Long time no, uh, blog. I’ve never been good at these awkward “hello, nice to see you” scenarios, so I’ll just keep it short and say that I experienced an unbelievably difficult and time consuming semester this year at university. To be honest, I did not have the time nor will to seriously pursue any hobbies this semester, including blogging. I must apologize to whoever among my 811+ views found my blog at least slightly amusing, and was expecting more content.
Disclaimer: This is indeed a long story, and it was very much a spur of the moment post. I’m pretty tired as of writing this post, so I haven’t put a lot of effort into proofreading. So if you see a couple of errors, but still get the idea, please don’t let that detract your enjoyment. This is as raw and unedited as it gets.
Okay, now for a story. For New Year’s, I was really excited, for once. I actually had plans (a month in advance) with a friend. While I was hoping that more friends would be interested in doing something this year with me, I was happy to have at least one friend who was interested in doing something. I was quite thrilled, much like the way I felt as child when I got the chance to have a friend stay over, or stay over a friend’s house. It would always be guaranteed to be filled with crazy hijinks, junk food galore, toys, video games, and late bed times. That same kind of excitement was what I was feeling for this New Year’s. Maybe it wouldn’t be the same conversations, hijinks, video games, or late bed times (by my childhood measure) of yesteryear, but the same ideas still stood, and I couldn’t be more satisfied.
The plan between me and my friend, which I had come up with concretely a week or two before New Year’s Eve. The plan was for us to meet after noontime at my house, play some video games, watch some kickass movies, eat some chips and dip, maybe wet our whistles with a bit of alcohol (with my remaining supply of Jim Beam, Mount Gay Rum, gin and vermouth from residence), and do whatever. Then, we would either get a pizza delivered, or head out to Pizza Delight. We would return, chill for a bit, maybe head out to the bar, then check out any concerts and/or fireworks that were happening that evening. After the fireworks, we would head back home, and enjoy some a couple glasses of Bollinger and some chocolate fondu, with my folks. Then we could play video games, eat more junk food, and watch movies, for as long as we could stay awake. Then, the next day, I would drive him to a music practice. Sounds like a decent plan, right? I wasn’t expecting to do everything on my list, but at the very least, I was expecting a pretty relaxed, yet fun-packed evening, culminating in enjoying some Bollinger, with my family and a close friend.
Well, New Year’s Eve arrived, and woke up and got dressed in a gray, Connery-esque suit (which drew many complaints from parents for being “too dressy”, of course). I had gotten everything ready for the evening. Lots of chips and dip, pop and alcohol, well chilled, in my mini-fridge, my spare Xbox from residence set up in the basement, the Bollinger (purchased by my mom, by my suggestion, of course) and even some fondu. My friend mentioned the day before that he was planning on doing a bit of bar hopping with a couple of his buds. in the afternoon, but that he would be down around 5 or 6 pm, instead of 2 or 3 pm, as I had though. Less time, but oh well, we still had the whole evening to celebrate. A couple of hours before he was suppose to arrive, he asked me if I could also have his friends stay over the evening, since they were out of the area (like he was). I flatly denied, since I already had to convince my parents to have one friend stay over on New Year’s. Plus it was the principle of the whole act, it really put me in an uncomfortable position. Thankfully, it wasn’t a big deal. We settled on just having his two friends come visit, and leave later.
I ended up meeting my friend’s other two friends, and it didn’t take longer for all of us to get along, which I was thankful for, since I had no idea who his friends were, and I wasn’t sure how things were going to go. We played a bit of Fight Night and UFC Undisputed, before heading out to Pizza Delight for dinner. With exception of myself, everybody pre-drank at Pizza Delight. I’m not a big fan of beer, especially overpriced domestic beer, so the decision was easy for me. My friend and his two buddies ended up talking a lot about picking up chicks, which I’m never a huge fan of, because a) it’s so immature and b) it seems like one of those things where the more talk you make, the less you actually achieve. We got to the Alehouse around 8′ o’clock, and we had a great time. We got three beer pitcher and chicken wing combos for the whole table, and I got a vodka martini, shaken of course, extra. It was right before 11 when we decided to leave. The plan was for us to check out some of the clubs downtown, and hang out a bit, and then my friend and I were suppose to head back, after midnight, to having champagne and chill for the rest of the evening. Although my New Year’s had not gone at all as planned, I was enjoying myself, and I thought “what could go wrong?”
I think you know where this going.
We went to “The Palace”, since it’s much less nasty and “rape-y” then “The Dome”. BAM! 15 bucks cover. Fuck, that’s a lot. Oh well, who knows, we might have some fun, meet some girls (although I had no interest in picking up woman at a club, since I’m a cold bastard who doesn’t believe in romance any more), enjoy the club scene, and still get home to enjoy a late night of gaming and junk food. Unfortunately, my friend had chugged a pitcher of beer (in one go, I might add), drank the equivalent of at least ½ half of another, and a vodka-screwdriver, all in less than 2 hours. Plus, he decided to drink more when we got there. Naturally, he was plastered. It certainly showed in his dancing. I sat down at the table, half-watching the Monday Night RAW on the TV (I have no idea why “The Palace” was showing wrestling, but I’ll take it). My friend’s two buddies from out of town, who I would like to add, were talking some mad game early in the evening, didn’t seem very interested in scoring or picking up chicks that evening. To be fair, most the woman (who were all seemed to be in short dresses, and many of which, were decently attractive) had all either come in groups of female friends (dancing in a “I don’t want to talk to you, so go away” fashion), or with other guys, who were all dressed in dress shirts and ties. I patted myself on the back for wearing a v-neck black sweater in addition to shirt and tie, which helped make me stand out and above the crowd of short-spiked-hair, athletic, jocks that overrun the bar.
My friend was a dancing machine that evening, although few people had shown the same enthusiasm or effort has he did. I attempted to join him, and make him feel less alone in dancing, but he just got more erratic in his dancing, and not even I could keep up with his drunken flailing. Eventually, I had enough of “The Palace”. I had enough of the pretentious vibe. I had enough of the preppy people. I had enough of the dry-humping and grinding. I had enough of the “everybody here is already in a relationship, why the fuck are you here” attitude that was so blatantly present. Two hours had pasted, and I finally decided that I couldn’t wait for my friend to tire out any long. I found him on the dance floor, and told him that it was time to go, and that I had enough. He said that he had decided to stay and continue dancing. I grabbed my coat from the coat check (which was being run by a hot, but bitchy girl, in suit jacket and yoga pants), and I double checked with my friend, before I left the bar.
I spent, what I estimated as being twenty minutes, attempting to get a cab. I soon discovered just how impossible it is to find/stop a cab on New Year’s Eve. It was after this long episode of cab searching, that my friend called me on my cell phone, to tell me that his buddies were going to pick me up, and that he still wanted to come over. Needless to say, I was PISSED. I told him to piss off, and then I gave up, and grabbed the next bus home. I could have just asked my dad to come pick me up, but I already felt like a huge a huge asshole for forcing him to stay up waiting for me to come back, so I called him and let him know that I was taking the bus home. The one thing I tried my best to avoid happened that evening, I was all alone on New Year’s.
I did my best to just stay quite and out of site, but a couple of people from my high school saw me on the bus, and struck up a conversation. Great, I’m sure that didn’t make me look like a complete loser. When I got home, I told my parents this story (well, minus the more “colorful” details, but the basic plot was there”). I was so unbelievably ticked off when I got home. My parents were pretty understanding about what had happened. I ate a bit of fondu, and went to bed, having had my New Year’s Eve ruined.
Thankfully, New Year’s Day was a lot better. I spent time with my parents, relaxed a lot, watched a movie or two, and we had a nice dinner, where we finally got to try the Bollinger. Bollinger is a wonderfully sweet and delicious champagne, that is well worth the price. After a lot of organizing today, I retold (a briefer version) of this story to a friend, and felt inspired to write this post.
Overall, the experiences at the club and wandering around downtown for a cab, taught me a couple of things. One thing I learned was that no matter how good of friends you are with a person, you can never depend or expect too much from them. Out of 15 or 20 people I tried to make plans with, only 4 or 5 people that replied, the majority of them could not make it, for their own reasons, which I understood. The rest of the people I invited didn’t even respond back. I guess that goes to show you how much some of my friends really think of me. Even my best childhood friend couldn’t make it.
Two, I might not find my “Ms. Right” and live “happily ever after”, ever, especially not anytime in my early or mid twenties. It seems that the women I’ve run into in the first two decades of my life of all either be completely revolting (on the inside and/or out), not interested, or taken. The majority of woman in university only want to either date skinny, male model hipster or douchebag, popped collar, brand-name, dumb-shit, jocks and preps. Unfortunately, since I am neither, it looks like I”m SOL. I’m not saying that this is every woman out there, but I’ve yet to be surprised yet, so yeah.
Three, it’s time that I take charge of my life, more so then ever, and become as independent as possible. I’ve become way to complacent with my life, and I want the “eye of the tiger” back. I want to be “hungry” for the fight. So, while I haven’t formally decided what my New Year’s resolution is, I know what the main message is. It’s time for change, it’s time for dedication, it’s time go out and get what I want, it’s time for success. It’s time.