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.
Chicago, IL-A forgettable party guest who may or may not have been the bastard brother-in-law of a glue sniffer who probably wasn’t invited to the party in the first place, made it clear that he was going to be a social burden the rest of the night by announcing, I come bearing gifts, while hoisting a 6-pack of Heineken that he would undoubtedly hoard the rest of the night.
The other guests navigated around him with a weariness generally reserved for Gristle & Goyder night at Ponderosa steakhouses in Northern Indiana. Each one knowing that at some point they would ultimately succumb to the infected flesh wrapped in garments from Trunk Club.
Now the only determination was for how long and by what excruciating conversation topic would they be forced to spill their melted brains on the cat hair infested floor. Thinly veiled racism? Recent sexual conquests? Professional goals? All Bird shoes? Ashton Kutcher’s time on Two and a Half Men? Early onset erectile dysfunction? Crying themselves to sleep on a nightly basis? Everything. Nothing.
Fortunately wasting away in an inescapable conversation with someone you’ll never talk to again is time well spent when that person is drinking a 6-pack of mediocre beer. Enjoy a Heineken today.
Chicago, IL-On Saturday, a girl was seen attempting to infiltrate various lively conversations at a local house party by waiting for a momentary pause in banter and asking “So…what does everyone do!?” The question was accompanied by an aggressive pointing motion toward one unfortunate soul in the circle, signifying that it was their respective turn to stammer through an explanation of a job they hate, to a group of indifferent onlookers.
The process unfolded in a predictably excruciating way, as each job description grew more ordinary than the next. A culmination of individuals wholly uninspired for at least forty hours a week. A complex web of personality and emotion distilled into a characterless corporate identity.
Several people suffered through their freshly poured drink as quickly as possible, desperate for a retreat to the kitchen where they could pound shots of vodka in solitude, others took this as the perfect opportunity to dust off their long forgotten smoking habit. Anything to escape the wrath at hand.
“I just try to engage everyone, I’m just a really engaging person…like when I’m at a party I can literally talk to anyone! I’m legit friends with like everyone that went to that party now…” said Sarah Kibby, meticulously adding party goers to her LinkedIn professional network, the only true testament of a real friendship.
The party ended uncannily early.
Title: March 3, 2013
Artist: Lil Flip
Album: My Birthday 32
I hadn’t heard anything from Lil Flip in well over a decade, and given the sketchiness of the cover art and the title of the mixtape I was hesitant to believe it was an official release. It looks like something that would get spray painted onto a tall-t outside of Gadzooks in University Park Mall. It is in fact Flip though and though the album itself is generously mediocre, one song stands out.
The song March 3, 2013 is relentlessly Houston, it lives, breaths and embodies the throwback H-Town style that Chamillionaire and Paul Wall channeled in Get Ya Mind Correct. (back when both were damn solid rappers) A staunchly airy song, jovial and seemingly untouched by time, would have undoubtedly made it big in the late 90’s early 2000’s. This song is a breath of fresh air, utterly unfocused and disorderly, no real adherence to any brand or topic of rhyme. It demands shoulder shrugging and other drony, catatonic club dances. The completely inaudible chorus strangely beckons the listener into a hazy appeasement and bids you to reach for the nearest solo cup and promptly nourish yourself. I will be playing this relentlessly come spring/summer.