Monday, June 28, 2010

Dirt McGirt Pt. II

Waking up at noon to the crust of a 100 key bumps is insufferable. The text alert is already blaring with requests to go out drinking or to meet here or to go fuck her or to go score this. Meanwhile this shitting heat has me sweating before I'm even outside and I begin to masturbate only to think, 'fuck, I'm not even in the mood to finish this process', although I do anyways.

Two thousand dollars in twenties and uncashed checks lay under the mattress and there are bills to pay and banks to hit and creditors to call and I'm so turned off by it all that I try to go back to sleep, only now the sheets are damp and the thought of falling back to sleep in a cold sweat and with a belly covered in semen sounds even less appealing than paying my bills.

The shower jolts some life into me and I don't even bother to use shaving cream as I drag a dull razor across my jaw. Maybe I use some soap and shave around the base of my groin if I feel the day will warrant it (it won't). Bloodshot eyes become clear again and I take on the appearance of everyone else for a while.

I go to a coffee shop. The caffeine pushes me to write and send emails and pretend like I actually do something for a living other than bartend. I take a huge shit at some point. I make small talk with the baristas, most of whom know me well by now.

Outside smoking a cigarette on Broad St. and a familiar face walks past. The same face that belonged to a drunk girl who pissed all over herself and one of my bar stools a few weeks ago. She recognizes me and I wave and I cackle like a monkey. The first laugh of the day and I feel better already.

The day ends at a bar. The day always ends at a bar. I see 'bar' friends. We drink and laugh about the same shit. Maybe we decide to do a line. Maybe I decide to go home early and rest.

Nothing changes until I decide to make it change, which is a decision I make every time I'm coming down.

Nothing changes though.

Tuesday, June 22, 2010

Punch Drunk # 25


This week's Punch Drunk was Part 2 of my 'Bright Lights, Medium-Sized City' piece. My description of life after 2 AM in a bar. Check it out here or find a print edition of Style Weekly and make some attempt to keep up with our city, unless you live elsewhere. Then just read my bullshit.

Monday, June 21, 2010

Dirt McGirt

Pop 20 milligrams of Adderall, take a shot of Hornitos Plata, snort a small line of blow, take a shot of Correlejo tequila, smoke a cigarette because you're fucking wired by this point and need to relax, take another small line of blow but leave a few other small lines on the plate for later, take a shot of rail tequila, smoke cigarette and all of sudden 'later' has come and you're hovering over the plate again with a rolled up dollar bill in hand and holy shit I'm flying high as a kite. Light up another cigarette. Lose weight fast! The easy and fun way!

Sitting at the coffee shop, shaking like a leaf after 5 hours of sweaty 'sleep'. The caffeine hits and I'm in the bathroom shitting out food I never even ate. A wintry mix of fluids seeps out of pores, looking like dehydrated spit on my face. People stare as I walk back to my seat, staring at the dark circles, the perspiration. Grimacing at a smell that can only be described as taking a dump on a corpse in a sauna then coming back 4 days later. What the shit are you looking at bitch? Yeah it's Monday. Go watch The Real Housewives Of New Jersey and pretend like you actually enjoy being an administrative assistant.

Fun news! Fun news! Ex-fling g-chats me, she's engaged! Finally, my first laugh of the day! What an idealistic 22 year old retard. I'm never dating one of these flower-child dissenters again. Unless it's somehow related to an intricate plot in which other hippie bandwagon jumpers would perish in great numbers...Then I might. Plus she sold me a gram of baking soda once, so I'm still a little bitter I suppose. I mean she was hot, but you could imagine my disappointment in that situation. Well, some of you could imagine.

Don't make me go to a bar tonight God. Don't do it. Don't fucking do it. Will a glass of red help? Sure it will. I'm weak God. I'm so weak that I'm talking to someone I don't even care for...Or believe in.

Someone just told me that I've really cleaned up my writing and grown up...Ha, nope, not today.

Sunday, June 20, 2010

Compelling Television Drama

*They let this asshole go on TV from time to time.


Check me out on NBC 12's Restaurant Report from this past Thursday. I'm the sexy beast about 1 min and 30 seconds into the video. They cut most of the good stuff I think, although I was sort of drunk so I doubt any of it was that good to begin with.


Wednesday, June 16, 2010

Style's Annual Bar Guide Is Out


This week Style Weekly's Annual Bar Guide came out. The main spread was a bartender round table piece that I did, which basically consisted of me getting some bartenders together, buying them drinks, and then recording the ensuing conversation. Not surprisingly it turned out to be pretty funny. Check it out here.

I also contributed on a piece that we titled 'The Bar Builder', in which we took our favorite attribute from our favorite bars around town (best liquor selection, best bartenders, best ambiance, etc) and we then built our perfect bar. Check it out here.

Also be sure to pick up the print edition so you can ogle the cover model (pictured above), my fellow bar temptress from Cha Cha's, Heather Dixon.

Lastly, check out a very hungover Jack Goes Forth on NBC 12, Thursday at 11PM for their weekly 'Restaurant Report'. I'll put it online on Friday... Very hungover is a huge understatement.

Tuesday, June 8, 2010

Punch Drunk # 24


This week's Punch Drunk was a special one. I started a two part story describing the end of the night in a bar and we introduced Richmond to the "Pickleback" shot. Sure we're two years too late on the Pickleback, but it is Richmond we're talking about. Read it here or find a print edition of Style Weekly on a street corner near you.