I drank: 2 Michigan craft beers (both higher than 7.5%), 1 Gin and Tonic (heavy)
Remembering is the Hardest Thing Ever:
I remember when I was in love with you and wanted to talk to you everyday. Just the sound of your voice would make me happy.
Now, we only talk when something bad happens.
I hope you’re doing well.
I drank: 32oz of margarita and 4 beers.
Last night I had a dream that I fell off my skateboard, hit my head and died.
This not only scared me because of josh’s passing, but because I have worn a helmet every time I have jumped on my longboard since.
I read a card that a friend/family member had filled out. I never made it to the end. It was just stupid bullshit about pokemon I didn’t even know.
I woke up in a cold sweat.
I didn’t care if I was alive or dead, I just cared that people knew more about me than pokemon and star wars.
I went to the bathroom; then went back to bed.
Between my girlfriend getting up at 615 and I getting up to get a glass of water at 745. I’m just trying to get this all out before I forget it.
Having Big Dreams is the Hardest Thing Ever:
You’re driving on a freeway. It was the kind of freeway that runs through a city, like the kind that sits down below everything and is only in the city. But you aren’t in the city. You are on a stretch that is between two cities. Weird, right?
It is partly cloudy, but only partly. And it wasn’t that cold either. It was the kind of cold that you would wear a flannel shirt and some Levis and be really happy because everyone was wearing the same outfit as you; not just those stupid fucking hipster that live in the cities that you were between.
But, you’re driving. Well, riding actually, in the backseat. Everyone else in the car seams to disappear. It’s just you, Looking out the window like how little kids on road trips are depicted in movies. The traffic is light and moving along nicely.
Even though everything was moving along smoothly, traffic began to come to a stop. For some reason everyone was in the right lane. All of a sudden you hear honking coming towards you in this oddly placed, one way, sunken down freeway in the middle of nowhere.
A line of 5 or so cars come driving back around the bend in the road, all honking their horns. They drive past you and keep going around the last turn in the road, rendering then completely out of sight but the honking still resonated; like an ice cream man.
The semi, that sat about 4 cars in front of you, pulls to the left and stop across all 3 of the freeway’s lanes. The driver gets out and walks over to a serendipitously placed garage door that was convenientlyright next to us. And needless to say, this mother fucker has the key for said freeway garage, and goes inside.
Now, that string of cars that were going the wrong way, honking up a storm, came back. But in the correct direction and not honking. Acting like nothing happened.
Everyone gets out of their cars.
Now there are roughly 25 people out of their cars, walking around and talking to each other on the freeway. Trying to figure out whats up and why the fuck this is happening.
Now you and some of the other people walk over to the garage. The inside actually looked like an auto repair shop. It had the tools and lifts and all the regular hoo-has that come along with one of those places, including a normal door (that was painted red) and another garage door adjacent to to the one that you just walk through. The other garage door was also open. There was a forest behind it. I’m not talking like heavy Narnia or Lord of the Rings forest, I’m talking like Cameron Frye’s back yard in Ferris Bueller’s Day Off. Like, it was forest-y but nothing overwhelming by any means.
People from the free way started funneling into the garage out of curiosity. I mean, how often do you find a freeway garage? People are poking their noses ever where and some guy actually opens the red door from the other side and walks in. He was never in the garage in the first place. How he got on that side and why he went out of his way to open the door instead of just walking through the garage door is unimportant. And stupid. He’s stupid. Or at least it’s safe to assume he’s stupid.
But now you hear two people talking.
An older man, right around 50, and a younger man in his late teens/early 20s. The older man gave off this kind of alpha-dad vibe, but you could tell that he was a little shook up and wanted to offer comfort to the younger man. The younger man looked like he was in shock.
“What happened?” said the older man.
“It just came out of nowhere. There wasn’t a crash landing or a big ordeal. It was just there.”
“What was there?”
“I don’t know what it was. But we all stopped and got out of our cars to see. Then it opened up and this thing came out of it.”
“Wait. Are you telling me that there is a space ship up there and that an alien got out of it?!”
“No. I don’t know what it was. But when we all came over to look, we went numb.”
“What do you mean you when numb?”
“Everything. My head; My hands; My feet; My mind, all went numb. And that is when I got scared.”
I: Cut the lawn and ate some tuna fish.
Finding Inspiration is the Hardest Thing Ever:
Today, one of my friends posted a picture of a Live It Out tattoo.
Although I am overwhelmingly proud of them, and incredibly sorry for the broad that got it tattooed. I am kind of jealous.
I wish I could write a song that would inspire a tattoo.
Keeping Your Chin Up is the Hardest Thing Ever:
Today someone asked me if I believed in karma; or god; or astrology, and I told them ‘no.’ When they asked me why I told them the same thing I tell everyone that asks me that question.
I said: If you’re going to put your faith in something, put it in me. Because I will alway be able to tell you that I’m sorry when things don’t work out.
Then Jordan called me and said that Josh had passed away.
When I got to the hospital, I hugged Eric. And we cried.
I had 3 beers and a rum drink.
Coming to a Ralization is that Hardest Thing Ever:
if a girl tells you she is good at giving a blow job, don’t trust her.
chances are, she doesn’t have a penis and has no idea what a blow job should feel like.
But thats when you suck it up and be a man.
listen to against me.
I had some beers last night, then clonked out sitting up.
Dealin’ with Broads is the Hardest Thing Ever:
Now complaining about girls on a blog, at least in my opinion, gets old very fast. So I try to do it as little as possible. But today, I woke up with one of those “fuck it” attitudes and a slew of facebook notifications. Disclaimer: I’m not looking to exclusively date any of the girls that I will be writing about.
About a year or so ago, I met this girl that was pretty fuckin’ awesome. So we hung out a few times and I asked her on a date. And she said yes. Needless to say, I was stoked as shit. I was gonna take her to the Renaissance Festival. We could get drunk off good beers, eat our weight in turkey, yell at a joust and do what ever she would like when we were there. I mean, even if you don’t dig the whole Ren Fest idea, the first two things sound pretty rad to me, no matter what the situation. But as it got closer to the day we planned on going, something happened and we had to cancel. For whatever reason, we never rescheduled or made plans to do something else.
Ever since then, whenever I hit her up to grab a drink or to do something, she’s busy.
Okay. Now the only reason why any of this make me agitated enough to write about it is her friends and her facebook posts. She’s always ‘why are all guys the same’ and whatever. In addition, on multiple occasions, mutual friends of ours have mentioned that she just needs to go out to a nice dinner with a nice guy, who will treat her right.
We like the same T.V. shows; We like the same movies; We like the same outdoor activities (I know this because it’s a big part of what we talk about). And we have enough common friends that we could skip a large part of the awkward “meeting their friends” stage. I have never once received a phone call or text from her unless I initiated it. And my efforts to contact her are something like maybe once or twice a month.
In late Febuary, I met another girl. Needless to say, I was kinda head over heals for her. She was beautiful; very smart; we liked the same books and music; and when I quoted Star Wars, she knew what I was talking about. The first time we hung out we went to Brew n’ View and watched The Big Lebowski (one of our favorite movies). We got food and beers a few more time in the middle ground of where we lived. Then for something like a month straight, I drove the hour down to Ann Arbor every weekend to see her.
At the time, I wasn’t working much and money was tight, but it didn’t bother me at all. I was just stoked to see her. Like we held hands and kissed each other. She let me sleep in her bed and I poorly cooked her pizza. Then one night I asked the stupid “whats up with us” question. She said she didn’t want a boyfriend and I was cool with it, so we went to sleep. After that she didn’t text me as much, and I didn’t come down to see her.
She came out to my birthday. She was one of my five friends that did (but I drove Matt and Ian, and Chelsea and Courtney were going to be there anyway).
After 22 years, I like to think I know if you are holding someone’s had for support or if you really want to. I don’t know if she was lying to me or if she just really didn’t know how to skate, but she held my had all night. And I didn’t really think she need it to stand up.
Since my birthday, we’ve seen each other in passing and talked sporadically. Occasionally, I’ll ask if she’d like to grab a drink or some food or even watch a movie, but she’s always busy.
I don’t know. Both of these occurrences aren’t that similar. I guess the only reason I brought them up is because the only thing I want to do is take them out to dinner or just spend time with them because I enjoy their company. And they can’t find the time to call or text me when they’re free.
I’m not sending out invitations to a pity party or looking for comfort of any sort. I’m a god damn man. I just don’t get it.