My New Year’s Resolutions

1 – Go Running:

I feel one of these days I will be attacked by a violent and unstoppable axe murderer… What is one to do?  Become just as unstoppable.  According to the movies, this freak will move around from 4-6 miles per hour.  I should move a little faster than that to account for the distance of his axe.

2 – Look better:

For some reason, I don’t shave regularly.  It’s not because it’s hard to do – it’s much harder to shave once every 4 weeks than it is to shave once every 3 days.  Why?  Beats me – I’m a moron.  So, I will begin to do that every three days.  I will also iron my clothing on a somewhat daily basis… people at work need to be aware that I’m not homeless and that I do not keep my clothing in a garbage bin outside.

3 – Drink less:

2009 will be the year I say “Oh, I remember that” as opposed to “Umm, so remind me how I set fire to your pillow while using a bathroom.”  I’m going to be 25 this year, I need to start falling into the ranks of the normal 20 somethings who do not have drinking problems…. do those people exist?  God, the better.  I hope I don’t have to become a Mormon to find them.  Perhaps I’ll drink this ambition away.

4 – Swear in Moderation:

Though fuck is the most applicable word in a variety of situations (possibly all – excluding PTA meetings and eulogies), I will have to put it down for a bit.   Fuck this, Fuck that.  It’s not something an educated man should be yelling obscenities because he messed… up?  Sounds so stupid without the expletive…

5 – Care Less:

It is possible for me to be more apathetic about stuff.  I should most definitely care less about what people say/think/believe and be happier for it. 

For example:

Clerk: “You shouldn’t wear that pink tutu… it was made for a 10 year old girl.”
JJRC: “I don’t quite care what you think.  You are stifling my liberty, sir.”

Hopefully 2009 is the year I become a man who can run a shitload, look not homeless while doing it sober and without much swearing in a pink leotard made for a 12 year old girl….

Chances are by 2010 – I won’t be – but it is nice to dream.

JJRC

I love you, but I’m not IN love with you, alcohol.

Drinking on weekends was not something I partook in during my tenure as a high school student.  Then again, I didn’t even really have friends until my Junior year.  Man, 1998-2000 were the roughest two years of school I’ve ever dealt with.  But, after I graduated high school and moved on to college, I discovered things on the psuedo out-side were different.  The college social scene was lubricated with sweet sweet alcohol.  I went to a kegger my freshman year.  I was too timid to actually get my own booze – I would send a friend to get two cups of gross Milhuakee’s Best.  Then we went to this othe house and continued our merry making (I think I may have had a special cookies in there – I don’t know – but who hands out “fresh” cookies at a party?)

This was the beginning of a torrid love affair with the drinks of the gods.  Alcohol was a new thing to me – and of course I got out of control with it.  December of 2003, at the tender age of 18.5 – I hugged a toilet and held on for dear life.  I swear – I thought my eyes were going to pop out of my head.  I thought I had hit rock bottom…. until March 2006 when I was barfing up my friend, booze, in a Harvard yard…. and then in a Harvard bush… and a Harvard baseball diamond…. and in front of the Divinity school… on my way back to my friend’s brother’s apartment.  It’s probably the worse drinking memory I have.  For a span of 3 hours – I remember precious minutes.  The first hurl, trying to climb on a car to take a nap, crawling around because I couldn’t stand, my friend slapping me, falling face first in front of some white building and getting grass/dirt in my mouth – causing more vomiting. 

Now, I’m 23, a year older and hopefully wiser.  The days of constant binge drinking on weekends have been reduced significantly.   I’ve only been crazy drunk about 7 times this year.  Once a month is much better than 10 times a month.  Am I growing up?  I believe I am.  Was I an alocholic for a time?  No – at least not by the definitions given to me by my med school friend.  I’ve mellowed out – and have lost my fondness for the drink.  I now need to find other recreational activities that do not require (but may have) drinking involved.  Eating is the only such activity I have found, and I can’t keep doing that because then I’ll just be mammoth and sober.  (Hey, JJ - what do you want to do? – Umm eat? – You are aware, we’re leaving the restraurant now – right?)

Weekends are a precious commodity these days.  You can’t be wasting them.  (“What did you do this weekend?”  Oh, nothing – I just wasted half of it by forgetting what I did and then having to recollect the night and apologize to my grandma for caling her at 5am to tell her I felt bad she had no teeth….)  I suppose it’s ok to go out and get out of control once in a while – but it’s just not possible every weekend – not to mention New York is one expensive booze town.

So, any good ideas out there for a sober man on a Saturday night?  I don’t have a clue either…

 JJRC

You know you want this crap

Ads are a horrendous waste of time and money – simply put.  People get shown random garbage, and the ad excites the senses.  For example, beer ads are the most notorious.  I drink beer.  I sit around an apartment with friends and drink beer.  Whenever I open a ice cold blue lined can – beautiful women don’t come in… the grinding never happens… and the taste isn’t really that spectacular.  It’s just me and my can in a room with other people  (hopefully – I don’t think I’ve become that much of an alcoholic… yet).

But, that’s just one side of the ads, then there are the ones the excite you for no good reason.  Similar to those monster truck rally commercials, these things just yell at you to the point where you must agree.  “SUNDAY! SUNDAY! SUNDAY!!! THE PUNISHER IS COMING TO WRECK THINGS IN OUR YARD!! BE THERE!!!!!!”  Somehow, I don’t really care to see the Punisher wreck shit in a random yard, but do I want to go?  YES!!! With the sound of his voice – this man has made me want to go to a monster truck rally.  I know it’s going to be terrible, but I want to go.  Maybe my brain has been made complete mush due to the lack of independent thought.

I’m almost positive if something is made to sound amazing and exciting – I would get it.  If the commercials for kitty litter went “KITTY LITTER!!! IT’LL MAKE YOUR LIFE BETTER AND FRESH!!! BUY IT!! BUY IT!!! BUY IT!!”  My senses would be so overloaded – I would run out of my house screaming to buy kitty litter – though I don’t have a cat.  This would lead to the inevitable me pooping and scooping my own crap out of the litter.  I bought it, and I cannot let it go to waste.  After I finish my bag, I would happen to see that commercial again and go out to buy some more… a vicious cycle.  What happened to the days of word of mouth?

Companies spend hundreds of millions of dollars to advertise garbage.  Meanwhile, there are value price crap selling just as well – something got to give.  I have to be honest – you need to have an exciting commercial for monster trucks because they’re kinda lame (unless you into intervehicular rape).  But, why do I need to be hounded by mindless dribble about kitty litter, tampons, sodas and beer?  Tis is the problem with American consumerism.  To the masses, the television never stops being wrong.  If a newscaster went on TV and announced that the moon was made of cheese and was melting, people would believe it.  No research would be done and everyone would freak (even though the moon totally sucks as a celestial body).   Put more faith in concrete findings – don’t just buy garbage because you should.  The pricey lotion has the same ingredients as the Rite Aid Brand.  It’s not that hard to put Aloe extracts into a gooey paste.

It’s a real shame, but on a lighter note – I ran out of litter and have not seen that commercial since.

 JJRC

Christmas Time is here

Christmas time means many things to many people.  It means kind smiles.  It means the good of humanity.  For the working world, it means that office party where things go right or wrong.  For my first attendance to a holiday party, I held my own in embarrassing stories.  I managed to get myself tanked, and I blew chunks in the country club’s parking lot… then I fell into it and messed up my knee.. not to mention my pants and shoes.  It was bad, but luckily no one saw me.  There were other, more important things, occurring within the walls of the club while I floundered about outside in my own hell.

It turns out that the inhibitions of my co-workers were dropped to an alarmingly low standard.  The next morning, not only did people look like the walking dead, the office was buzzing with the stories of the fight.  It turns out if you put people of college age together with free alcohol many things happen.  People hook up.  Some girl was hooking up with some guy, but this other guy was thinking he wasn’t going to let that happen, and a brawl broke out.  No one really spoke of in the morning – except for the murmurs (“did you hear? yeah, it was ridiculous”).  Now, to put this in perspective, these were not common workers like myself and my comrades.  These people manage departments.  So, you know this party had to be good if management was duking it out.

Then there’s the story of the mystery employee that went into a stall to throw up on himself and then fall asleep in a seat position on the toilet.  Attendants had to let him out after a cool thirty minutes of trying to wake him up.  His name was not actually throw out there.  Lucky for him.  It makes me think about whether I was being talked about.  I’ve only been with the company about a month and a half now, and I doubt anyone really knows me.  Plus, I  recall the lot being empty – though my memory doesn’t serve me very well.

I recall being outside at some point hugging the girl that had recruited me, and then I bummed a smoke off of her.  While I was outside, my supervisor appeared and I shook his hand with my cigarette.  He seemed to not have noticed how inebriated I was.  Maybe he did, but he’s too much of a gentleman to tell me I was acting like an ass.

Next holiday party I’m going to go with what I learned:

1 – Steer clear of all important personnel.  This can be fatal to your career.

2 – Always puke outside, but remember you can’t sit in it because it messed up your clothing.

3 – Assure your ride of your whereabouts.  You don’t want him/her leaving without you because you’ve passed out in a bush.

4 – If you’re going to be in a stall to hurl, make sure you’re facing the right direction.

5 – No matter what happens, don’t punch anyone at any cost for any reason.

6 – Anything with the liquor in the name is something you should not be had (this includes things like “Rum and Cole/Cuba Libre”. “Vodka Tonics”, “Whiskey Sours”, and all wines.)

Grand total that night, I had 3 Rum and Cokes, one vodka tonic, three massive goblets of wine, and a beer.  I also had copious amounts of food – since this thing was catered by a food factory and it just didn’t stop coming.  I realized how much food I had actually eaten out in the parking lot.  The human stomach is an amazingly large thing.  Surprisingly, I enjoyed myself, made a few friends, and got home before midnight (I think), but I hated myself in the morning.

JJRC

JINGLE BALL 2006!

Coming home from work, I had perhaps the most interesting hour of my week.  I sit down on the train and pick up a random newspaper.  This random girl with straight black hair runs in like a lunatic and sits down.   When she spots me, she pouts and says, “I’m so sorry, but we’re gonna be really loud…. you should move.”  I knew this was gonna be good, so I wasn’t going anywhere.  “I think I’m fine – I’ll just stick around.”  “Oh ok, but I warned you.  You’re reading.” She stated and looked around.  Like magic, three other girls wandered in with a high pitched shrills.  They were clearly happier than sober people.  I knew at this point, I had made the correct decision in staying put.

As soon as the train started moving, they got into full party mode.  “Take a shot with us!”, they yelled at the top of their lungs.  I refused politely and thanked them for their hospitality.  I then sat back and enjoyed the show.  These girls were what one would describe as a hot mess.  At some point they started screaming for dinner and I looked over and one girl had whipped out a tub of pretzels and started snacking. ” Stop hogging our dinner, you bitch!!!”  These girls weren’t out to play – they meant business.  “I need to eat, I just took my heart medication!!”  That’s really what made me realize they weren’t joking around.  I’m sure any person with at least two brain cells would know not to take medication and then imbide copious amounts of vodka and grapefruit juice – though there are essential vitamins and minerals necessary for living in grapefruit juice.

 At some point, the train stops again.  Manhasset was the stop and loads of people got on.  I had to take  my feet off the seat facing me so some prude looking older lady could sit down.  She was in for a ride of her life since the girls didn’t warn her of the loudness.  The train was in motion again, and these girls whipped out the bottles again and started drinking.  At some point one of the girls – her name was D decided she needed some music.  “BONGOS!! BONGOS!!”, she yelled.  “Not on the train… well ok”, the heart meds girl was quick to oblige.  She opened up her shirt and D start patting on her hooters as if her life depended on it.  The prude lady obviously did not approve.  They were getting pretty smashed.

 At some point during the ride, they filled their cups to the brim.  This only means bad things folks.  One girl smacked her cup out of another girls hands and it fell upon D’s Uggs.  It also fell on the prude woman who just wiped herself and tried not to pay mind.  She was trying really hard not to got harassed, but it didn’t help her that I was talking to them periodically.  “YOU BITCH!!!!”, screamed D.  “Don’t talk to me ever again.  You’ve ruined my sister’s boots!  These are new Uggs!”  The conversation progressed as such.

Girl 1: Fine don’t talk to me ever again – that’s fine.  Isn’t she a bitch? (talking to me)

Me: Ummm… I don’t think you’re a bitch.

D: Say that again – he doesn’t think I’m a bitch.  Does alcohol stain Uggs?

Girl 2: Umm – Yes?

D: Fuck I’m not talking to you ever again.  You and your shit brown sweater (grabs the shit brown sweater and starts cleaning off her Uggs).

Girl 1: Fine, you can dry your shoes on my ass (D starts doing so).  I love you!

D: AWWW I love you too, but don’t talk to me.

Girl 1: what about when we (puts her hand to her mouth and makes a puffing sound)

D: Oh, we can smoke, but then I’m not talking to you ever again.

Girl 1: You bitch! That’s why I love you!!

At some point in Woodside, the stop before Penn Station.  They start talking about how they were going to Jingle Ball 2006.  “How did you get tickets”, I asked.  “My daddy totally scored them for me.  And D’s not going anymore – you bitch, I love you.”, said Girl 1.

The conductors came by and asked for tickets.  They’re scrambling trying to find them.  To buy some time, Girl 2 leans over to the conductor and says, “Do you want some dinner?  I’ve got pretzels!.”  The conductor grimaces as if offered shit on a stick. “I didn’t put drugs in it – I totally swear.”  The conductor politely refuses while the prude old lady seems to be fuming over the fact that those girls exist. 

Girl 1: “Where the fuck are these tickets?”

Conductor 2: Hey, watch your mouth, young lady.

Girl 1: OMG! There fucking kids around and I’ve been saying fuck.  (I dunno if she was being annoying or she was unaware of what was going on)

Conductor 2: Please stop swearing.

The train pulled into the station and everyone is glad to get out.  I thank the girls for a memorable train ride, and they thank me for being patient with their noise.  I’ll probably never see those crazy bitches again, but I’m glad I met them at least once.

JJRC