Cigar Bars

Time to continue the nighttime serial posting. I will make this one brief because I am tired, but just had to share…Cigar bars…

So I just got out of the shower and it is 12:30PM. I didn’t go for a run or get wildly drunk and decide to play battleship in the tub like I do on many occasions. I reeked of cigars after spending a good 5 hours in a cigar bar and boy is that smoke hard to get out of your skin and hair (and I basically have no hair). So why then would I write about this – because I can….ahaha

So I am not a big cigar smoker. I don’t think I have smoked a cigar in about 2 or 3years, but when some guys at work put together a guys night I couldn’t pass on the night. Guys nights are few and far between so I jumped right on. What a fantastic night – we went to one of the 4 remaining cigar bars in NYC because of the smoking ban. There are only 4 goddamn bars left – can you believe this? I understand not having cigarette smoking in bars, but there should be more than 4 bars in which you can smoke cigars. I am now convinced cigar smoking is badass – and this is why:

6:45PM: Arrive at bar and am worried I may have to roll up my sleeves because this place looks classy. Oak bar and big lounge chairs, all men, and hot women waitresses – my interest is suddenly awoken.

7:05PM: First beer arrives, brought by hot waitress – basketball games are on and the place smells like wonderfully flavored tobacco and scotch.

7:45PM: Burgers arrive and third round of beers. Burger is so big that I have to squeeze it to fit it in my mouth. The place is filled with me bullshitting in loud volume now.

8:00PM: Spanish/Mexican band starts playing and hot women just magically appear dancing in a very Shakira-like manner 3 feet from my head. Still working on the burger in a comfy chair. This place rocks.

8:45PM: Dinner gone and the cigars and single malt scotch arrive. Ladies keep dancing around to music. Cigars with single malt are sooo soo good. Sitting and relaxing with the aroma of cigars is unmatched.

9:30PM: Next round of scotch and still working on the same cigar. 30 year-old girl walks over and starts talking to me. In the conversation she asks if the group I was with “was having a business meeting”. Seriously – its 9:30 and we are drinking and cursing – that would be one hell of a business meeting. Who cares, this girl likes steak, potatoes, cigars and scotch. I contemplate proposing.

10:45PM: Cigar gone and more beers ordered. This place rocks. It has totally transformed into a speakeasy type bar and this is awesome.

11:30PM: Leave the bar – SOBER! This is a first, but cigar bars are awesome.
No theories or categories or analogies – just scotch, beer, cigars and burgers tonight.

Walk of Shame or Pride? Part II

I am breaking my personal record with three posts today. I just can’t help it. I wrote about the walk of shame and feel so obligated to my readers to provide a story of my most famous walk of shame. Get ready for this one…

So its winter 2006, and it’s time for the annual company holiday which is a black tie event. I throw on my tux and instantly visions of 007 Bond fill my head – I will save that for another day. Holiday party goes well and my tux has done its work – a girl finds me attractive. My attractiveness is some combination of booze, a tuxedo, and the chocolate fountain this place had. Well after the after party at a bar, I receive the golden invite back to the nice young lady’s apartment. I feel like I have just got the last “golden ticket” to go see the Willy Wonka factory. We hop in a lovely NYC cab and on the way back to her place.

Now the real fun starts. So we get back to her place and we….now what kind of person do you think I am? Do you think I would really recount the exploits of this wonderful holiday night and tarnish the image of this lovely girl? Well from what you have read, if any, this might seem like the obvious next step in the story, but I am going to skip it. Lets just say we “watched a movie”, but not the entire feature film.

So time comes for me to leave (I of course get my pants), but oh shit I am in NYC, in a tux, its 7AM and I have to be at work in 2 hours. Can I go to work like this? Dress clothes from the day before is one thing, but there is no way I am pulling off wearing a tuxedo to work on a casual Friday. I gotta get home, but this requires quite a hike and crossing state lines. So I get up, throw on all my clothes and say fuck it, I am not embarrassed, and still look good in a tux so I can go home like this. Now keep in mind I am in a full tuxedo, with the tie hanging around my neck and an ear to ear grin on my face, ready to make a 3 leg journey home:

1st leg – 2.5 block walk to the PATH passing people on their way to get morning coffee, the paper or early birds on their way to work. I get a couple glances, but I am walking a good pace so I don’t notice much.

2nd leg – The longest. A 30 minute ride across(under) the Hudson to get home. Now I am making the reverse commute so the train isn’t packed, but there are still a lot of people on their way to work and there I am sitting on the train in a somewhat wrinkled tux, neck hanging from my neck, smile on face and smelling like expensive single malt scotch. I am in all my glory and even get a nod and a couple smirks from the guys on the train because they knew I was on my way home. Now I didn’t get an evil eye, but there were definitely some disapproving stares from the women on the train.

3rd leg – The hilarious part. Exit the train into a station full of young professionals on their way to work. I am in full stride and still with a beaming smile. I got ass last night and they are all on their way to work so I am clearly in the advantage here. Every third person does a double take as a I stream by them with one resolute goal on my mind – not to make it to work, but to make it Dunkin Donuts for breakfast. I have earned it and normally don’t indulge in the Double D (Dunkin Donuts) for breakfast – tis the season. Still in full stride I blow through the doors and get in line. My sausage egg & cheese on an everything bagel is only 3 people away. I get to the counter, place my order, pay and as I am getting my change back the 50-year old Indian man working the counter says – “Had a good night kid?” – yes sir I did. Most people in a walk of shame would grab their breakfast to go. I sat there eating my sandwich and savoring my coffee because it was tasty. There were many more looks, but I was getting used it now, and I don’t blame them. I was in a full tuxedo at 7:45AM in a Dunkin Donuts. Unfortunately, the 1 mile walk home was uneventful, but it was one hell of a walk of shame. More of a walk of black tie style.

That picture is of Miranda Kerr again - I won't say the walk of shame was home from her apartment, but the girl slightly resembles her...

Walk of Shame or Pride?

Because I have been such a slacker, I am going to make this the first double post day in a while, and this one may just get your attention. We already covered one-night stands, but I would be remiss if I didn’t rant about the glorious walk of shame, the bastard step child of the one-night stand. Whether it’s a college hook up or good old American one night stand everyone has done the walk of shame. More intricate versions of the walk of shame include taxi rides, calling friends to pick you up or various forms of public transportation. For the purpose of this intricate art of bullshitting I call blogging, let’s use a typical Friday night at the college of your choice as the example as we examine the precursors, causes and effects of the walk of shame from both the male and female perspective. You may see a difference here between how a guy and girl treat the walk of shame:

Friday Pre Game
Guy: Drink with other guys while playing video games or watching a guy movie planning what girl(s) you are going to try and conquer tonight
Girl: Spend 1 hour getting ready while going through multiple outfits and have boxed wine

Friday Party
Guy: Drinks a lot really quick to get drunk and have courage to talk to young co-eds, finds a nice young lady who actually thinks he is charming when he is drinking. Girl may be drunk, but she invites him back to her dorm room to “watch a movie”. Guy gets nods of approval from group.
Girl: Drinks at a steady, marathon-like place, moving at regular intervals from tipsy to buzzed to drunk. Finally, the alcohol gives them licenses to accept the advances of a certain guy at the party. They also accept an invite to “go watch a movie” in the guy’s room.

Friday Late Night
Need I elaborate on this – come one we are all adults. If you didn’t know, “watching a movie” is the most obvious code for hooking up or baby-making. It happens in dorm rooms all across American and its probably happening as you read this post – God Bless College.

And now for the good part…

Saturday Morning (assuming you weren’t class and stuck around for breakfast)
Girl: Find your heels. You wore heels out last night as part of your classy outfit, but they easily get tossed in the shuffle of “watching a movie”. Poke the guy who you went home with last night and who is still in his bed. If you get a grunt, that is probably the best goodbye you are going to get – so take that as a positive note that you so ravaged the guy that he is exhausted. Start the walk home through the quad or down the street back to your dorm. Your head is down in an equal mixture of shame and the fact that your makeup went buckwild and migrated around your face. You don’t look up at any people passing by and will even go so far as the walk 4 blocks out of the way to avoid Jen from your Chem lecture. There is no way you are going to pass ofd the outfit you have on now as something you put on this morning, so you walk with the acceleration of an Olympic speedwalker. You hit your dorm doors and have made it through campus without running into any early morning tours or friends. You sneak down the hallway to get to you room. Half the hallway to go…6 doors….3 doors…. “Hi Becky, that outfit looked great on you LAST NIGHT!” You have been caught and oh the rumor mill is put in motion

Guy: Find your pants. Pants are important no matter if you are making pancakes or raking leaves. Get up, say goodbye to girl who found you drunkenly attractive. Time to get home and walk through the quad, down the street or however you get home. Unlike the girl, this is no walk of shame – this is a walk of pride. Your head is held higher than if you graduated with high honors from Harvard. You just got ass last night – no one questions the quality (looks) of the girl – you got ass nonetheless my friend. There is no shame in this walk, only strutting. You have an extra bounce in your step and most likely a smile on your face. You see other guys on their walk home and nods are exchanges and even high fives. Your clothes even appear as if they are fresh because guys always dress like slobs. This glorious night may even inspire you to go eat breakfast on a weekend in the caf (which despite popular opinion, does serve a meal before brunch on the weekend).

Thus we conclude the glorious comparison of the walk of shame. It happens everywhere and at all ages and to various degrees. My sophomore year of college I had a house on the main drag at school and had to be up early (9AM) to go to practice on the weekends and was witness to this ritual on a weekly basis. Fantastic.

Brrr…..Beer

Musings in a Coffee Shop

Again, I proceed to get lazier and lazier with this blog, but oh well. Maybe as the weather warms up so will my creativity. I am not working today, but have been furiously been trying to catch up on thesis work – maybe that’s why I haven’t posted, but it’s probably just because I have been ultra-lazy. However, Panera to the rescue. Yes – Panera, that wonderful hybrid of Starbucks and a high-class deli. It is essentially my library because the recliner, DVD player, dartboard and flat screen in my apartment absolutely ruin any chance I have of doing any real school work.

So I get to Panera about 11:30 this morning to get a good start in cranking out a couple more pages so I don‘t fail out of grad school (although at this point I think they would just pass me to get me out of their school). Now sitting in a Starbucks or any other coffee-type place is like a battle specifically in seating – it’s like a high school cafeteria. Let me elaborate:

Window Seats – for the ultra social people who come with books and newspapers, but really want to talk to everyone.

“Outlet” Seats – the most coveted seats for those working on laptops with no real battery charge and need an outlet. Finding one of these seats is like uncovering a hidden bottle of Grey Goose at the back of your freezer. Hell, people even go so far as to stalk people as they are packing up to leave. In my cruel ways, I frequently fake packing up just to fuck with these people. This will most likely come back to bite me in the ass one day.

Comfy Seats – each coffee place has 3 or 4 chairs that are the most comfortable thing in the world. Even if you went to the trendiest furniture store you wouldn’t be able to get the cushiness of these couches because they have been worn in by thousands of coffee drinkers. These bastions of backrest are usually snatched up by “trendy” people who are reading post-modern novels in another language because reading Jean-Paul Sarte at a table is an insult to the French intellectual movement of the 1880’s – duh!

Back Back Seats – tucked all the way in the bowels of the coffee shop, it is like a morgue back where these seats are. They are essentially the Upper Deck of the coffee shop without the drunk fireman yelling for D. Wright to hit a home run. People back here are writing long papers or on a strict deadline for work. You talk on your phone or even get a text message and you will get the evil eye and possibly spear tackled (which I would pay to see).

Counter Seats – the last option of seats. Everything else is taken up and there are only two tables left next to the counter and right between the Kenyan coffee bean sale and the remnant Christmas crap they are trying to unload on you. Even with your iPod blaring some classic Hendrix, there is no way you will be able to block out the “baristas” shouting their orders – triple, non-fat, light-foam, skinny, mocha espresso – What???? Nobody can last in this seat for more than 15 minutes are you will eventually feel the need to get up and yell – “Just order a large goddamn coffee!”

As a side note, or post-script, this is the first time I am in a coffee shop during the day and during the week. My traditional cohorts of students and corporate junkies are at work or in class. I thought the coffee shop would be empty and I would be able to pump out some pages. Not a chance in hell. I have discovered a world I had all but forgotten about – moms and kids. I am not exaggerating one bit by saying I see 11 strollers and upwards of 25 kids running around Panera right now. And when the hell did strollers get all pimped out? I swear some of these strollers are nicer than my last car – I am convinced one of them may actually have a plasma TV in it and possibly a Wii. Moms and kids (not old enough to be in school) rule the coffee shops during the week it seems. They team up to eat lunch in groups, but even acknowledge other groups of Moms with a simple, very guy-like nod of approval – the kind when you see a guy take a hot girl out of a bar. The one benefit – MILF mania. These moms are definitely taking good care of themselves these days…and I contemplate the career of a male nanny or Manny.

OK – back to work…

Brrr….Beer

Bachelor Series: 6-pack of Bachelor Eats

Again, it has been a long while since I have written. Creativity has once again eluded me like Road Runner and Wiley E. Coyote cartoons. I just can’t find either. Then I got to thinking and figured why not just write about myself and the wonderful bachelor lifestyle. Inflating my ego can’t hurt. Now I know you are thinking the same thing I am. DP, can one entry really sum up the fantabulous lifestyle you live? No – and thus we have the wondrous and magnanimous (yea I got a word of the day calendar) birth of “The Bachelor Series” – your front row ticket to the seedy underbelly of a northeastern bachelor…buckle up and get ready to be offended in every imaginable way. First stop on this tour – food. Really, I am going to attempt to write a whole post about food because I had a good dinner tonight.

Everyone eats. America more than anyone else as is evident by all the show on TV in which losing weight has become a contest. But as a bachelor you follow a completely different and obscure diet. The food pyramid you learned in grammar school is as useless as tits on a bull (I love that expression). I don’t have any cool graphics for my food system because I am lazy and can’t draw so you will have to use your imagination when I describe…..drum roll please…the “6 pack of bachelorhood eats”

#1 – Beer
Come on. Were you really surprised that this was the first group? Beer not only provides essential carbohydrates but also supplies the body with alcohol – a heart healthy compound that also serves to relax you after those long days or weeks at work. Even more – beer comes in a variety of flavors – pilsner, stout, lager, ale, white, etc and lots of brands.
Note: Beer also serves as a hallucinogen when drank is mass quantities making ugly women seem attractive and causing bad decisions.

#2 – Take Out
Ahhh yes – where else can you eat quesadillas, General Tso’s chicken, and a milkshake for dinner? You can’t in one place and thus God’s wonderful creation of take out. In any robust city you will be able to sample a veritable United Nations of culinary options on any given night. Pro bachelors not only know how to order from multiple restaurants to assemble one meal and have an account with delivery.com, but they know how to time multiple orders to be picked up on the way home – for less than $10!!

#3 – Bagels/Sandwiches
Everyone eats bagels and sandwiches, but only bachelors take eating them to a new level. Selection of your bagel place is a very delicate process and given more consideration than pregnant women give when choosing what MD will deliver your bagel. The perfect bagel place must be in walking vicinity, have good food, good service, a hot counter girl and an old man who will memorize your funky sandwich order after only a few visits. And because he knows how to make what your dub (in my case) the “turkey tornado” (pepper turkey, American cheese, mayo, Boar’s hear honey mustard on a fresh everything bagel) he gets your repeat business.

#4 – Meat
Who says that having a T-Bone with a side of chicken wings is bad for you? Protein builds muscles and after the three bagels you had for breakfast you don’t need anymore carbs. However as a bachelor, your meat choices when not eating out are limited to the following; red meat, chicken, sausage, and whatever is in my chili. When you maturity and age have taken over you will learn the differences among the different kind of red meats, but for now if it bleeds you will eat it.

#5 – Cereal/Granola Bars/Fruit/Any other healthy shit
Now and then, after you have downed a half-pound cheeseburger drenched in BBQ sauce with seasoned fries and 3 lagers, you feel a modicum of guilt about what you just ate. In these cases bachelors eat whatever is deemed “healthy” in their apartment. “Healthy” can be anything from Resse’s Puffs to Chewy bars to milkshakes to actual real fruit. If it has something that is remotely healthy than it makes you feel better about the 5000 calories your lunch entailed. This unnatural common senses usually lasts all of a couple hours until a roommate/friend decides to order out for pizza or wings. As a bachelor, you don’t really have to worry about all that cholesterol nonsense just yet. Hell most bachelors can still eat like crap and exercise most of it away. It’s a gift that is eventually stolen away along with one’s youth and alcohol tolerance.

#6 – Drunken, Post-Bar Food
Alas my favorite category and thus saved for last. Bachelors know how to party and drink obviously, but they are the finest connoisseurs in the inebriated-fueled culinary arts. Post-bar food selection normally encompasses pizza, McDonalds or a dinner. However, the real superstars in the bachelor category have honed their drunken food selection to include such rare gems as late night Mexican burritos, all-night bagel places and the Holy Grail of post-bar food – Johnny Rockets. Drunken Post-bar food is bad for you 99% of the time and you always regret eating it the next morning (especially when you taste the Rodeo burger you had at 4 AM), but food will never ever taste so good – except when you are eating it off the chiseled abs of a Brazilian supermodel.

Next up in the bachelor lifestyle – dressing for success with as little effort as possible…


Brrr….Beer

5-year Post-College Plan

So I have again fallen behind on the blogging. Blame school, work, and mostly laziness. Well another great idea came on the bus today. I am going to hit my second parade of the St. Pats season this weekend in the lovely town of my alma mater which had me reflecting on my post-collegiate lifestyle – and by lifestyle I mean the major adjustments I had to make to actually be a member of the adult-working world. So lets all go for a ride on (get ready for another theory) the 5-year post-college plan

Graduation – 1 year
That’s right you’ve graduated. Maybe 4 years. Possibly 5. 6 – way to be a dumbass. Either way you are not allowed at school anymore for fear of being that creepy guy. If you are smart you take the summer off to travel, blow some graduation money or just bum around and drink. Those really ambitious graduates get these magical things called jobs, where you get money for going to an office all dressed up and play on the Internet all day. The nerdy ones decide that they love school so much they want to go to graduate school where all classes are at night – why????
Flip flops, jeans, t-shirts and your favorite baseball hat are still your “uniform”, but you have grown up and will not wear flip flops unless its 40 degrees of higher – very mature. Thursday, Friday Saturday and Sunday-Funday drinking are still the normal behavior, but you learn that beer costs money in bars and keg parties are few and far between. You go back to school every 6 weeks to relive the glory days and are not yet considered creepy.

1 year – 2 years
All nine planets have aligned and by some magnificent act of Thor (the might God of drinking) you are still employed and possibly the recipient of a bonus, raise or promotion. Some of your colleagues at work actually take you seriously because they don’t know what you do on the weekend. Your apartment has grown into adulthood with the addition of pictures on the wall and the occasional cleaning. The fridge space is half alcohol and half real food – some big steps.
You only drink three days a week and have some methods for dealing with hangovers at work. Binge drinking still occurs once or twice a week and you are still able to rebound from 90% of your hangovers. You hit up your old college 4-6 times, but no more than that. Hey – you actually own a suit that fits??? Holy crap. Flip flop level is now 50 degrees or higher.

2 years – 3 years
Routines are starting to dominate your life and you hold a steady job (maybe your 2nd though). Your are probably on your second apartment which has modern adult-like amenities such as a dishwasher and cabinets. Maybe even a kitchen table – but that may be a stretch. You are slowly starting to master this whole cooking thing, but you are still a master of the take out order – probably having discovered just when you have to order dinner to pick it up on your way home without breaking stride.
Your drinking days still number about 3 a week, but binge drinking isn’t so common anymore. Your start drinking the fancy drinks of those Madison Avenue snobs like Gin & Tonic or imported beer. Astonishingly you discover that wine is made by more than Pinto Grigio and Yellow Tail. Must be fancy French wine. You are the master of the Friday morning work hangover, knowing just what to do before bed and what breakfast to order so you don’t seem like a lush in front of the boss all the while laughing at the “kids” at work who just graduated and wreak of booze and cheap sex. Lounges slowly gain popularity as a Saturday night destination. College visits are rare – maybe 1-3 a year.

3 years – 4 years
WHHHAAT??? You are actually having discussions centered around politics, when you want to “buy” an apartment, and your 401K? Get the fuck out of here – you sound like my parents. Your living situation has vastly improved because you now have a parking space and are a regular at the local deli/coffee shop & gym because you are there every morning after the gym at 7? Damn you are getting up early. That’s ok – you go to bed at 10:00PM, eliminating all good TV programming from your life. You are probably in a “relationship” – one whose foundation isn’t from a kegger at your friend’s basement. You even have couple’s night – but don’t worry, you aren’t at “board game night” level just yet – but be careful Grandpa.
Binge drinking is all but gone from your weekly activities. However, you do go full force for St. Pats, Cino de Mayo and any other excuse to act like a college kid again. Don’t worry you haven’t regressed – its just some residual immaturity left over from college. Pubs and packed bars are juvenile to you and paying $9 for a flavored martini is classy. You will only go up to college for some networking or reunion type thing. Oh don’t worry – I didn’t forget about flip flops. They come out in the summer, but are no longer the staple choice for casual footwear.

4 years – 5 years
Why even bother at this point. If you haven’t bought an apartment/house you are definitely thinking about it. Hell, engagement or marriage is no longer something that is talked about abstractly. You ready for the “marriage circuit” in which you will attend 17 weddings in 4 years, and be a best man (1-2), in the wedding (3-4) and just a drunk attendee (the rest). You get lots of sleep, eat regular cooked meals and have some real responsibility at work – you may even manage someone! If you are a stand-up person, you mentor someone about the Friday morning hangover remedy. You can safely call yourself an adult and nobody laughs.
Drinking? What’s that? You don’t drink. You have cocktails and occasionally have one two many (which in your case in 4). Your tolerance drops to that of a high school sophomore. The plus side of this is that you are a cheap date, but dangerously close to being that drunk guy at the holidays and work functions if you have that extra martini. You only go to bars that have seats for everyone and collared shirts are the norm. College has become a distant memory – essentially as far away as 8th grade. Flip-flops (no I didn’t forget about them) are reserved only for the beach or “themed” BBQ’s which are lame but the only way adults can find excitement.

CONGRATS! – You are now an adult.

Disclaimer – this schedule/model doesn’t apply to everyone, but I am saying it applies to most people and I am the one writing this blog so I win but of course feel free to get drunk to disprove my theories.

Brrr…..Beer (yes I still drink beer)

Q&A: Beer, Women, Desert Islands & Penguins

Because I am still recovering from the alcohol induced/blackout weekend I have tapped into some outsiders to help with this next post. Older brother, aka Baseball Banker has agreed to interview me. I don’t know how this one will go, but I am bored and you are reading this, so you are too…

Who would win in a fight, a drunken polar bear of a rabid raccoon?
Fact – polar bears have a top sprinting speed of 25mph over short distances. However, rabid raccoons are fucking crazy. I once opened up a garbage can as a kid and a nutbag raccoon came flying at me. I threw a brick at is tale and it ran away. So therefore – I think I would win.

If you were marooned on an island can you please tell me the: (excellent use of the word marooned – a favorite of Bugs Bunny)
Woman you would want to take there?
Miranda Kerr or Stacy Kiebler (both of whose pictures I will use for no relevant reasons in coming weeks.)

The drink you would want to bring?
Yohoo – its not chocolate milk – but a chocolate drink which means it won’t go bad and it tastes sooooo good…I don’t know why its not that official drink of Zimbabwe

The board game you would want to bring?
Most people would say Monopoly. No way – I am going with Hungry Hungry Hippos despite not being a real board game – Hippos are very cool animals

The weapon of your choice?
A English broadsword – they are badass and completely useless on a desert island but cool to swing around

In what Olympic sport would a drunken polar bear best succeed?
Ski jumping – the kind where you go down the long slide – no need for skis and my weight will carry me way past everyone else

If you could have any job in the world what would it be?
Goalie for the NY Rangers – seriously who will shoot a puck past me – I AM FIERCE between the pipes

If you could switch lives with any person in the world who would it be?
The guy who gets to build all the big Lego models in stores, David Wright or Dierks Bentley

Is the drunken polar bear at all related to the polar bears on the Lost Island? If true do you have anything to do with the mysterious nature of the island.
They are my cousins and although I don’t watch the show they tell me they like to get drunk at night and fuck with the crazy people on the island. Don’t even get me started on the penguins…

If the drunken polar bear could cross-mate with any other species who would it be and why?
Perfection does not need to be messed with…how dare you!

While the polar bears and native to colder climates, how do you cope with the warmth of the New York Metropolitan area in the spring?
The same way humans deal with the ultra-cold weather. Alcohol in mass, mind-numbing quantities

How do you open beers with big paws?
My penguin sidekick Petey. Not only can he open a beer upside down, blindfolded, with one fin, but he knows Kung Fu

Please describe the qualities the drunken polar bear looks for in a mate.
Well I will have to answer this one in reference to the ideal Northeastern women – my apologies for the length, but as the concluding question a real DP-original answer is merited

Three Golden (Obvious) Rules
1.Can’t be stronger than me (I pretend to be strong)
2.Can’t be taller than me (I am decently tall)
3.Can’t have more facial hair than me

After that women are awarded “Bonus Points” on a sliding scale for all of the following:
-Looks – yes I am shallow, but I am not a charity
-Intelligence – dumb girls are like Netflix movies – you enjoy renting them for a couple days, but after a few days you want to send them back
-Sense of humor – mine is twisted and inane, but any kind is appreciated
-Blond Hair (although I don’t discriminated against other hair colors)
-Athletic but not enough to beat me in sports
-Ability to watch a sporting event on TV without commenting on the colors or cuteness of uniforms and knowing what team they are going to root for and why
-Ability to drink beer. Not binging drinking, but you gotta be able to have a Bud Light some days while relaxing and not drink fancy martinis all the time
-Ex dancers of any kind, except exotic. Flexibility is always appreciated…

Super Bonus Points – this are like deal clinchers
-She plays golf
-She knows who Erin Andrews is and understands why all men love her
-Jeans and a plain white t-shirt are part of your normal wardrobe
-You can bake sweet peanut-butter chocolate chip cookies (sexist I know, but who cares)
-She is an avid runner
-When you take her to a sporting event she makes an effort to wear a t-shirt, jersey or hat of your home team. Women pay special attention to this. This is the hottest you ever look to us even if you are all glammed up. Something about you rooting for our teams and in their apparel is ridiculously irresistible
-If you routinely wear a guys dress shirt and nothing else the night after a party or fancy event – its hot
-Most of all – A LOVE FOR BIG GOOFY ARTIC ANIMALS

Brr....beer

12 Drunken Hours

4 liters of water, 8 aspirin, 1 sandwich, & half a bowl of cinnamon toast crunch. That was my diet yesterday because my body was so physically destroyed from 12 hours of binge drinking…and maybe some other stuff

Alcoholism - A disease in which a person craves alcohol, is unable to limit his or her drinking, needs to drink greater amounts to get the same effect, and has withdrawal symptoms after stopping alcohol use. Alcoholism affects physical and mental health, and causes problems with family, friends and work.

Hahaha – by that definition everyone I drank with Saturday is an alcoholic. Who do these fancy medical folks think they are. And “causes problems with family, friends and work”??? Well see how my Saturday went and you can see I was probably the most amusing person in town.

Note: I am not correcting any spelling or filtering any of this story although, by my count, I committed at least 5 crimes.

Friday night: On my way home from work I decided to stop and grab a six-pack from the grocery store. It was after 7 so I didn’t think it would be that crowded. Holy crap was I wrong. It was like it was the end of the world and beer and alcohol were the only currency. The lines were so long and people didn’t just buy a six-pack and a bottle of whiskey. This was like bulk alcohol buying. Five 30 packs was not out of the question. Walking through the parking lot, I saw 4 guys load up their entire trunk (to the brim) with beer and Jack Daniels. This is going to be a good weekend.

12:30AM: I am about to go to bed, but am too excited to sleep. Its like Christmas eve….oh boy oh boy.

8:30AM: Awake and excited. It snowed last night, but that’s all gone. Time to eat a bagel for the debauchery begins.

9:09AM: And it starts…..having my first black and tan watching some cartoons. Sweet nectar of the Gods – whoever discovered this should be given a Nobel Prize.

11:14AM: Just did jello shot on top of a double jameson big irish coffee and a pint of guinness. Its early and i already know i will be drunk by one in the afternoon. Already i am thinking what girls would be morally casual oh yea I am going to be creepy today

11:48AM: About to do a car bomb which will officially make me drunk before noon. Fantastic. I love being irish and irish girls and everything bagels with butter….

1:00PM: Fully drunk now and making an ass of myself but the women here seem to find my idiocy amusing for some reason awesomeness is in my grasp – more booze is needed

1:15PM: I am officially drunk and am playing kings with fuckin Candy Land cards – that girl from candy land is hottttt - i wish she was real - that would be sweet - ahaha i made a pun

1:17PM: Girls yes plural think i am attractive for some reason oh my and booo yah

1:54PM: Where is that girl from beforree? She thought i was cute because I was givin away beeads

2:02PM: Def drunk and where the fuck did everyone go and where are the ladiea

3:22PM: Drunk drunk drunk drunk (on my way to a 2-kegger)

3:23PM: and hungry – I want an omlettte with snickers

NOTE: This is about the point when I got hammered and proceeded to try and pick up a girl and her sister at the same time. I thought it was going smoothly - not so as I work 15 feet from this girl and she recoutned it on Monday morning by asking if I remember what her sister looked like. The next few hours are shaky and there are no text messages, but through eyewitness accounts I know:

I met some girl named Mary
There are 3 new numbers in my phone
I had to erase my text message in-box so god knows what was in there
I played a drinking game where I was the guy drinking as much as possible
I made friends with a small old man in Dunkin Donuts because I bought him a bagel and coffee. He talked about life, I mumbled to myself about beer and cartoons

The text messages pick up again

7:11PM: Whjoa boy

7:13PM: Granyted i have missewd many emails but roick on

8:29PM: Pizzzzzzzzzzza whereee are u

That’s where the text messages stop, but Tuna Titan filled me in on the rest of the night. He videotaped my bouncing around the apartment from 10-11ish. If that tape every gets out, I can never run for any public office but it was fucking hilarious to watch the next morning because on the tape:

-I admit to being drunk and herbally intoxicated (I can go no further on that one) every 45 seconds
-I proceeded to curse at the TV, Tuna Titan (multiple times), the people across the street having a party, the Harp in my fridge, the lack of milk for cereal, and George Carlin
-I put on my customized Ranger’s Hockey jersey and running shorts
-I spilled a 1.5 liter bottle of water
-I threw my keys at a laptop computer
-I dance around the apartment like a jackass like a drunk monkey
-I air high-five the hallway
-And best of all, I try for 2 hours to eat Ellios pizza with the motor skills of a drunk chimpanzee – in no way succeeding to get the paper towels off the bottom of the pizza and dejectedly stop eating it

11:30AM: asleep on the couch

4:00AM: get up to go to bed. Two girls are sleeping in my bed. Tuna Titan leaves a note on the door to leave them alone. I go back to sleep on the couch

8:30AM Sunday: I awake forgetting most of what happened after 5:00PM and feel as nauseating wave rush over me ever time I move.

4:30PM Sunday: 8 hours later I get up off the couch

Needless to say, most people would regret drinking this much. I don’t and will be drinking in a similar manner in 2 weeks at another parade. I probably won’t drink enough to kill a family of squirrels, but I now know what my daytime drinking limit is….

Brrr…beer