Off the bat, that title is inaccurate. I don’t hate everyone. I like my dogs. There are a few people on Twitter that make me laugh, and I tend to enjoy the company of the other writers for some reason. Other than that, most people can go jump in a lake. It stands to reason that as someone who rarely leaves the comfort of his house, that I don’t have to go out of my way to avoid social situations that don’t involve my dogs, or discussing topics for a quarterly magazine. When I do leave the gloomy chambers of my one bedroom apartment, it’s to walk down the street to my favorite bar and chat with the bartender, Karl (whom, come to think of it, I also quite like). Against my better judgment, and in a frenzied moment of needing to get out of my house, I accepted an invitation to a game night.Read More
I hate to be the person to break the news to you, but you’re getting old. If you’re like me, you’re well into your 30s, and you can’t drink like the young dum-dum you once were. Whether you’re double fisting tall boys all night, or day drinking rosé with your crew, you’re going to be suffering the next day. The easiest way to make sure you don’t have a hangover is to stop drinking, but we both know that’s not going to happen. So until you suddenly become responsible, or die from a liver explosion, here are the best ways to get rid of the pounding in your head and the rumbling in your stomach.Read More
I think I hit the wall last weekend. A friend was in town and we drank for three days straight. By three days I mean all day every day. And by the third day we were up till the sun rose walking like zombies through downtown LA fucked up and fucked. I got little sleep that night, waking up every 15 minutes like a lunatic. The next day was okay. I was tired and fuzzy. Not too bad. Little did I know the wall was still ahead of me. I was still coasting on fumes and hadn’t succumbed to the hangover yet. That night I got a perfect 8 hours. Like a fucking rock. Who knew what my body had in store for me?
I woke up in horror. My whole body ached. Ached like I had just run the mile 50 times with a rock in my shoe. Ached like I had been chewed up and spit out. My head hurt, I was dizzy and I was sweating hot and freezing cold. Was I sick? No, I was hung over and 30.Read More
A light afternoon mist poured over a massive manicured lawn. Groups of tables and chairs each with an enormous vase of flowers and two opened bottles of white and red wine were strewn everywhere. They were being attended to by hundreds of 20-30 somethings in white collared shirts. They were the catering. I was a fucking caterer.
It was good money though. I knew walking in I’d be leaving with over $100 and a huge free meal. What I didn’t know was that over the course of the night my friend would reveal a side of him I’d never known before.Read More
If enough people believe a "hangover" cannot be beaten, then that belief will sustain itself. I have squashed that belief. Squashed it with bacon and codeine. Provide them with the means, and they will test it, for it is an element of our lives that plagues us all. Please read forth.Read More