Chicago, IL-On Friday, a painful text exchange between two adults who were incapable of dispensing actual thoughts or desires climaxed with the promise of intermittent status updates. The illusion of actual attendance had been precariously dangling from the beginning as words like, if, maybe and possibly were hurled about in regards to actually showing up to the party itself. But in order to cheer the person up who may or may not have wanted them there in the first place, a string of texts teasing an imaginary arrival followed.
“We’ll definitely try and get there at some point.”
“Still at this party, trying to leave soon!”
“Are you guys still partying over there? Might be able to come in about an hour.”
“Uber is surging! Going to wait it out a bit, save me a beer!”
“I’m with like 20 other people, is it cool if they come too?”
“Sorry man, it’s getting late, let’s chill at some point in the next 5 years! Hope tonight was a blast!”
The vague promises functioned only as a nuisance to the host of the party who was more or less indifferent to their presence while also confirming an inevitable fact that could have been solved in a text message with ten or fewer words.
But the game of mundane, inconsequential chicken must be played because we are human and we are cowards.
Mundelein, IL-The executives at Sundance Beverage Company have officially ceased production of bong water flavored La Croix. The short lived flavor was rolled out as a promotional drink at McDonald’s to accompany the start of McRib season and to function as the alleged perfect pairing to dislodge the rib shaped patty that will undoubtedly get stuck in the windpipes of Americans everywhere.
“This country has come a long way. We thought that given the current social and political climate, by adding bong water essence to normal water we could tantalize the cardboard palate of morons everywhere. It will mean salvation for most, as they lay down their palm leaves for the second coming of coffee flavored Monster Energy and worship at its carbonated alter,” said Sundance Executive Bill Biscane, cracking into a test can of ground beef flavored La Croix.
Unfortunately American’s will have to go back to the old fashioned way of licking it off of a shag carpet after their hesher buddy spilled it trying to reach for a well worn and particularly crusty Playboy issue.
Chicago, IL-On Saturday, a man with no personality, no discernible features and a self-described “dark” sense of humor, treated other party guests to the age old comic tradition of recycling something created by a corporate marketing team with the sole purpose of selling more product.
“Who doesn’t love Dilly Dilly? It’s all like…Dilly Dilly…then the other guy is like Dilly Dilly or some shit! It really spoke to me!” said Terry Lapadat with a knowing grin on his face, coolly tipping back an ice cold Bud Light through an absolutely idiotic looking goatee.
Lapadat falls into the unfortunate demographic of people who, due to being born without a personality and being otherwise wholly ordinary, instead rely on the consumption, digestion, and regurgitation of content designed for the lowest denominator of humankind.
A knuckle dragging, shit-for-brains, leaving an uninspired skid mark on anything and anyone he interacts with, Lapadat can be seen at varying parties quoting the 2009 comedy The Hangover or discussing the comedic nuance behind Dane Cook’s Kool-Aid Man skit.
Hammond, Indiana-A hangover that seemed like a manageable affair on initial onset has, within the confines of a twenty minute Uber ride, transformed into a terrifying examination of mortality and panic. The waves of nausea were angry that day, but nothing stirs the rotting excess in the belly of the beast like a 2005 Honda Civic with the heat blasting.
That and a driver who is hard-pitching a low-risk investment in his 3D printing company, are everything needed to consider the prospect of quietly passing away in the stained cloth seats without having made the slightest impact on the world.
The hangover swells to maximum strength as the driver asks about voting preferences right before admitting that a wall between the United States and Mexico may not be the worst thing in the world. Completely oblivious to the jaundiced insect, squirming helplessly for a position that will make it all go away. Its face suggests retching its misguided hopes and dreams with bile and gin, yet it suffers through one word replies, unable to seem impolite. But this hangover is beyond a simple vomit.
Night terrors. Unnatural tingling. A distinct faintness sets in and it becomes uncertain whether or not vital organs will remain intact or disintegrate into the floor with the uncanny amount of white dog hair. The 10 IPA’s drank last night may as well have been neglected Jacuzzi water out of a used condom. A steady sweat sits in and the gum being chewed transforms into vodka soaked aluminum foil.
Only 5-minutes have passed in a 20-minute ride and there’s no certainty of another solid bowel movement for the remainder of the year.
Beer and alcohol commercials are a complete nuisance. They generally exist as a reminder that whatever depraved creatures that created them are 1.)Immensely out of touch with reality 2.) Have never actually drank a drop of their product and 3.) Are aggressive and staunch virgins.
I know that the first thing I would do after scaling Everest would be to promptly reach for a Michelob Ultra, because I still have to maintain my boyish figure after the grueling climb. I know that when Ray Liotta vacantly looks at me from across the bar with a glass filled to the brim with 1800 gasoline, that I’m pissing myself then immediately throwing my beautifully crafted sazerac on the floor where it belongs. What I witnessed on 1/4/14 however is proof that the Budlight superstition commercials are about as accurate as it gets.
By halftime of the Colt’s game, the sulking was at an all-time high with my friend. They were down 28 to the limping Chiefs, in the first round of the NFL Playoffs. Several temper tantrums and tear drops later, the stench of both defeat and black mold lied heavy in the air. As he sat there watching his team get destroyed and the $200 bet he laid on the game was looking grim at best. Another friend suggested a tribute, a sacrifice that would ignite both his liver and the will to win for the diminished Colts…Smirnoff Raspberry. Specifically a mystery bottle that had been ditched from New Years Eve days earlier.
The answer had been there all along, nothing inspires a football team 100’s of miles away, and completely unaware of your existence like chugging Raspberry Vodka before key plays. With every possession the pulls from the bottle became more feverish and more frequent. A descent into complete oblivion. After what I counted to be a full 6 second chug, Andrew Luck miraculously recovered Donald Brown’s fumble and dove into the end zone. The turnovers, the injuries they were all being fueled by this otherwise bottle of undrinkable Smirnoff Raspberry. It seemed insane at first, but the consistency of it all was nothing short of mesmerizing…magical. One man put the entire Colts team on his back and trucked them through the first round…and it wasn’t anyone on the field that day. Those Budlight commercials were officially accurate on 1/4/14.