Friday, June 22, 2012

My Drunk Blog: Carly Rae

Who needs to grapple with writer's block when this gem was festering in my unpublished folder?  Indeed, time and time again I stumble upon one of these hidden away from nights where I got home and decided the most sensible activity to spend my intoxicated time on is blogger; at least I have the sensibility to not publish when I finish writing, otherwise - you'd miss out on this very sober preface.  This post is from Saturday night written at around 3am because I suppose that's when I got home.  For a summer where I've not gone out to bars, Saturday was fairly successful - not one but three whole stops throughout the day interspersed with bands down at Sound of Music, especially Carly Rae Jepsen.  Such a prolonged day of drinking then leads to 1. a weeping wallet (I have since checked how much I spent and jesus christ) and 2. a very drunk Matt.  Oh, and 3. this fantastic piece of craftsmanship.

Do you know how much money I spent today?  I don't even know, but I remember to double space after every period because that's what my momma taught me.  No, there's literally five dollars in my wallet right now, and considering I withdrew money from atms three whole times today, this is a bad sight.  I'm afraid to check the balance in my bank account, so that will be for tomorrow.

Consdering Im front Burlington the Sound of Music festival is essentially the greatest joy in my meager life.  On Thursday night I saw the Arkells play who were really great, but I saw a girl with a leg brace crowd surf which was even better, and she had a pretty hard fall so I hope she isn't crippled for life, that'd suck but it'd kinda be funny.  Then i went to the Poacher and I got drunk.  On Friday I went down to the lake with no band in mind and then there was these old men playing on the main stage so we left and went to the Poacher again and I got drunk again, but more than the night before, and then I walked home which absofuckinglutely sucked.  I wanted death the entire way.  An hour nd a half walking if you were wondering.  Also when I was walking up my street a car came up onto the sidewalk and started chasing me, and I shit you not.  It chased me up my street until I ran across the street in panic and then a taxi came in the opposite direction so the chasing car couldn't follow me into my house.  Seriously, I can't make this story up.  I was also holding beer and an ipod speaker so I probably looked hotter than I usually do every day just like I am now, seriously.

Today I met my wife, Carly Rae Jepsen, only she didn't meet me.  Hidden away in the beer tent my three friends and I waited pateintly for this goddamn girl to take the stage, and when she did, eight count em eight girls stood up on a collapsible plastic table to see better.  They blocked my view entirely but my satisfaction came in knowing the table buckled like hell, and gods I wish that table collapsed and I wish I witnessed a pile of girls happen on the ground screeching in pain.  After a while the security made them get down and I was able to then fully see my lovely Carly Rae who I must say 1. is one year older than Lady Gaga which is fucking weird cause you'd think Gaga would be much much more mature given that she's a crazy hussy and 2. she was acting fucking stoned as shit.  "I'm gonna sing about angels now!" she said and then I was probs uninterested but the song didn't have to do with angels you idiot.  She sang this song about a guitar string wedding ring which was sickeningly adorbs and Carly, I don't play guitar so I can't give you said wedding ring, so I'll give you a ring made up of my luscious curls.  Call Me Maybe was off the hook.  Then, we went to a restaraunt where my friend serves at, and I drank a beer and fish.  Then we saw some other band and bounced off to another restaraunt where I ate another damn entree and drank three more damn beers.  From there my friend and I went on to another friend's birthday where I drank I don't know, enough to make me not know how I got home right now considering I don't know how the hell I got home.  Drinks galore, I" got drunk, the birthday girl was cut off after an hour and a half or so, and I was proud.  I kept drinking and apparently spent a hundred dollars, then I somehow got home some way, and here I am.  It's like 3am and I probably don't have a liver no mo.

I haven't had much fun this summer but it's cool because then days like thishappen where I drink a fuck ton and I'm like, true.  I should be barred from writing while drunk, but I tried writing a few essays drunk this year at school and no word of a lie I didn't proof read them and I still got 80s.  Holla, I'm a drunk genius, you bitty.  I like the word bitty, and now I'm listening to Metric who I also like, a lot.  If you took a piece of guitar string, I would wear it like it's a wedding ring!  Angels.  I'm not really done to be honest.  Drinking, I mean.

Land of dreams, land of dreams, come and find your land of dreams, only America sucks and that commercial really does not make America look like America, I would've filmed fat people rolling in and out of a McDonald's location and that is the American Dream.  I hate how everything I experience while drunk is fast forwarded because.  Last time I wrote when I was drinking I thought there was a killer in my house and to be honest I'm not convinced there isn't one in my house currently, that's how paranoid and Criminal Minds I am.  My mom is afraid someone will use a univeral garage door opener like some dude killer on Criminal Minds and enter my house to kill us all while we sleeps so now I'm afraid and damnit I'm running up to my room right now with my computer.  Okay I'm back, I'm now in my room and I'm in bed with my computer, my one true girlfriend.  At least I'm safe from the Criminal Minds unsubs, but I'm not sure.  I could die.  If this is never published, I'm sorry.  There are eyelashes stuck in my eyes, good night.


  1. i think you believe you are attracted to these female "artists" (jepson barely qualifies) and refer to your attraction when writing about them in an attempt to defend your preference for "chick music". it's ok to be into shitty pop music. if you like it, own it. but no one's falling for the whole "marry me" thing.

  2. Well, fair enough. I'd say I own the fact that I really do listen to what you call "chick music" (I'd call into question the use of stereotype in this instance, but very well - I listen to a broad range of music and yes, some of it happens to be pop; whether or not it's "shitty," that's a matter of outlook), but in response to this quote "no one's falling for the whole 'marry me' thing" I'd like to say that it's not a "front" as you've alluded to it being; it's merely a joke. I wrote this while drunk. I joke about "marrying" people all the time, but it's a joke. Case and point, Carly Rae Jepsen: I'm not a fan, but my seemingly gushy response to her was (well, because I was drunk) because I was impressed with her live singing after seeing her just hours before. I'm not aiming to have anyone "fall" for anything, but cheers for your input.

  3. Touche. I have misjudged and taken you too seriously. My bad. You're a very talented writer and I find your work, although a little pretentious at times, witty and interesting. Cheers.