It was either David Sedaris or Daniel Drennan who wrote that they couldn’t stand when people talked about how stressed out they were, because a) everyone is and b) if you’re really so stressed out, then how do you have the time to talk about how stressed out you are? I agree completely with either Sedaris or Drennan (still unsure, because both Googling and walking over to my own bookshelves is not happening right now), by the way. To me, being stressed out is not a mood or a temporary thing or a way to get attention. It’s a state of being. I’m an adult, stressed is what I am. Even when I’m sitting around in pajamas at 4pm and watching The Saint for the sixtieth time on the actionMAX! channel, there are things happening in my brain that stress me out. I have to get my taxes done. I really hope something can be extracted from my old laptop because if not that’s a ton of lost music and words. How am I ever supposed to get a job in Seattle when I don’t even live there yet? Deadlines, bills, the leak in the basement, all of these things are up there all the time. They don’t ever go away. Which, again, that’s fine. I’m an adult, it’s to be expected. And while sometimes it can feel good to vent, talking at someone about your to-do list – and for the people who do this, that list always seems to include something ridiculously unnecessary like going sandal shopping or getting their nails done – is fucking boring.
So without running you through my to-do list and with the understanding that we are all stressed all of the time, you guys, this week? Has been exhausting. Just one big mindfuck after another, and not once have I gotten drunk. This is a situation I plan on remedying tonight when I have Vern, Christy, and Stephanie over for a drunkblog of Top Gun. Angelica should have come over because she’s never seen Top Gun, but she’s doing her drinking in Vegas for someone’s wedding. Top Gun is perfect for a drunkblog. It was Vern who suggested it, but even if she hadn’t, drunkblogging a movie would still have been in order (previous discussions between Stephanie and I have included The Crush and Troll 2 and also possibly Lifetime movies such as Mother, May I Sleep With Danger? and Friends ‘Til the End; these are coming off the mega-success of our Fear drunkblog, which is, no bullshit, the apex predator of drunkblogs).
It’s occurred to me that some people might not understand what I mean when I reference drunkblogging. What is drunkblogging, you ask? Well, to start, it’s magnificent. Basically, it’s when you get drunk, watch a movie, and blog about it. Ideally, drunkblogging involves more than just yourself, which is fun at first but can turn lonely and confusing very quickly (ie, the time I killed a bottle of wine and Tweeted about “The Happy Hooker Goes Hollywood”). It’s also best when the drunkblogging involves a dialogue, because not only is there another person there to make you feel like you’re socializing, but you also get to feel way funnier because everyone is drunk and laughing (as opposed to you laughing at yourself, because like I said, lonely and confusing).
I find it much easier to have people over now that I live in a house that’s not in the ghetto and is clean most of the time. The clean thing only bothered me when people I didn’t know very well came over, but the ghetto thing was a problem. One night, Christy’s car was broken into while she was at my house. Another night, Stephanie watched someone back into her car and attempt to drive away. Add that to the occasional sounds of gunshots, police helicopters, and trashy neighbors who had fistfights in the middle of the street for fun, and this new house is a much better location for drunkblogging.
(Seriously, read the Fear drunkblog. Everything — including the above 4-EVA — will make more sense.)
GURL CALM DOWN.
Did someone back into my car? Was I that drunk? Unless you know another Stephanie which HOW DARE YOU. I just remember the guy trying to parallel park behind me with 2 inches of space, and you and I screaming in horror the entire time. I still can’t believe he made it!
He didn’t hit your car? Maybe I was drunk enough to think that he did.
And you cannot even tell me to calm down, Vern is FREAKING OUT.