One can only hope this scene ended with the Aaron Carter looking Ohio State fan slapping that girl across the face and the curly haired (angry looking like he could seriously kill at any moment) OSU fan stomping that geek on the right into the ground...
Thursday, January 10, 2008
Losers
One can only hope this scene ended with the Aaron Carter looking Ohio State fan slapping that girl across the face and the curly haired (angry looking like he could seriously kill at any moment) OSU fan stomping that geek on the right into the ground...
Wednesday, January 9, 2008
Drunken Lies/Tales...
I was looking at my blog yesterday, reading my NYE story and I remembered something else that happened that night which led me to write this. It was pretty comical. I am standing at the bar in front of a bar stool (Bar stools were actually reserved for New Year's--i guess that's how they do it in smaller towns) when an old guy (65 my rough estimate) coming back to his seat says, "Excuse me Son." I step back and let him sit, but the fact that he called me son didn't really sit well (actually, I don't think it actually bothered me but I was aware of it and seized on it for a great story opportunity). I stepped back towards the man, tapping him on the shoulder and delivered this gem (paraphrasing a week later):
'You know, the last person to call me son was Doyle (referring to legendary poker player, Doyle Brunson). I remember my first series (World Series of Poker) about 8 years ago and my first table of the tourney Doyle sits down next to me! As I'm getting into my seat I heard a huge voice say, "Excuse me son." '
Well the guy LOVED the story and ends up kind of apologizing to me, explaining that he was raised to call everyone mam or sir, and that me being so much younger than him, sir just felt weird. I let him know all was cool, and that being raised in a military family myself I was accustomed to the same thing (I told him how a cocktail waitress at the "Series" had chastised me for calling her Mam and told me that she wasn't that old and to call her Miss).
Anyway, the point of that whole story (other than the fact I thought it was entertaining which it may or may not have been) is to bring up the idea of telling lies/stories when you're drunk. I'll be honest, I love to do it--it's not that I'm trying to impress anyone usually, it's just so fun to build a story and have someone believe such nonsense. I think the habit started my senior year of high school when on Spring Break in Cancun my good friend convinced some girls (who thought he was a junior in college or something) that his screenplay titled Whitewater ("a coming of age film", as he described it) had just been greenlit. The best part of the tale, however, was his invitation to a party for young screen writers at Jack Nicholson's house where he was hanging out w/Ben Affleck and Matt Damon (Jack himself was "too coked up to make it out of his room"). That right there is the genius of the drunk lie--the details...
In college, this sort of thing was a nightly routine for my roommate and I. We took things to a new level by reciting movie lines as our own stories. Personal favorites included: the airplane joke from Good Will Hunting (yes, i told this w/success more than a few times--usually played well in the older crowd where they were less likely to know the movie), Seth's story about falling off a BMX bike in Boiler Room, and Jon Favreau's classic "I'm supposed to be impressed cause she's wearing a back pack" monologue in Swingers. [Note, I'd love to put a footnote right here and include the exact quotations which I know is exactly what Chuck Klosterman would do. Unfortunately, I don't think I have footnote capabilities so I'll just have to include them at the end of the blog (Note note: Chuck Klosterman is great and if you're not reading his stuff you are missing out)]. We actually knew these lines verbatim (or close enough). Somewhere in the archives of this stupid campus show at Vanderbilt there lies an interview with my roommate outside our fraternity at 3am where he recites the Boiler Room story and then inexplicably yells, "GO HEELS!" Good times...
The fun didn't stop w/college either. I remember one night telling someone that I was an agent and that I had "discovered" Thora Birch (it was only an hour or so later when my friend cued me into the fact that Thora was in fact a childhood actress, making it virtually impossible for me to have discovered her. Let me paint the scene: we were in some club at 2am. You think the girl knew Thora was a childhood star?). On more than one occasion, I've texted a girl I met in a bar and then turned to my friend and said "I think she may think I'm a professional poker player." Or watched my friend contact one and then wonder what popular NYC club she thinks he owns.
Recently, said friend and I were having a conversation and we decided that by lying/telling such stories when you're drunk-either to entertain yourself, impress someone, or get with a girl as is often the case i'm sure--you're actually, in the long run, giving up more opportunities to entertain, impress, or get with said girl. We decided we were going to cut back on such activities, in the hopes of meeting "the real" by coming with the real. That said, if I had to guess, I'd say last Saturday that same friend was (for the night at least) a New York Real estate mogul/club owner/developer or some variation. And I'm sure when I next go out I'll have some interesting story about taking down a huge pot against Doyle or drinking Cristal with Jay-Z as he welcomed my client to a collaboration on his album or how I'm the writer of www.wwtdd.com (a great page if it's possible any of you don't already go to it)...Oh well though. I guess if people are stupid enough to keep believing these extravegant tales, there's just too much entertainment value to stop telling them.
*************Where I would have footnotes. Quotations mentioned above*****************
Boiler Room:
"You know, I was on this plane once. And I'm sittin' there and the captain comes on and he does his whole, "We'll be cruising at 35,000 feet," then he puts the mike down but he forgets to turn it off. Then he turns to the copilot and goes, "You know, all I could go for right now is a fuckin' blow job and a cup of coffee." So the stewardess fuckin' goes bombin' up from the back of the plane to tell him the mic's still on, and this guy behind me goes, "Hey hon, don't forget the coffee!"
(note: I actually used to add some to details to this one which I thought made it better. But I kid you not, countless times I had people believe this story)
'You know, the last person to call me son was Doyle (referring to legendary poker player, Doyle Brunson). I remember my first series (World Series of Poker) about 8 years ago and my first table of the tourney Doyle sits down next to me! As I'm getting into my seat I heard a huge voice say, "Excuse me son." '
Well the guy LOVED the story and ends up kind of apologizing to me, explaining that he was raised to call everyone mam or sir, and that me being so much younger than him, sir just felt weird. I let him know all was cool, and that being raised in a military family myself I was accustomed to the same thing (I told him how a cocktail waitress at the "Series" had chastised me for calling her Mam and told me that she wasn't that old and to call her Miss).
Anyway, the point of that whole story (other than the fact I thought it was entertaining which it may or may not have been) is to bring up the idea of telling lies/stories when you're drunk. I'll be honest, I love to do it--it's not that I'm trying to impress anyone usually, it's just so fun to build a story and have someone believe such nonsense. I think the habit started my senior year of high school when on Spring Break in Cancun my good friend convinced some girls (who thought he was a junior in college or something) that his screenplay titled Whitewater ("a coming of age film", as he described it) had just been greenlit. The best part of the tale, however, was his invitation to a party for young screen writers at Jack Nicholson's house where he was hanging out w/Ben Affleck and Matt Damon (Jack himself was "too coked up to make it out of his room"). That right there is the genius of the drunk lie--the details...
In college, this sort of thing was a nightly routine for my roommate and I. We took things to a new level by reciting movie lines as our own stories. Personal favorites included: the airplane joke from Good Will Hunting (yes, i told this w/success more than a few times--usually played well in the older crowd where they were less likely to know the movie), Seth's story about falling off a BMX bike in Boiler Room, and Jon Favreau's classic "I'm supposed to be impressed cause she's wearing a back pack" monologue in Swingers. [Note, I'd love to put a footnote right here and include the exact quotations which I know is exactly what Chuck Klosterman would do. Unfortunately, I don't think I have footnote capabilities so I'll just have to include them at the end of the blog (Note note: Chuck Klosterman is great and if you're not reading his stuff you are missing out)]. We actually knew these lines verbatim (or close enough). Somewhere in the archives of this stupid campus show at Vanderbilt there lies an interview with my roommate outside our fraternity at 3am where he recites the Boiler Room story and then inexplicably yells, "GO HEELS!" Good times...
The fun didn't stop w/college either. I remember one night telling someone that I was an agent and that I had "discovered" Thora Birch (it was only an hour or so later when my friend cued me into the fact that Thora was in fact a childhood actress, making it virtually impossible for me to have discovered her. Let me paint the scene: we were in some club at 2am. You think the girl knew Thora was a childhood star?). On more than one occasion, I've texted a girl I met in a bar and then turned to my friend and said "I think she may think I'm a professional poker player." Or watched my friend contact one and then wonder what popular NYC club she thinks he owns.
Recently, said friend and I were having a conversation and we decided that by lying/telling such stories when you're drunk-either to entertain yourself, impress someone, or get with a girl as is often the case i'm sure--you're actually, in the long run, giving up more opportunities to entertain, impress, or get with said girl. We decided we were going to cut back on such activities, in the hopes of meeting "the real" by coming with the real. That said, if I had to guess, I'd say last Saturday that same friend was (for the night at least) a New York Real estate mogul/club owner/developer or some variation. And I'm sure when I next go out I'll have some interesting story about taking down a huge pot against Doyle or drinking Cristal with Jay-Z as he welcomed my client to a collaboration on his album or how I'm the writer of www.wwtdd.com (a great page if it's possible any of you don't already go to it)...Oh well though. I guess if people are stupid enough to keep believing these extravegant tales, there's just too much entertainment value to stop telling them.
*************Where I would have footnotes. Quotations mentioned above*****************
Boiler Room:
"I was ten years old and I just got this new bike. It's Silver Mongoose, you know, like a BMX. And I was just skitting out in this puddle, you know. And my foot slipped in and the peddle span around hard enough to break my leg. I didn't fall off the bike. And I kept going down the hill and I got really scared, you know? So I jumped off the bike and I landed behind this parked car. I was lying for a good half an hour and finally I hear my father's voice up the street and he was calling my name and I was happy that he was coming to get me. And he came around the car. He saw me lying there. I mean there was blood everywhere. Anyway, I looked up at him and for the first time in my life I saw how much my father loves me 'cause he was completely frozen. It hurt him to see me in that much pain. So he leaned down over me and he slapped me over the face. Maybe he was mad at me for making him that helpless or it's like the only thing he could think of. I don't know. I don't care anymore. What I remember now is that look on his face when he first saw me lying there. And that's what I remember. That's what I miss."
Swingers:"All the parties and bars, they all suck. I spend halfthe night trying to talk to some girl who's eyes are darting around to see if there's someone else she should be talking to. And it's like I'm supposed to be all happy cause she's wearing a backpack. Half of them are nasty skanks who wouldn't be shit if they weren't surrounded by a bunch of drunken horny assholes. I'm not gonna be one of those assholes. It's fucking depressing. Some skank who isn't half the woman my girlfriend is is gonna front me? It makes me want to puke."
Good Will Hunting:"You know, I was on this plane once. And I'm sittin' there and the captain comes on and he does his whole, "We'll be cruising at 35,000 feet," then he puts the mike down but he forgets to turn it off. Then he turns to the copilot and goes, "You know, all I could go for right now is a fuckin' blow job and a cup of coffee." So the stewardess fuckin' goes bombin' up from the back of the plane to tell him the mic's still on, and this guy behind me goes, "Hey hon, don't forget the coffee!"
(note: I actually used to add some to details to this one which I thought made it better. But I kid you not, countless times I had people believe this story)
Tuesday, January 1, 2008
New Year's Eve? Duh...
I have been saying for many years now that NYE (that's cool guy speak for New Year's Eve) is the most overrated holiday of the year. And I will tell you what--every year this just gets confirmed. I was really happy when my friend invited me out to his parents house in Scottsdale, Arizona. I've been sayin for sometime i want to get away from all the velvet rope BS on NYE and this was my chance.
I will sum the night up as quick as I can. Live country music was played. Tom Chambers was not only at the bar in a town of probably 1,000 but he talked shit on my friend and me, took 3 of the 5 Washington Apple shots I ordered, and then pulled a boy scout pocket knife covered in some sort of crud on me because I was talking to his assistant (a cute 24 girl from the area). He said the knife was dirty because he was using it to cut cigars, but to be honest its worn down (spoon like) blade seemed to have a dirty crud that did not resemble cigar ash. VERY weird. I at least feel good that I did have this exchange with him:
(ME): "Tom, seriously"
(TC): "Your friend is a pussy, I took three of your shots!"
(ME): "I know, but Tom, remember the video game Lakers-Celtics on Genesis? You could dunk from the 3 point line w/ a double clutch dunk--You were the man"
(TC): "Yeah, I was something in that game"
That conversation actually happened. What are the odds you go to some dive/cowboy bar in a random town 30 minutes outside Scottsdale proper and see Tom Chambers? What are the odds he ends up taking shots w/you and talking shit on your shot choice (Washington Apples--I'll be honest, other than a few hot chicks, most people don't appreciate this shot--I don't care. It's good.) and then orders up Petron shots for you and your friends?
Good times...
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