I had my 10-year high school reunion the Saturday after Thanksgiving. It was a pretty fun time, except for the following:
1. It was downtown. I hate downtown. Bums creep me out, one-way streets confuse me, and artsy-fartsy new-age hippies make me want to shoot myself. You can read all about it in various old Jerks of the Week entries, including this one.
2. It was on a Saturday night. As I wrote on the Facebook reunion event page, "Damn, I wish this were on a Friday so I could make a drunken fool out of myself. I work all day Sunday, so I won't be able to drink too much."
3. Some jerk stole my coat. The coat situation at this bar was a pretty crappy one - all people did was throw their coat into a small closet across from the men's bathroom.
When I went to retrieve my coat at the end of the night, I found it and put it on. My friend Patty, who was sober at the time, remarked, "Walt, that's not your coat." Whoops!
It looked like my coat. Except this one had three buttons (mine has one) and an inside zipper (mine doesn't have one).
So, I took this coat home, thinking the person who grabbed mine would notice this and want to exchange back. Unfortunately, this person never responded to a mass e-mail about it, so I'll need to buy a new coat. Having three buttons and an inside pocket may seem like an upgrade, but I'm OCD with stuff. I'm not happy about this situation.
At any rate, I lied about Item No. 2. I got somewhat drunk. It was an open bar, so I had numerous beers and vodka concoctions.
Being inebriated, I thought it would be a good idea to text myself some notes about the night for this Jerk of the Week entry. I'll have to pat myself on the back for this; if I didn't take notes, I would have forgotten about half the things I noticed at my reunion.
I made eight drunken notes. Here they are:
"Skimmy girls got Fat. Fat grils got fatter."
This was actually a quote from Josh, my best friend since we were 5 years old. But before I go any further, I should address the horrible spelling.
I can't type or text when I'm drunk. I'm the worst with that. As a reminder, here was an e-mail I sent to my hot lawyer friend one night when I was drunk two years ago:
I should also be able to sue Jolly Rancher. I just had a pink lemonade Jolly Rancher looolipopo the other day, and it was awesome. Now, imagine if they had lemon-flaovred Jolyl Ranchers. Oh no, wait they did, and now it's blue rspabnerry onstead. What a terrible choice. They arlrweady had raspberry in their "passion fruit" bag and now they have blue raspbery in their "classic" flavors, even though i'ts not classic AND it's not even a rela flavor! Y[u've honestly sen how craay i'm about rhis a ndyou know I am so distrubed hat I can't sleep or eat or ficntuona propertly without lemon jolly ranchers anyomore. I seriously think we can habve a class-action laauwusuit here and if we win we wi ll bea ble to take over the world. Trust me, I know what I'm talking about.
You can see the other two drunk e-mails I sent to her here.
At any rate, Josh said some other pretty funny things throughout the night, including:
"Hey look, it's [Name Removed]! He's big, fat, dumb and Irish, just like he was in high school!"
"I want to bang her, her, her, her and her. All at the same time. I would die a happy man if that happened."
"Look at that girl's a**. Look at it. You're not looking! Look! How did it get so big? Wow! I want to bang her so bad!"
"Oh my God, all the girls I had a crush on in high school are in the same area. What should I do, Walt!? Do you think I could bang them all at once!?"
Josh has a habit of disappearing in the middle of the night if he's super drunk. He did this at our grade school reunion two years ago, and after telling me he was going to the bathroom, I didn't hear from him until he called me two days later.
"I Don't want to cuddle with fat chicks"
I have no idea if Josh said this or not. Maybe it was a reminder I wrote to myself at the beginning of the night. But let this serve as a public service announcement. Don't drink and drive, and don't cuddle with fat chicks.
"Bum With Beard"
My back sucks. If I stand for a while, it really hurts. After about two hours of conversing with people I hadn't seen in a decade, I wanted to sit down. Unfortunately, the only chair in the area was occupied by this fat dude with a long beard.
This guy looked completely out of place. He just sat there looking completely bored and/or cracked out. I kept an eye on him for about 20 minutes to see if he'd get up, but he just sat there like some homeless a**hole.
I finally decided to throw some change his way, but as I reached into my pocket to grab several quarters, a couple of hot chicks gleefully approached him.
I guess the old saying is true - bums with long beards get all the hot chicks.
"Kenny grinding not that there's anything winni with that I Guess"
Toward the end of the night, a drunk Puerto Rican guy started grinding with me. Not that there's anything "winni" with that.
Two things kept me from doing anything about this: One, he was just messing around. And two, he runs the hosting company that hosts this Web site. So, if Kenny wants to grind with me at some downtown bar, I guess there's nothing I can do about that.
"Loud music so what r u up to Shannon speak. Loud music in bathroom."
First of all, I don't know who Shannon is. I was losing it at this point.
Second, I've discussed loud music before. I absolutely hate loud music in bars or clubs. It was so hard to talk to anyone. Here was a typical conversation I had that night:
Me: Hey, how have you been?
Hot Chick: 84tu4ho ghrwoi uhrw 9heriu toeh 9tr.
Hot Chick: What!?
Hot Chick: uirh g ergh o0 h r erg heo rohieowef ladainian tomlinson g09rw8gho o erigo hrgh r0hg orweh o.
Hot Chick: What!?
Hot Chick: Nice seeing you!!!
The music was super loud everywhere, including the bathroom. I was temporarily deaf after I left my reunion. Hell, it's been nine days since, and my ears are still ringing.
"R u still doing that thing on the internet angry tone."
Some people at the reunion knew of my Web site. Others didn't. Yet, only one person asked me what I thought about the Eagles-Bears game. I'd find this surprising, but the music was so loud that maybe the other people figured that it would be too futile to ask.
One chick wasn't impressed with my current vocation. I saw her at the 5-year reunion, and when I told her about this Web site, she had a disgusted look on her face. Now, five years later, she approached me and asked, "Ugh, are you still doing that Internet thing?"
A girl who hates the Internet and other possible technologies? Sounds like the woman of my dreams! Keep reading...
"Fancy cell phones disallow hate can't handle 3rd irod mano meatball yuck"
Scientists could look at that sentence for decades and fail to figure out what it means. Luckily, I know.
As I observed all of my old high school friends, acquaintances and enemies, I noticed that everyone was texting or surfing the Web on fancy cell phones.
This bothered me. When I was in high school, no one had a cell phone. Some people - namely the cool guys who smoked cigarettes outside - had beepers. But no one owned a cell phone.
In my drunken state, I was confused to see all the old high school people with nifty cell phones. Confused and angry. See, I hate technology, which is ironic because I run a Web site for a living. But I still use VCRs. I have no idea how to DVR stuff. And I hate three-dimensional video games like Halo or Super Mario 64. I can barely handle three dimensions in real life; why would I want to do so in a video game?
So, what does "irod mano" mean? Well, I received a package in the mail from Comcast recently. I opened it up to see that they sent me an iPod Nano. I don't know why they sent me this. I didn't order one. And I don't even know how to use it. Where the hell does the music go? Ugh, can't we just go back to using the good old walkman?
As for "meatball yuck?" I really have no clue. I love meatballs, so someone must have stolen my phone and typed that in. Perhaps the person who stole my coat did this.
Hmm... I wonder who it could have been...
"I'm was a loses them I zip in high school"
I have absolutely no idea what this means. No clue.
Hmm... what could zip mean? Zip - as in zipper? Was I talking about the zipper in the new coat? Did I know someone stole my coat? Or... OR am I the person who stole my own coat? DUN DUN DUNNNNNN!!!