hedrinksalot, the blog

Friday, September 30, 2005

just so we're all clear.

i'm really good at being a boyfriend.

joe gets part 1 (well, most likely parts 1 and 2 -- wink wink, nudge nudge) of his birthday present tonight, and i done did damn good.

...so yeah, i'm good. you should all want to date me.

i didn't want there to be any confusion on this topic.

Wednesday, September 28, 2005

i am a man living on the edge of madness.

i hate my job so much that the word hate does not even really do the feeling i have justice. i get headaches at work. i cry. i can literally feel a tightness in my breathing. my hate of this job has moved beyond an emotion and into some form of physical manifestation.

regardless, i am stuck here.
no one else will hire me.

in the last two years, i have sent application materials to some 500+ job postings. the worst part is that i am in no way exaggerating that number.

from those 500 or so, four (yes, as in 4) companies have asked me for an interview.

from those four (yes, as in 4) interviews, i have received two (yes, as in 2) offers.

the other job was selling insurance in new york (no, not as in new york city).

no one will hire me.

and i don't understand why. i went to a good school. i have a good set of degrees. i have interesting degrees. i was in a good program. i was great in the good program. i graduated with honors. i was highly involved and have great experience. i have experience not everyone has. i'm smart. i'm funny. i'm not horrible looking. i'm good at what i do. but no one will hire me.... hell, no one will even interview then decide they don't want to hire me.

most of all, though, i don't like how much of my energy is taken up trying to escape this job. it's all i think about. it's all i talk about. it's all i do... more or less speaking (i mean, i still pee and eat and watch tv and do other normal human things, but when i'm not being human, i'm being the guy-who-can't-stop-hating-his-job). i don't like that for my roommate all her time with me has to be me talking about how i hate my job. i don't like that for my boyfriend, all our talks inevitably reach a point where i'm bitching about work. i do not like this job.

...but no one else will hire me.

Thursday, September 22, 2005

because i'm sick sick sicky and stuck at the ole jobstead...

i just bought $100 worth of undies.

i don't know if they've found the cure for the common cold yet, but i'm pretty sure they should look into underwear.

it's certainly made me feel a little better.

hooray for taking a sick day tomorrow!

Tuesday, September 20, 2005

today at work, i almost made a girl cry.

she asked me for change for a dollar.

and i hate making change for people from the petty cash... especially since the box is really low on quarters.

she asked again, and i told her that there was a change machine in the basement by the student lounge, and i quote, "i'm sure it'd be more than happy to give you 4 quarters... i on the other hand, am not."

she sorta looked uneasy, bit her lip, and did a little shift from one foot to the other. she mustered up her courage, looked me in the eye...

and said, "it's for a pad, and they're only a quarter."

"here's your change."

she literally ran out of the room.

Monday, September 19, 2005

this aptly sums up the me-venture i had last wednesday.

suffice to say, i got shiiiiiiiiitcanned on dollar drinks at spin... not a practice i entirely condone, as the normal drinker may not escape spin without company from spin. ew.

i, however, did, and made my way north to wet my whistle at hydrate... because seriously, my whistle was sooooooo dry.

why they keep letting me back into hydrate or how i keep managing to sneak in, i do not know. but somehow it keeps happening, and somehow i keep making an ass of myself within their walls.

wednesday evening's performance involved me telling people (mostly bartenders) that'd i'd put them on television. because yes, i have that power... in magical drunken brett land. it was a little out of control, as i was creating whole television series around a bartender or a pretty-faced black woman. from television antics, i moved on to being a bathroom diva, whereas i occupied the main doored-bathroom for some 20-30 minutes making phonecalls to "very important people... ones at least more important than you!" (that is a direct quote, as yelled by me to some unfortunate man who simply had to pee). the phonecalls culminated in my super drunk dial to sven and ben.

i believe they coaxed me from los angeles out of the bathroom and out of the bar, whereupon they accompanied me into the streets of chicago so i could find a cab home.

as is my standard practice, i walk while i look for a cab in order to shave pennies off my fare. so i'm chatting to sven and ben, and i tell ben where i am, and he decides to have a little fun with drunkity drunk drunk brett. shame on, ben... shame.

he says, "oh, hey brett, go in this place over here. i swears it will be tons o' fun. you're really going to like it. there's candy... and magic!" (clearly, i don't recall exactly how he got me to go in, but i know it had to be something like that)

so i open the door... and instantly know that ben (the naughty devil) has sent me to a sex shop. while normally i would have just turned on my heel and bolted, the employee (named greg as i somehow came to know) saw me in the doorway, and i just didn't have the heart to bolt on him.

what came to follow is but a hurried blaze or a blurried haze...

i know i asked greg if i needed to pay to come in.

i know i asked about the huuuuuge, literally larger than a football, butt plug that was prominently on display in the center case.

i know i inquired about what was behind the curtain, and greg showed me around the back area and showed me what was in a booth and how the tv's that show porn worked and how you get golden coins to put into the tv's to get them to show the porn... it was at this point that i burst into a very "charlie and the chocolate factory" rendition of "i got a golden coin" much to the delight of sven and ben - because let's not forget that they were on the phone with me still.

i know that at some point while playing with the porn tv and the golden coins that greg gave me for free some man stuck his fingers through a hole in the wall to which i said, "guys, some guy keeps sticking his fingers through some hole in the wall". it was totally unknown to me at the time that this is gloryhole etiquette for "show me your cock". i flicked him in the knuckle.

i know that after being flicked in the knuckle this guy interpreted that as gloryhole etiquette for "no, instead show me your cock" because not a whole minute later, there was a penis in the room with me... correction, two penises (i sometimes forget about my own).

i know that he kept jiggling the damn thing in the hole, which ben pointed out the jiggling meant he wanted me to touch it.

i know i asked if i should touch it.

i know ben said "touch it".

i know i poked the penis like you poke a dead animal with a stick and i know i said "ew".

i know that at some point i took a picture of the penis with my camera.

i know that at no point was i kicked out of the sex shop for taking a picture of someone else's penis.

i know that at some other point i got off the phone with sven and ben in los angeles and then lost my camera in the process.

i know that i realized i lost my camera and went charging back into the back area of the sex shop to find it.

i know i was flinging open doors and inquisitioning people on whether or not i had left a camera in there.

i know that i found the room with my camera in it and got distracted by the porn i left playing on the porn machine tv that takes willy wonka golden coins.

i know some man came in and grabbed my crotch, to which i said, "hey, you can't just go around grabbing people's crotches!"

i know he said, "dude, you're in a sex shop."

i know i said, "touche!" and walked out of the little room, then walked out on greg, and walked out of the sex shop... forever.

Thursday, September 15, 2005

awaiting details on the insanity that was me last night.

when i know, you'll know.

Tuesday, September 13, 2005

yesterday, i almost cried at work.

not because i reflected on my times in new york before and after september 11, 2001.

not because i read the reports about 45 bodies being found in a new orleans nursing home.

not because i saw stats saying some 1600 children are still missing... days and days after the storm subsided.

i almost cried because i hate my job, and i can't seem to fix it.

today, i took a five minute break to go to the bathroom, lock myself in a stall, and precipitate my frustration.

it was the worst five minutes of any job i've ever had... and i used to have to skim turds out of the baby pool at the park in taylorville.

tonight, undoubtedly with a little assistance from molly, i plan to once again try to tackle the problem head on and find a new job. i will blanket every pr, event planning, marketing, media job posting on hot jobs/monster/craigslist with my sundry of personal information.

i am at war with my job, and resumes will be my bullets.

tie a yellow ribbon around the old oak tree and hope that tomorrow brings a new career.

Monday, September 12, 2005

i was born a new yorker even though i was born in illinois.

the blood of its history, its people, its culture, its stories has always coursed through my body.

i grew up with tales from my grandfather about the wonders of new york city. during my childhood, when my mother and i lived with him, he would talk for hours about his childhood in brooklyn and about being a young man in a city that never sleeps. he sincerely loved that city; an immigrant, it was america for him.

he never got to go back before he died.

his admiration was contagious. in mid-august of 2001, i ventured to my grandfather's golden city for the first time. i say begrudgingly that he did not do it justice. it was everything and more. being there was like completing the edge pieces on the puzzle of my life... letting me finally start on the center... on the real meat. it was like being home.

on august 11, my friend angela and i went down to the harbor to squint at the statue of liberty from across the water. we investigated cheap t-shirts for loved ones back in illinois, and from the safety of a bench while munching on baguettes and curling our toes on our flip-flops, we watched the hustle of grey suits, marching to the humming beat of business. we breathed in new york, and it exhaled a new life into us. it was like spiritual cpr. all, quite unknowingly to us, under the iconic presence of the twin towers.

a month later, from a small living room in illinois, i watched as they disappeared. as beth cried for her dad's colleagues who surely died upon initial impact, i was silent. unflinching. clearly shaken, but not falling. not yet.

and for the boy who hadn't noticed them in the first place, it wasn't the physical absence of the towers that shook me when i returned to new york some years later. it was as i walked alone by the site that i finally fell. standing there breathing, i could taste, smell, feel the difference this had made in new york... in the world. teetering from the drama of it all, i was eventually brought to my knees. i stayed there for quite some time, staring into the pit and remembering everything from that day and days before. the smell of jet fuel. screaming and tears. glass thunder and rain made of those grey suits. a wall of smoke. darkness at 10 am. my grandfather's golden city, sleeping for the first time.

i don't remember getting back up... i only know that, like the city itself, i did.

Friday, September 09, 2005

at 1:30 last night, i got a voicemail from celine dion.

she said she missed me. she wants me to manage her career again. she chatted on at length about our ugly baby and how glad she was that we had the baby.

she told me she misses her family while she's out in vegas. renee is doing well, though.

before parting, she sang a bit of "i drove all night".

she sends her love.

sidenote: who is the drunk fuck who pretended to be celine dion when they called me last night?

Thursday, September 08, 2005

read it.

feed it.

love it.

Wednesday, September 07, 2005

only like the greatest post ever!

seriously.

ever!

okay, considering that i am a popular search result for all things tana munblowsky...

i'm putting up a picture of her so that those wandering through here by the whims of google do not leave empty-handed.

she's the blonde.

honestly, brandon.

Tuesday, September 06, 2005

à la matthew d

7 things i plan to do before i die
-host a tv show
-make page 6
-live in new york
-have kids
-have a personal assistant
-be a commentator on "i love the '00s"
-have no more than 5 husbands

7 things i can do
-say the alphabet backwards quite easily
-tell you more than you'd ever really need to know about millenium park, the university of illinois, or ancient greek civilization
-give great head
-make most people feel unwelcome within the first few minutes of meeting me
-live without naps
-drink more than someone my size should be able to
-woo your parents

7 things i cannot do
-cry on command
-find jeans that really fit me
-like mushrooms
-stay in my current job
-cook without making a huge mess
-be in the same room as coffee cake without eating pretty much all of it
-live without the internet

7 things that attract me to the same or opposite sex
-freckles across the cheeks, shoulders, or bridge of the nose
-short, dark hair and green eyes... together
-nice arms, chest, or (predictable, yes) ass
-a contagious laugh
-a good relationship with friends and family
-a love for adventure or the spontaneous or danger or the exciting
-the ability to get me

7 things that i say most often
-bitch
-shit
-for real. or for real?
-stipend checks only come in on tuesdays and fridays.
-molly...
-mer... aka "the sad sound"
-shut up.

7 celebrity crushes
-johnny knoxville
-george clooney
-brandon flowers
-rodrigo santoro
-justin theroux
-josh wald
-tom ford

i'm not going to tag anyone else...

but feel free to do it, if you so desire.

Friday, September 02, 2005

friday confession:

anytime i'm walking a long stretch (like to the train or to and from lunch or something), i totally practice my "model walk".

you know, because i'm going to get discovered as the next big thing for gucci, while walking the streets of chicago in search of the closest sandwich joint.

...so if you see me walking alone, please don't wave because you just caught me model-walking, and the embarassment would make me implode.

ring the mobile instead.

then we can both keep strutting.

iiiiiiiiiiit's johnny!

ain't nothing wrong with that.

5 songs i am very (intimately) involved with right now:

1. satin chic - goldfrapp
2. emerge (adult mix) - fischerspooner
3. stay - lisa loeb
4. wedding bell blues - the fifth dimension
5. never leave your heart alone - butterfly boucher

brett forgot it's labor day weekend. give him something fun to do.

a friend of mine is from new orleans.

he lives in new york, now, but his family is still very much in the nola.

they're currently stranded in their 3rd floor home on the shores of lake ponchatrain.

here's a snippet from an email he sent this week.

The rents got in touch with me yesterday...My dad started crying on the phone - he's going stir-crazy and, mama's boy just like me, is upset because he's been unable to reach my grandma who is safe with other relatives but temporarily unreachable due to the cell phone/504 situation as well. It was hard to take, and of course that made me lose it at work. My mom says that she saw a body and that it was pretty traumatic for her. She also watched a nearby business burn down to the ground/water line, and no one could get to it and/or cared. It was a helpless moment for her. But, on the bright side, she says, she was interviewed by a passing news crew for the Today show. She hopes someone taped it. Yup, that's my mom! She's also looking forward to getting new carpets. This is how she deals.

Cops do know that they are still there because looters climbed the fence of the condo and were caught trying to break into some of the other apartments. Turns out that one other tenant did stay and he's taking the martial law thing very seriously. He has guns and is not afraid to use them, even offering my mom one of them for protection. My mom declined. He sounds like the Tim Robbins character in War of the Worlds, if you saw that. Anyway, he and some cop dude and my dad boarded up the spiral staircases with some old wood to help slow down such characters. I'm sure it made me dad feel very butch and useful, which was good for him. Terrifying to have to worry about getting killed or attacked by people at a time like this.

Those little rickety lakefront seafood places - Joe's Crab Shack, Jaeger's and the like - they can see where they USED to be... But without electricity, they haven't seen any of the devastation on TV or whatever past their neighborhood. They only have the battery-powered radio so who knows what they're picturing in their heads with these dramatic (yet fairly accurate) reports: "This is our tsunami!" I don't have the heart to tell them that the reality is probably just as bad if not worse than their imagination.

The pool is on a raised level and they are flushing the toilets with pool water. Very glam.
They know they have to leave but they don't know how or when this is going to happen. They assured me they have plenty of provisions. Paw Paw told me, though, that he's getting a little concerned that they're just about out of liquor. At least the old man's in good spirits. I didn't realize it, but my mom cooked all of the perishables like a mad woman as the storm approached. If nothing else, this situation has helped to remind me how much I enjoy the words "perishables" and "provisions."

As you can see, I'm trying to remain in good spirits as well. What else can you do? I'm not gon' cry like Mary J.

our lives are so small. and so important. and so terribly scary. but it's all we got.

give what you can.

their lives are all they've got.

Thursday, September 01, 2005

some sage advice on the fratties as originally posted to byron:

some things i have learned about frat boys:

1. you can steal from them, and they probably won't ever notice. it's hard to catch that your coldplay cd is missing between old styles, playstation, and bong hits.

2. flip-flops, a backwards baseball cap, and a striped button-down will always be haute couture for the fratastic.

3. if you do get caught stealing from them, just pretend you're british. even fratties know that nothing pulls in tail like an accent. you'll probably be forced to be "buds" because of this.

4. frat boys like many large animals work in herds. a lone frat boy is a weak frat boy. this is the time to strike.

5. keg stands : frat boys :: peace pipes : native americans

6. if you must attend a frat party, be sure to bring 3 girls with you. this is the proper number to ensure entrance. it says, "even though one of these bitches is my girl, two of you thugs can score with the other two mad honies." the 2 to 1 ratio is very key. any more than that, and you've clearly labeled yourself as a homo.

7. when in need of beer tickets, simply point to the drunkest blond in the room and say "my sister really wants more to drink..."

8. and above all else, when in doubt, just nod and say, "sweet".