Everything is wrong with me
Monday, May 17, 2004
weekend round-up
Nothing extraordinarily crazy happened this weekend, but here are three things that I learned:

1) After coming in from a bar at 4am, it's ok to go to go straight to bed, even if there is beer left in the apartment. I've never really been the type to keep drinking after coming home, but recently it's like my roommates and I can't fall asleep unless every beer in the apartment has been drunk. On Friday night, we were up until 7am. On Saturday night, we were up until 6am. It's because we always do a lot of pre-gaming before going out, in order to "save" money. Of course, this never works - we wind up pre-gaming until 1am, going out already shit-housed, and spending an obscene amount of money because we are already drunk.

Anyway, there's always a bunch of beer left over from that pre-gaming, and apparently we have to drink everything before we can go to bed. It's only a matter of time before we take this to the extreme and start drinking all the rubbing alcohol, vanilla extract, and cologne in the place. I can see Brian three weeks from now, drunk and cross-eyed at 7am, sitting on the kitchen floor smoking two cigarettes at once and spraying hairspray on a piece of whole wheat bread, saying, "Dude, I am so fucked up right now. It's awesome."

2) I have got to stop throwing up. I have never been the type to throw up from drinking (I've always been a pisser), but recently I have been sending the majority of the weekend daylight hours puking. This was especially unfortunate on Sunday, when I went to Central Park. I'm not a sociologist, but I'm guessing that most of the people at the park that weekend came to spend time with friends or loved ones and enjoy the sunshine and warm weather, not watch some fat dude lay on a blanket like a beached whale with hyper-active sweat glands, getting up occasionally to run over to a trash can to throw up the beer, wine, pina colodas, and margaritas that he had the night before, along with what appeared to be a (hopefully) vestigial organ that was shaped like a pork chop.

And I'm not a physician either, but I'm guessing #1 and #2 are related.

3) In my life, by some strange acts of god, I have kissed some pretty darn looking girls. Because of this, I know that they look at me now and think, "Damn - what was I thinking when I kissed him?" A girl that I kissed a few (well, now "many") months ago has been hanging around a lot recently. And I don't mean that she's been hanging out with me exclusively or anything; it's just that we often go out in large groups (of say fifteen or twenty people), and increasing she's been among these large groups.

And she's really, really attractive. My friends and I can't understand why she ever would kiss me, and her presence lately has increased the jokes about this. For example:

Me: "Man, Maura looked really good tonight."
Ben: "I know - what the hell was she thinking when she made out with you?"
Me: "I have no idea, and I don't care."


Brian: "Wow - Maura is a really good-looking girl."
Me: "I know. I can't believe that she let me make out with her, even if it was once."
Brian: "Tell me about it. What was going on in her life at that point that she made out with someone like you? She must have had a pet die or something, or had stopped taking her anti-depressants, because she is WAY out of your league."
Me: "Yup, pretty much."

It's funny, because guys all have war stories about the ugliest girls they've hooked up with. It's a rite of passage to make out with at least once either a) a girl that weighs more than you, or b) a girl that looks like you, especially when you haven't shaved in three days. It's even more funny that because of a particular night that I was "on" and told the right jokes and the right time (and of course, supplied said girl with copious amounts of booze), I am the object of the female equivalent of these war stories.

And you know what? I am totally ok with it. If any of you attractive women out there would like to hook up with an ugly guy "for the story", please send an email to eiwwm@lycos.com. I guarantee that my combination of Meatloaf-esque looks, obesity, and complete lack of knowledge about pleasuring a woman will be the object of derision and laughter for you and your friends for years to come.

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