This may seem like a silly blog about drinking and to some degree, shenanigans, but there are real scientific breakthroughs being made. I know what your thinking. What possible realization could I have possibly come up with that would rock the scientific community? A discovery that could finally give me the recognition that even my wang couldn’t give me (the peer review process is a lengthy one *That’s what she said!*)… Time Travel!!

It’s no longer a theory. I can do it. I don’t need a special capsule or high tech wizardry. All I need is a minuscule portion of NASA’s budget (though it seems a significant percent of mine) and time to warm up. The side effects of time travel vary from incident to incident and are usually not felt until the next day. In fact, the next day, you may need to have what I call, “Story Time.” This is where someone who witnessed your time travel must help you fill in the details, provided they did not time travel with you. Oh, I guess I forgot to mention that other people can do it too. They just might not call it time travel. Ha! First!!!

Here’s how it happens. I drink. This may seam like that beginning of just about all my good ideas. It may be, but to time travel, I have to drink hard. Most often it starts with DTD, or Day Time Drinking. Doesn’t have to, but it helps. The sure fire way to get the job done, is to drink a bunch of beer, then just when it seems like it would be a good idea to stop… buy shots. Lot’s of them. Make it your job. I recommend lemon drops and Washington apple shots. The sugar only helps with the process. If you do it right, you will suddenly find yourself in another place in the future. If your lucky (or really really unlucky) you will arrive in another bar, with a random drink in your hand. Sweet! More booze! (save me please)

I don’t like to time travel alone, so while I’m on my physics defying journey, I usually buy shots for myself (’cause that exactly what I need at that point) and anyone I think should join me. It doesn’t matter if you don’t want to time travel, you’re coming with. Sometimes we all end up in different times. That’s cool though, it helps us fill in the time we were traveling through. Time and space travel is even more fun… when you have no idea where you are.

I think the worst part is when you get to your “destination”, you can realize the expense of time travel. Especially when traveling with others. The stories can be more exciting though. I mean sometimes you can actually have people realize you are time traveling and ask you about it mid trip. Happens to me. I’m like, “Yep, see ya later!” and POOF!! Of course I don’t remember it at the time, or that wouldn’t be time traveling would it smart ass?

Nay sayers might claim that this is simply “blacking out”. I beg to differ. First, I feel like blacking out is something bad. Think about it, “blacking out”. That doesn’t seem fun. “Blacking out” is when you have had way too much and end up with a stomach pumping or explaining an alias you gave the cops you didn’t know you had. No, “Time Traveling” is fun, “Blacking Out” is not. So have fun T or V bagging Einstein on the way through the space time continuum.

I’m finally recovered from the holiday weekend. I love holidays. There are lots of reasons. I could get into all the reasons I love holidays, but even the massive and beautiful interwebs doesn’t have that much room. I will shorten my reasons to these:

#1. Celebrations always rock. Exceptions include anytime I am injured or am forced to do things I wouldn’t want to do had I not been under duress. Also celebrations that do not include drinking are not celebrations so every birthday I had before I was 12 was just an excuse for me to get presents.

#2. I’m not working, but somehow still getting paid. This is the best case scenario. I am constantly trying to figure out ways to make this permanent without getting fired. The techniques learned in Fight Club and American Beauty have so far not worked.

#3. The holidays actually mean something important…. or at least we think they do. I like the ones that have come about more recently because I can be reasonably sure the event I’m celebrating actually happened on this day in history, not something that if it weren’t for the fact that millions of people believe it, would garner ridicule from rational people. Actually, it still might.

#4. Social drinking. This should have been number one, but I was doing number 4 while trying to think of another reason and it may have been too in my face (or inside my face!) for me to even realize this is a reason I love the holidays. I mean I love drinking socially all the time, but there are people I only get to drink socially with during the holidays. Rest of the year they live away.

#5. You can eat as much food as you can and it can be as bad for you as possible, and there is no judgement. No one wants to be that asshole trying to call people out while their mouths are filled with food that make fat people have to wash their sheets in the morning from the orgasm in their dreams.

So there you have it. Some of the reasons I love the holidays. They aren’t just an excuse to party, but they are an excuse to party. I guess this isn’t the most sophisticated list, but then neither are “that’s what she said” jokes. But man they are funny.

In this look at annoying people at the bar, I want to point out someone who is usually heard well before he or she is seen. Outwardly, their appearance doesn’t usually give you a clue. Nothing in the way they act initially will give this person away. This person is usually male, but can just as easily be female (yum). So what is it about this person, and what is he or she called?

This person is The Cackler. I’m sure it’s not their fault, I mean when I laugh, I just laugh. I don’t have much control over how it sounds. That doesn’t change my hate for them, or the fact that I feel as soon as it was discovered that they laugh like this, the problem should be nipped in the bud. Like the Spartans, they should be left for dead, kept in a room by themselves, or had their ability to speak removed.

It’s not just the way they sound. That annoying, screeching high pitched staccato filth that can make you stop your conversation dead in it’s tracks. It’s also that they are SO GOD DAMN LOUD!!! The worst part, whoever they are talking to, just pretends that it isn’t happening! I’m like, “Really?!”. I try and put it out of my mind, but man, it’s just so loud and overpowering.

Depending on the size or your balls (figuratively of course), there are several things you can do about it. If you have huge balls, you walk up to the person, punch them right in their fat ugly faces and shout “SHUT THE FUCK UP!!!!” right in their faces as you stand over them. If your balls are a little smaller, you walk over and tell the person, “Your laugh; it’s really loud and annoying. If something is so funny you have to laugh like that, tell the rest of the bar so hopefully your laugh is masked. I doubt it will be that funny, so how about you just actually just don’t open your mouth.” The next level of ballsiness is in fact much less ballsy. This involves glaring over at the offender and giving them the stink eye every time you hear it.

Now I realize that noise at a bar is normal. But this is over the top. Nevertheless, I opt for the least ballsy of the prevention methods… which doesn’t prevent much at all actually (It also has nothing to do with my actual ball size. Seriously, all man. I can provide references). I know I’m not crazy when I hear it because I see other people who use my exact method of prevention. Unfortunately the result is almost always the same. I swear it’s been close to a “grab your torches and pitchforks” scenario where everyone almost collectively worked together to shut some one up. I was almost proud of humanity that day. I almost thought there could be peace in this world. But then the guy cackled again and nothing happened. Oh well.

Let’s preface this by saying that ice beer may not be the classiest thing that’s ever been down my throat, but it sure as fuck isn’t the worst. Whoa… that maybe didn’t come out right. Ladies, trust me, I love your silky love tunnels. Do not fear.

I think there is a time and a place for ice beer. I feel like the best time for ice beer is a little thing I like to call, daytime delicious. Thats when you drink between the hours of 11 AM and 4 PM during the day. Preferably a day you are off work, but hey, you told them HR about your habits when they hired you, right?

Supposedly ice beers are brewed “extra cold”. Uh, whatever. The real way they do it is lower the temperature of beer to just below the freezing point of water, but above the freezing point of alcohol. Then they skim off the top taking water out and concentrating the flavor and alcohol content.

Both of those factors constitute a “win” for me or as the l33t say, “FTW”. More beer flavor…. and more alcohol? And it’s cheap???!!!!1! It just seems like an overall good idea. I like beer. I like the flavor. I might even savor the flavor (I’m a cunning linguist and a master debater). I also like alcohol. Now it isn’t the main reason I drink. But it sure can be fun, especially in the middle of the day, or early afternoon, where you don’t really have anything you have to do.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m a beer connoisseur. But I’m also not wealthy. Like seriously not wealthy. Not yet anyway. I need to get some advertising on this bitch, but I digress… I’m lucky that I like a lot of different beers. Since I think several ice beers are tasty, and they are cheap, it makes me happy and I don’t care what some snobby, toilet lid, beer snob thinks about it.

So don’t be afraid of ice beer. Now you can’t drink as much ice beer as regular beer and be as crisp. Every 5 ice beers is like an extra beer so keep that in mind. But if your like me, drink what makes sense to your taste buds and wallet.

So I thought I would start a new little series. People at the bar that annoy the piss out of me… which is just what I need when I’m at the bar, another reason to pee. No seriously… after like 12 beers, I already pee a lot. I need no help. Maybe opening up will help me not be so annoyed. More than likely however, I’ll just point it out more. The things I do for you. Boo.

So for this first volume, I want to talk about the guy (and it’s almost always a guy) who is such a regular, he does shit at the bar you should do at home. It’s the regular that is too regular. You know you’ve seen him. He isn’t just at my bars! OK, you might not recognize this person right away. I mean this person is a regular so the bartender says “Hi douche bag whatever his name is” to him, shakes his hand and asks whats been new, so you might pay him no mind. I mean SOMEONE at the bar has to like him to get away with this shit.

So what do they do to annoy me so much? How about reading a MFing book. For realz. Reading a book at a bar?!!1! Oh I’m sorry, are the rest of us soooooo boring you would rather read a book? Why did you come out to the bar? You can drink and read at home! Do you read better with distractions and funny looks?

Now if you’re sitting outside in the middle of the day doing some daytime drinking, then it’s acceptable to chill out with something to read. But, sit at a table. Not at the bar. This is a sacred space reserved for real drinkers. People like me might have to stand and drink because these people are using their not-so-svelte (I used this word, svelte, in an effort to make this blog more politically correct. Ah thank ya.) keeping perfectly good bar stools warm. And I HAIGHT a warm seat that wasn’t warmed by me or some hot chick. Just makes me feel gross. Heebie Jeebie’s.