reading listening to Elvis Duran’s audio-book (my first ever), titled Where Do I Begin? Stories from a Life Lived Out Loud. Elvis Duran has always been one of my favorite MC’s and I listen to his morning show on the way to work every day. He is crass, outlandish, and hilarious to listen to, so I wanted to check out his book. I was not disappointed – it met my expectations of crazy stories from his life that he was not ashamed to tell, regardless of what repercussions might come his way. He talks about funny sex stories, public urination, having to navigate his career as a sometimes-hated person, living his life unapologetically himself. I enjoy listening to his book is that it is super relatable. I don’t mean the fame and the celebrity radio show. He is a normal person who happens to have crazy life stories in which his audience can find humor, but at the end of the day, he likes to go home, do nothing, and be lazy. My goal with this blog is to be relatable to you, my readers. I recognize that I am not a celebrity and most people may not care about my life stories if they don’t know me. Also, it is much easier for men to talk about going to pound town than women because of a certain stigma. But the point is, when someone can share their life in such an open way, others start to feel comfortable with the cards that they have been dealt and start to realize that you can be yourself. Anyway, that was not the topic of this blog post. I just wanted to take a moment and reflect on why I am doing this. I have received amazing feedback on this blog and I thank each and every one of you. You will be on the dust jacket in my book one day. Also, I have business cards! You can find me wherever you find business cards.
Although I am a lazy person who enjoys sitting on my couch and not talking to others, much like Elvis, I do enjoy a night out where I get absolutely shit-faced to the point that all those frogs are lookin’ a lot like Prince Charming. I was drunk at my usual spot one night when the bartender dared me to make out with a guy at the bar for $20. I told her I’d do it for free because he was hot, and I did. At least my beer goggles told me he was hot. No idea what he actually looks like and for all I know, we sit next to each other every time I am there. One weekend, my friend and I went so wild during our 1 hour pregame (who the hell pregames at this age), that she blacked out and played human pinball with all of the bar guests. At about 10 pm, after a good vom sesh in the bar bathroom, I took her to my house, threw her in my bathroom and went right back out to the bar by myself. I know, I’m a good friend.
I remember sitting at the bar, hanging out with 2 of my favorite bartenders, Lauren and Trevor, when Lauren asked if I would sleep with Trevor if he was the last person on Earth. I said, “I would sleep with Trevor if he wasn’t the last person on Earth.” Lauren says, jokingly, “ew with his butt chin and everything?” -_- Now, if you know me, you know that I too have a butt chin. Lauren was so funny about it because she said “as soon as that was coming out of my mouth, my brain yelled ‘ABORT! ABORT!'”. Nonetheless, at that point in my drunk journey I would have slept with anyone at that bar. I even said that aloud. One super hot guy next to me turns and says, “Anyone?” I looked him dead in the eyes and said, “Anyone.” At that point, he got up and left, but it didn’t stop me from making those “you up?” texts. And, when your booty call comes to pick you up at the bar during closing time – I bet you couldn’t read that without singing the Semisonic song – and he is friends with everyone there, it is very obvious what we’re doing, I’ve come to learn. I got several texts the next day about it.
The best part of this story was when I got home with said booty call, my friend was still laying on the bathroom floor. I put her in my bed with a bucket and a glass of water next to her, and went to my guest room. I woke up around 4 AM to use the bathroom and there she was again, on the bathroom floor, underwear-less with a tampon string hanging out. I am really happy I am the one that found her that way rather than homeboy. I put her back in my bed, put a pair of my underwear on her – this was after her refusing she needed underwear even though she was very aggressively on her period and laying in my bed with white sheets – and went back to sleep. Upon waking up, she comes into the guest room and cuddles with us. She has no shame. It’s a weird friendship but I love it.
Apparently, I am the easiest person to ghost. It happens a lot. Like, a lot a lot. I just recently (yesterday) found out that the booty call mentioned above had been ghosting me for a month… I didn’t know this until he told me and apologized. We immediately made up though *wink* and he awkwardly high-fived me goodbye. Just this morning at 9:30 am, I received a text from a Tinder ghost-past saying he was going to be in town this weekend if I wanted to still f*ck him. Never met him in person nor has he spoken to me in 2 months so I’m going to pass, but thanks. And of course you all know about the other ghosts – Parker, Kyle, many others I can’t name. These fuckbois must not know how dope I am. It’s OK, though, because I will blast their shit on here. Y’ALL LUCKY I DON’T USE YOUR REAL NAMES.
To anyone reading this, just do me a favor and don’t give out candy to all those ghosts this year on Halloween. They don’t deserve that sugar.
Remember, live life a little more spicy and make light of your uncomfortable situations. They may get you a NY Times Best Selling Book.