Monday, October 8, 2007

Chapter 8

Wherein the author is not, despite the name, actually dead per se.

I was going to blog about last night's weirdness, but the more I think about it, perhaps I won't. Parts of it were amusing, but it had a tragic twist in the tail that makes me not want to laugh about the earlier stuff. Instead, allow me to present a few rules for polite society.

Try not to mix alcohol and regret. It's the kind of thing that starts out seeming like a good idea and ends up with you on a stranger's doorstep trying to convince them that they are supposed to give you a ride home. (We walked. There was a little staggering into bushes, but no vomiting, so it went better than I had hoped.)

If you do find yourself on somebody's doorstep needing help to get home, no matter how confident you are that you know the way, lead with your address. It'll simplify things.

If you are just a garden-variety fuck up, pull your shit together and solve your own problems. You're sucking up people's ability to cope with actual problems. People should not be sharing their horrible news with me in the middle of the night because the rest of their family is too busy dealing with you. If your problems are your own fault, suck it up and deal, asshole.

And finally, I'm much more comfortable with the whole "crying on shoulder" thing when it remains strictly metaphorical, but you've gotta do what you've gotta do.

S'aright? S'aright. Let's move on.

There will probably not be a Top Chef recap today. Recaps are, like gazpacho and revenge, best served cold. Right?

Work continues to be a crushing grind. Did I mention that I'll be in New York at the end of October?


Writeprocrastinator said...

You have to do the reunion show, you have to. I'm writing to the Illinois legislation to enact an emergency law demanding that you blog about the Top Chef Reunion show!

Johnny Yen said...

Pablo Picasso was never called an asshole. Not in New York. Not like you.

deadspot said...

I'll see what I can do. I'll probably even get in a finale recap before Wednesday, WP, even though the bag is, at this point, relatively cat-free.

I would say that I've never been called an asshole in New York, but it seems inevitable, doesn't it, Johnny.

BeckEye said...

Yay! Another NYC blogger summit?

Elizabeth said...

I hope New York is a vacation. I think you need a break.

Writeprocrastinator said...

"I'll see what I can do. I'll probably even get in a finale recap before Wednesday, WP, even though the bag is, at this point, relatively cat-free."

No way, you know that Hung is still going to deny about a billion things, like knocking over the bottle of truffle oil. Not to mention that everyone will bring up how he wouldn't help anybody (though Procrastinator Junior couldn't understand why no one specifically asked for help).

Don't you want to post on Howie, now that he might have some introspection?

Natalie said...

The worst is being lost while sitting in front of your own front door. Sounds like an interesting night. (interesting is what Minnesotans say when they cant think of anything nice)

Johnny Yen said...

Yeah, just as soon as we get there, it'll happen, won't it?

RE your story-- I usually wait until after I've walked through your door to get loaded. It's the civilized thing to do. And I always show up bringing enough to share.

lulu said...

Try not to mix alcohol and regret.

Would that someone told me this 20 years ago.