metal

yeah i'm not very metal. i'm so excited about the jenny lewis album i've listened to it like eight times today. i think the dudes in the band are gonna murdalize me if i don't go see in flames on saturday, but guess what? i don't really like in flames. i'm more pumped for the stars show next week.

mahtul brah.

Rules for drinking at my bar

Here are just two...I think this may be an ongoing series of posts.

1. If it's 20 degrees outside and almost midnight, don't fucking order a margarita. This isn't Key West, you don't kick ass, and you look like a fucking fool. Same goes for drinking bloody marys after 5pm. Drink these drinks at appropriate times. Margaritas? Not after sundown (I will allow the Rio to be the exception to this rule). Bloodys? Never after happy hour (unless you are SUPER hurting). That's my piece about that.

2. Just because you heard a friend of mine call me by name, doesn't mean you get to yell 'Matty!' when you need a drink. It's rude. If we don't know each other, cool, I have no problem introducing myself (and then you can join in that amazing sing song chorus of 'Matty Matty!' that takes place every night) but until then, don't call me anything at all.

Am I being snotty? Fuck yeah! Sitting at my bar rules, I am very generous and amiable, I give out a million cigarettes and shots. So just be cool and stick to the rules.

Am I being conceited? Fuck yeah!

Wasted life

So after marathon drinking from Saturday at about 7pm to Sunday at 7PM (with a six hour break for sleep), I slept for 15 hours. And in no way is that pathetic. I feel like the biggest piece of shit ever. There is no point to my days, except for filling in the time between sleep and booze. I guess that's not actually true, at all. Like, not even a little bit. But fuck it.