response was "Oh, god." But he said it in a deflating way, knowing full well that Kola is acting like a third grader.
Well, in pops Kola later that evening. He starts off with this: "You know, when I sign on, and it says 3 Friends Online, and I notice which three they are, I'm fully tempted to just sign off." Well, after about 3 minutes of insults and the usual with these friends of mine, I had to ask: "Hey, Kola. I haven't heard anything about Madden being in 3D. What's it all about?" He immediately went defensive, because PJ and Choate both chuckled. He said things like "Are you screwing with me?" and his personal favorite "F*ck off."
Well after about 10 minutes of cooling him off, I finally was comfortable enough to start asking more questions, along the lines of "Tell me more about it." He went on to explain that, through Doritos codes, you can turn Madden into a 3D experience. You would just need to get normal 3D glasses, you know the kind that used to look at 3D pictures when you were 9. He did this with the quiet enthusiasm as a kid on Christmas Eve. After he was done, my reaction was "That sounds really, really... Toolish.", although I used a different word. Kola replied with a very angry "F*ck you."
While I did get him good (which is a semi-rare occurrence), I feel it necessary to explain why I think this is an awful idea.
1) You'll Look Like A Tool
It's bad enough that, to communicate over XBox Live you must wear a headset. You may feel like a war general or an NFL coach, but in reality, to people outside of the gaming experience you're having at that moment, you sound like you're arguing with your imaginary friends, and losing. Now throw in some 3D glasses. Now imagine anyone who has any amount of respect for you walks past the room and sees you with glasses on where one side of the frame is red and the other blue. A little piece of them just died because of how stupid you look.
2) You'll Feel Like A Tool
Now that I've brought it up in the point, good luck not feeling like a tool playing the game that way. You're welcome.
3) The Technology Exists.
They have 3D TV's. They have pictures of kindergartners finger paints, that when you look at them with crossed eyes, you see a schooner. The entire world is in 3D. The people in the military have invented a missile that will pinpoint the beard on a goat in Islamabad, Pakistan, and will blow up just the goat and not harm anything, or anyone, else in the process. However, they can't make a game that will be 3D without the help of some spectacles? Screw you, EA!
4) 3D Movies (Usually) Blow
I'm not talking about the plot here. I'm talking about the fact that this is a 2D game, where a 3D element is placed over it in the end, much like most of the 3D movies that have come out. None of them, save a couple (Avatar comes to mind) were filmed or developed with 3D in mind. If you want to read about it, click here, and scroll to the bottom.
In conclusion, Kola, I'm not attacking you. I'm attacking people who get excited over stupid crap. Wait, that's you in this instance. I guess I'm sorry.
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