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?