You were looking for a new apartment. You hate looking for a new apartment. Your friend was being flaky. Didn’t show up to a showing with you, didn’t even know if she was going to stay in the city. She was close with one of your regulars at the bar you two worked at and there happened to be a unit being remodeled in his building right below him. He offered you a viewing of his place to get a feel for the layout. You were supposed to see it after work one day when your friend gets too drunk during her shift to make it to the showing. You don’t have his number so you can’t contact him. He finds you on Facebook and messages you. He was disappointed, she had told him to make dinner for you two and he bought all this stuff. You apologize like crazy and say you’ll make it up to him.

Oh yeah? How’s that? 😉

Bros really know how to turn nothing into something. He’s hot and sort of douchey so you decide to roll with it. He gives you specific instructions. A time and a place. Specific clothing he wants you to wear.  Finally put some use to the hundreds of dollars of lingerie just sitting in your closet. You’re pretty sure things like this don’t happen in real life. You were fresh off work when he texted you to come over so you told him you were just in jeans and t-shirt. He said he needed you anyway.

He was one of those. That guy. With his blonde hair and his baby blue eyes. And those dimples. Oh god those dimples. It should be illegal to have such adorable dimples. Clean shaven, except when he was swamped at work, which was pretty much always. It hurt you, the day you had to write him up for being late to work…again. Your GM made you do it. It was a Sunday. Everyone knows there are no rules on Sundays. But you and your GM had a falling out. You two actually hate each other now. And this guy is his friend too, his roommate. But you had to do it. He’s not happy with you, but that’s expected. It’s so hard to be mad at him. Those dimples. You keep looking at them. They’re just so aggressive. You feel really awful so you treat him to a Sunday Funday after your shifts end at 4pm. He tells you how mad he is at you. You remind him that it’s just for show and that no one will ever check those files.

He delivers your keys to you at work the next day. You were in the basement making buckets of margarita mix.

“Yo McPhee, KOBE!”

You started working at a bar when you were 20. You actually just had your six year anniversary last week. It worked great with your school schedule and it wasn’t bad money. You had only been there for six months until you were promoted to manager. By then your coworkers had become your family. To this day some of them are your best friends. You were in the world’s most amazing relationship the whole time. You and him were in love and you told each other this not even two months in. When his classes started to conflict with his job you took on more hours at the bar. He was studying corporate law. You two planned on getting engaged after graduation and plan the wedding while he was getting his JD. So you took care of his half of the bills and he got angry. Angry that you spent too much time at work. Angry that he wasn’t the provider of the relationship. Mostly just angry when he would run out of weed. One day he told you that you felt more like a roommate and not like his girlfriend. You confided in your GM. You two were good friends and he was also going through a rough patch in his relationship. You two would stay up drinking and talking about it until 6am sometimes. This really didn’t help your relationship but he was the only person that seemed to understand. Soon after the fighting started. You two had never fought before until now. He dumped you every weekend while he was drunk and apologized the next morning with “I’m sorry baby you know I don’t mean it I love you.” After the eighth weekend in a row you told him you couldn’t do it anymore. You ended it. Four years down the drain. Your life was over. And you didn’t know who else to turn to.

You didn’t know anyone at school, but that’s the reason you went away. You needed a fresh start, a whole new chance to be the girl you envied in high school. The effortlessly cool girl that everyone loved. You came here for another reason too: a boy. Of course it’s a boy, you’re still years away from becoming emotionally jaded. He was yours when you agreed to move out of state of he’s not anymore.

Your dormmate is a partier, something you don’t know you have the gene for yet. She knows a lot of people, older guys not living in the dorms. You go with her to their apartment to play beer pong. Beer still tastes like warm stale urine to you so you stick with vodka shots. Not the good kind. He was your beer pong partner that night and had an exam in the morning but that didn’t stop him from inviting himself over to your dorm. It seems strange that he can just walk into a freshman dorm no questions asked. You later see yourself referred to as “his kryptonite” on Facebook after that night.

chicago

You were already tracing your fingers over his collarbone when you woke up. Or came to, whatever. You don’t know the exact words. The hangover has left your brain a little hazy.

You were thinking about someone else’s collarbone. The guy you put your whole life on pause for. He’s with his girlfriend now so you don’t exist to him again until Monday. He texted you “I want to feel you cum” last weekend. You contemplate how to politely tell someone that their boyfriend texted you “I want to feel you cum” last weekend, but this guy has too many naked pictures of you to use as revenge if you fuck up his relationship. One of which he requested yesterday, a few hours before his girlfriend arrived. You feel almost relieved that he chose her over you but you still can’t let it go. He was it for you. You met him and thought, this is it. There’s no one else. You had been closed off for years, hurt from your last relationship, until he came into your life. He brought all the feelings back. All the vulnerability, excitement. It didn’t matter that he was 2000 miles away, you were ready to commit your life to him.

Then the day came he needed to talk. Talk about him seeing someone long-distance. Someone that wasn’t you. You tell yourself she won the battle but you’ll win the war. That when shit goes down, you’ll always be the one there. That no matter what, he’ll always be in your life in whatever capacity you need him to be. That feeling lasted about two days. You knew what capacity you needed him. And he couldn’t do that. Then the crying happened. Thirty-six hours of you bawling in bed, thinking about how he chose her over you. How you put yourself out there, put all the time in, was going to sacrifice everything. And for what?

You eventually have to suck it up and go to work soon. There’s nothing that red lipstick and a pre-shift white wine can’t fix. He made a comment about your red lipstick, the boy you’re currently pretending is someone else.

I like the dark lipstick. Girls don’t really wear that much these days.

It was a busy night at work, you don’t remember why though. You were trying to get through your shift without completely losing it. You’ve exchanged harmless flirtatious comments with this guy before but that’s not new to you. You weren’t voted “Biggest Flirt” at your spot in college for nothing. Today did seem a little different though.

The night goes on and you and your coworkers slowly clock out and gather for your post-shift drinks. You find yourself talking to him. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say you and him were hitting it off. His girlfriend that works for the same company would say otherwise but she’s not here. You are. He usually never sticks around for shift drinks. Naturally, your coworkers are ordering shot after shot for everyone. They’re degenerates just like you.

The next thing you know you’re at a 4am bar with some of them. He’s not there. But then he is. You both mingle with the crowd while giving each other the side-eye. The look. THAT look. Everyone else is leaving now and it’s just you two left.

You wake up naked at his place the next morning. You’re wrapped in a plaid blanket on his couch. Drunk-You couldn’t remember which room was his after going to the bathroom post-hookup so you stayed there. You make your way back to his room, plaid blanket and all, and start to put your clothes on. He wakes up. In that cute sleepy voice all boys seem to have, he says

That’s a good look for you.

You check your phone. It’s almost 9am. You have just enough time for your traditional walk of shame latte before you need to get your life together and go into work again. It’s Saturday so of course you’re working a double. He’ll be there for the night shift.

He’s cut early. You’re still working. He talks to a girl close to your station for a while before he pulls you over and says

“Kelly, have I ever introduced you to my girlfriend?”

You shake her hand and say its so great to finally meet her.

thursday, january 1st 2015

12:31am: Our new years resolution of only one rumple a night = fucked.

12:32am: GODFUCKINGDAMNIT

12:35am: Jeff asks me to switch flannel shirts with him. I tell him he can’t handle my flannel.

12:51am: Whole bottle of 337 –> Rumplemintz –> Talking in my manager’s accent

[Start Sam’s handwriting]

1:01am: Random guy I don’t know is tapping me across the bar with one of those selfie sticks

1:02am: I drank my 4th glass of wine in 41 minutes. I will not go to Thai’s. I will not go to Thai’s. I will not.

1:04am: Kelly goes on a rampage against the Backstreet Boys

[End Sam’s handwriting]

1:12am: Sam doesn’t know Tai’s is spelled without an H. “I thought it was like the country!”

1:17am: Sam adopts a rumplemintz and raises it and loves it as if it were her own

1:19am: My body is a garbage dump

1:36am: “Suck my dick my good friends because this is happening”

tuesday, december 30th 2014

12:42am: #COOLTHEJETSTHEREHOMESLICE

12:45am: Alyssa and I have had no Rumplemintz tonight and we will keep it that way

12:59am: We decided bottles of Natty are a better idea #TheHumpty

1:10am: It’s called Instabang and it’s 100% totally free #MelvinWouldHaveThis

tuesday, december 16th 2014

1:55am: Just found out the real meaning of the Hot Greg

1:56am: Saw some Hot. Gregs.

1:59am: Cab driver assumes correctly

2:01am: Bridget asks cab driver, “you want some boobs? You want some butts?” and he replies that he just wants to make tips. I respect that.

2:08am: Sam pulls out mittens to drink her beer. Tai’s is quite chilly so I’m a bit envious.

2:37am: I asked the time and Bridget told me “it’s Bridget-Thirty, always.”

[[Begin Bridget-Thirty]]

Phil enters stage right

“Anytime someone takes a shot of rumple it’s a bat signal to call TBone” – Bridget

Bridget gets excellently involved with an involved in an interpretive dance off with a man in a pink shirt

[Begin Sam’s handwritting]

Bridget’s hair danced and did beautiful artistic moves with a guy wearing pink and Zack Galifinakis hair. It was majestic.

[End Sam’s handwriting]

I imagine this is like when a unicorn prances

BLANK SPACE

[Begin Sam’s much angrier handwriting]

He prob shampoos with Pantene. So lustrous. So shiny.

I HATE THESE YOUNG GIRLS. IF YOU WEREN’T ALIVE IN 1987 I HATE YOU.

Pink guy aka the dolphin is passed out on the bar

[End Sam’s much angrier handwriting]

Phil, on the other hand——— looks like Phil

[[End Bridget-Thirty]]

monday, december 15th, 2014

I originally only planned on doing this for certain alcohols/events (wine, Jameson, tequila, power hour) but decided to write down a normal night out just to see what I’d be working with. Here that is:

4:32pm: bartender asks me to text a certain Saints player and ask him not to make any plays because he is on his opponent’s fantasy team and if he wins today he goes to the playoffs. I tell him I’ll see what I can do.

8:14pm: ask my manager if we can take shots when said certain Saints player scores. Manager asks why. I explain the situation and my history with him. Manager says “absolutely.” Bartender is not happy.

First shot: Dragon Bomb

8:48pm: drank a Red Bull. Immediate regret.

11:15pm: Bears game has left me empty and afraid. Fireball has begun. Alyssa has had one glass of wine and three shots when I clock out and join her.

11:19pm: Manager is telling us awful tequila-drunk stories

11:54pm: Arrive at the Diag Bar and Grille, DBAG for short. Timmy Too Tall smacks whatever I’m holding out of my hand upon arrival. Alyssa orders a Hot Greg. Hot Greg is street slang for Pinot Grigio, which isn’t a real thing. I order a PBR, which is also not a real thing.

12:02am: We start to plan out which nights we are documenting. Although there will be temptation to take shots during wine night, we must be strong. I have faith in us.

12:04am: Wine. Jameson. Tequila. Power Hours. Ride The Rail.

12:05am: I have ranked all the male bartenders at work and they are aware of where they stand. Alyssa is angry with my rankings and says they are wrong and we will have to have a discussion about it tomorrow.

12:14am: Approximately 12 hours after Alyssa told me she is swearing off Rumplemintz she orders shots of Rumplemintz. She has a problem. A problem only Rumplemintz can solve. She has also divulged all of my dirty slutty secrets to Timmy Too Tall and I have zero regrets.

12:19am: Realized the guy from Tinder I’m talking to has 666 in his phone number. I’ll ignore it because I’m painfully single and he loves Cutler as much as I do.

12:29am: Realized it’s Tuesday and Timmy Too Tall and I are not allowed to talk on Tuesdays. This is not good.

12:34am: Dennis enters stage right

12:36am: Jameson

12:39am: White guy named Jamal

12:55am: FIREBALL. Alyssa tells me her and Timmy Too Tall were talking about me when they smoked outside. Alyssa also wants it known that she is NOT doing a Hot Greg.

12:56am: Alyssa yells “WHY IS THIS HAPPENING?” I struggle to come up with an answer.

12:57am: Alyssa talks to random hot dude at the bar. Turns out he used to work at Crossing. (Nick) [he wrote his own name in]

12:59am: Alyssa’s hand has a stroke. It will all be okay.

1:06am: Loaded regular gives me his phone so he can friend request Alyssa. Asks me “So wait how do I become buddies with her?”

[Start Nick’s handwriting]

1:14 PBR and Miller Lite

1:22 Alyssa stood on chair for unknown reasons and was caught by a hot tall dude

[End Nick’s handwriting]

1:34am: Alyssa has taken two shots of Rumplemintz. I have as well.

1:40am: Guy talking to us (Dennis) sees Alyssa flirting with another dude (Nick) and threatens to not pay for our tab. I laugh at him and now he is more angry than before.

2:35am: Dear Journal. Uh oh.

2:36am: There’s a turkey in the smoker. Shepard’s Pie. Awesome Blossom. 222. Grand Slam.

what your drink says about you

Big-Name Domestic Light Beer
While you know that the beverage you’re about to enjoy has as much flavor as an old cup of tea make from urinal briquettes, there’s just something comforting about watching those little mountains turn blue. Chances are also very high that you’ve never met a frat (I’m sorry, fraternity) party that you didn’t like.

PBR
You’re either:

1. A 65-year-old man who earned his living as a truck driver wanting to enjoy a working man’s beer

2. A twenty-something “writer” living off monthly checks from your parents while trying to make it in the Big City. Your love of PBR is as ironic as your Howl at the Moon tattoo, both of which are obnoxious enough to cover up your underlying fear of actually making it big and losing your “edge”.

Local Microbrews

You care more about being seen drinking a little known organic, locally grown, cage-free IPA than what it actually tastes like. But these 10.4% ABV brews are not the same ones you pounded in college and by beer number three you’ll wonder how in the world you got so drunk.

Vodka Redbull

Mixing liquor with energy drinks is like announcing to the world “I don’t always like to get drunk but when I do, I like to get completely out of control.” Except without the first part because let’s be honest, if your go-to drink is a VRB, chances are you already snorted at least 3 Adderall today.

Tequila Shots

You work so hard and are so underappreciated in all aspects of your life that you deserve a little reward at the end of the day! So you’re with your best girlfriends Brittany and Jill (a Carrie and a Charlotte/Miranda, respectively) at El Azul Mercada for happy hour margs to blow off a little steam and—OMG is that your ex-boyfriend with another girl?! Excuse me, waiter? We need 14 tequila shots. Where are the limes?!

Rum & Coke

You just spent $9 on your watered down drink at a mono-syllabic nightclub, like Mint or Peak, and you’re just waiting for an excuse to start a fight with somebody. Unfortunately, you spent too much time at the gym maxing out your lats and tri’s so you can’t even turn your head when some bro spills a drink on your Sean John wifebeater. You’ll find him next time bro.

White Wine

You’ve done a lot of growing up in your first year of graduate school; tastes have matured, hygiene has gotten slightly worse, and you now worship Liz Lemon as your personal god. Nothing compliments your passion for Post-Feminist Poetry of the 19^th Century like a dry, dry chardonnay, which you order at the same frat bar you frequented as an undergrad. It will be handed to you in a plastic cup just like everyone else but still muster enough pretentiousness to look down on every Neanderthal drinking Busch Light around you.

Martini

You’re only 20 but you don’t want anyone you’re with to know so you look for the first cocktail on the menu that ends with “-tini” (Classic Martini, sounds good right?) in hopes the bartender won’t card you, because nobody with such a sophisticated palette could be underage. Unfortunately, you didn’t realize what you ordered and now you’re stuck trying to get your face not to contort so much as you choke down straight gin.

Jagerbomb

“Hey have you seen that—“
“Yes for the tenth time, we’ve all seen My New Haircut.”
“…..Oh.”

You’ll do just about anything for a story. And by anything, I mean literally anything. Like anything, seriously you’re down for it and oh my god why do you suddenly feel like punching a wall?