I know the big stories of this summer are supposed to be the upcoming Olympics in Beijing, or "The Dark Knight", or...nothing else at all (been pretty lame so far, right? ), but I'd like to take this moment to point out the breakout star of Summer 2008 so far: Bud Light Lime. I went to a bar last week, and was refreshed (literally) to find that I'm no longer the only loser drinking the beer with the clear bottle, smooth taste, and lime green "BL" on the label. I've noticed more and more of us (guys, especially) trying it, taking a liking to it, and giving each other the chin-out "It's-not-so-bad" seal of approval. I've also noticed that it's $6 a bottle at certain shore bars, as opposed to 4 bucks for a regular Bud Light (really, two bucks for the lime?? or for the peace of mind that your lime is artificial and in the drink already and therefore wasn't handled by a sweaty bartender?). I also noticed a few beers in that I was drinking Bud Light Lime in those scary aluminum bottles, which is another development in beer-manufacturing I don't understand. And yes, I just said "scary" - because even though the glass ones are more likely to break, don't the aluminum ones just FEEL way more dangerous? Like it could be used as a lethal weapon if a bunch of shore meatheads got restless and started a brawl with each other over how awesome tanning and/or dancing? Hypothetically.
But that was last weekend, and this weekend was good. I did a spot at a club in the city early Saturday, and then went to meet up with one of my friends to hit some bars. First, we hung around his place for a couple hours and watched "Semi-Pro" on his Blu-Ray DVD player, and I have a few thoughts about that:
1) All hype aside, Blu-Ray screens are amazing.
2) I've now seen more of Will Ferrell's anatomy than that of most girls I've dated.
3) Who the hell buys "Semi-Pro"??
I also love how watching any Will Ferrell movie has become like the International Guy Appetizer before going out. We sit around and drink beers and bond while watching increasingly-average movies of his on expensive technology (Blu-Ray? Why didn't we just go see "Step Brothers" on IMAX?), and no guy is ever like, "Come on, guys, this movie is so stupid. Just turn it off." I even bet skinny-jean hipster dudes would secretly keep "Anchorman" on, and just tell their girlfriends they were watching "Stranger Than Fiction".
Wait, but why was out having "Guys Night Out"? That's because my girlfriend was down in Atlantic City having wild and wacky "Girls Night Out". You've heard of that, right? That's where a bunch of mostly married (or in relationships) women get a room at the Borgata and hit the clubs there, where they drink and dance in a circle and bond over barely-tolerable house music. Meanwhile in NYC, I order rounds of Bud Light Limes and marvel at how young everybody got in the 7 months since I've been out of the single bar scene. We went to one of the bars to meet up with some hot young intern my friend is talking to - yes, an INTERN. The last time I was an intern, Clinton was in office. (Side note: I'm not a moron, and I obviously see the opportunity for a Clinton/intern joke here - I'm deciding to pass on it). Anyway, my point is that I thought I was well past the age where I'd ever have to ask a girl, "So what's your major?" Apparently not.
I hope I don't sound old and salty and grumpy, because I'm not. I actually had a lot of fun out Saturday night, and I'm sure my girl had a fun time in AC too. But my favorite part of the whole "Girls Night Out/Guys Night Out", is that even though we're not one of those couples who needs to be up each other's butts all the time, we still ended up doing that corny thing where we spent a decent part of the end of the night texting each other to say hi - where we're really just checking in to assure each other that we're not too wasted and/or doing anything inappropriate. You know, where texts "hey- having fun, this place is alright, gettin tired tho" really means, "Everybody here is young and attractive, but I still like you better." I think we may have texted each other "wish you were here" and "wish you were here too" at one point, which I know is beyond-corny, and doesn't make much sense. We'd actually be switching places in that scenario, and that's no fun because we still wouldn't see each other, my girlfriend would have to listen to my guy friends quote Will Ferrell, and I'd be somewhere by myself in AC because I'm pretty sure I've been kicked out the Borgata before. Basically, "Guys/Girls Night Out" is kinda like being away at separate sleepaway camps, except when you wake up the next morning, you're not thirteen. Thank God.
Speaking of age, I'm turning 30 in a month, so look for these blogs to get progressively more lame. Look for next one soon, about how I recently joined a book club. Yes. Ugh.
Sorry for the cliffhanger, but this summer's all hyping the sequels. Thanks for reading.
Monday, July 28, 2008
Sunday, July 6, 2008
Viva La Nadal
I just spent the majority of my Sunday watching Nadal beat Federer in the longest Wimbledon final ever - and probably the best tennis match I've ever seen. They played for almost five hours, beat the hell out of each other, and finally ended when it was around 9:30 at night in England. Meanwhile in New Jersey, I spent almost as much time digesting a queso burrito I got from Qdoba, and spooned with my girlfriend on the couch while I watched two dudes who are younger than me run all day on a grass court. It's days like this when I feel slightly unmotivated.
I also decided after today that my dream side job (right behind "pro basketball shooting guard") is to be a ball boy at Wimbledon or the US Open (not the French - I'd bust my ass on that clay surface and end up on YouTube). It would be tiring as hell, but worth it. You get better seats than all of the rich snobs who paid top dollar - and a TV credit finally ("You've seen this next comic chasing balls for Andy Roddick..."). I can't guarantee that I'd be any good at it, but I was a pretty damn good ball boy for the beer pong games at the barbecue we went to yesterday afternoon - and barehanding a bouncing ping pong ball after you've had a bunch of Miller Chills isn't as easy as it sounds.
By the way, what's the official age where you're supposed to not play beer pong anymore? Is there one? Is it thirty? I think I read that in Esquire once, but then about five minutes later I remember thinking to myself, "What the hell am I doing reading Esquire??" Seriously though, I feel like the Beer Pong Retirement Age keeps rising. We used to play all the time in college, but I never once thought, "This is so much fun, I hope I'm still doing it in ten years." Yet there we were yesterday, friends from college, most of us thirty or older, at the house of my friend and his pregnant wife, tossing wet ping pong balls at barely-filled plastic cups in a sweaty garage. It was like 1998 all over again - just without Dave Matthews on repeat in the background anymore, thankfully. Granted, it's not like we play beer pong often at all these days - maybe once every season, or on special occasions where it's appropriate, like celebrating our forefathers' independence - but I do wonder at what age one of my friends is going to sloppily line up cups in a loose triangle, and nobody's going to follow. Probably somewhere around the age of "we have kids now".
Speaking of maturing slowly, I should note that the "In a Relationship" status on my MySpace page is not the work of a hacker - I do have a girlfriend. It's been about 6 months now - which, pathetically, is pretty much a record for me. Actually, I take that back - 6 months is a long time, especially when those 6 months are the entirety of the Democratic primary season. Yes, we dated through all of that. I am proud of it, though - and I think since we came out of it intact, it will only make us a stronger couple in the Fall. (Don't worry, I don't have any "Pat/Melissa '08" bumper stickers made up. Yet.)
Actually, one of the biggest tests of our relationship so far was two weekends ago, when I dragged her to the First Annual Breslin Family Reunion '08, out in Blue Bell, PA. It was for my Irish side, which is huge (there were over 100 people there - cousins, their kids, people I'm supposedly related to, strangers claiming to be cousins of mine, etc.). It was a great time, but a little stressful beforehand. See, my girlfriend and I have been told more than a few times that we look alike facially, and could pass for brother and sister. Which is nice and cute and funny and all when people say it, but a little awkward too. And also a little scary when you're also both also Italian and Irish, and on the way to a family reunion of mine where she's really hoping she doesn't run into any relatives of her own. That would have been unfortunate. Although we both agreed that if it happened, we'd just pretend that it didn't, and continue to date and have sex with each other. It's only right.
Anyway, that didn't happen, so as far as I know I'm luckily not related to my girlfriend. We did, however, meet on Match.com - which apparently is still just as weird and creepy to some people. I know, people meet on Match all the time these days - that's true. But I guess they don't freely admit it as much as we do. It's not like we're promoting for the site or anything, or wearing Match t-shirts (I know, we totally should), but I suck at lying so when people ask how we met, I tell them. (She winked at me, so I emailed back.) I have no shame, so I have no problem telling people. But whenever I tell anybody we met on Match, they always give the same lame reaction, like I just told them I'm going to be a male cheerleader or something ("You know, that's not as weird these days anymore...people do that now..."). So I think from now on when people ask, I'm just going to make it sound even more weird and creepy: "You know how you can take a picture of your face and go to a website, and it tells you what celebrities you look most like? Well you can do that with non-celebrities now too. They told me I looked 94% like Melissa, so I had to track her down. That's how we met." Once that gets out, I think people will stop asking.
Okay, that's all for now.
I also decided after today that my dream side job (right behind "pro basketball shooting guard") is to be a ball boy at Wimbledon or the US Open (not the French - I'd bust my ass on that clay surface and end up on YouTube). It would be tiring as hell, but worth it. You get better seats than all of the rich snobs who paid top dollar - and a TV credit finally ("You've seen this next comic chasing balls for Andy Roddick..."). I can't guarantee that I'd be any good at it, but I was a pretty damn good ball boy for the beer pong games at the barbecue we went to yesterday afternoon - and barehanding a bouncing ping pong ball after you've had a bunch of Miller Chills isn't as easy as it sounds.
By the way, what's the official age where you're supposed to not play beer pong anymore? Is there one? Is it thirty? I think I read that in Esquire once, but then about five minutes later I remember thinking to myself, "What the hell am I doing reading Esquire??" Seriously though, I feel like the Beer Pong Retirement Age keeps rising. We used to play all the time in college, but I never once thought, "This is so much fun, I hope I'm still doing it in ten years." Yet there we were yesterday, friends from college, most of us thirty or older, at the house of my friend and his pregnant wife, tossing wet ping pong balls at barely-filled plastic cups in a sweaty garage. It was like 1998 all over again - just without Dave Matthews on repeat in the background anymore, thankfully. Granted, it's not like we play beer pong often at all these days - maybe once every season, or on special occasions where it's appropriate, like celebrating our forefathers' independence - but I do wonder at what age one of my friends is going to sloppily line up cups in a loose triangle, and nobody's going to follow. Probably somewhere around the age of "we have kids now".
Speaking of maturing slowly, I should note that the "In a Relationship" status on my MySpace page is not the work of a hacker - I do have a girlfriend. It's been about 6 months now - which, pathetically, is pretty much a record for me. Actually, I take that back - 6 months is a long time, especially when those 6 months are the entirety of the Democratic primary season. Yes, we dated through all of that. I am proud of it, though - and I think since we came out of it intact, it will only make us a stronger couple in the Fall. (Don't worry, I don't have any "Pat/Melissa '08" bumper stickers made up. Yet.)
Actually, one of the biggest tests of our relationship so far was two weekends ago, when I dragged her to the First Annual Breslin Family Reunion '08, out in Blue Bell, PA. It was for my Irish side, which is huge (there were over 100 people there - cousins, their kids, people I'm supposedly related to, strangers claiming to be cousins of mine, etc.). It was a great time, but a little stressful beforehand. See, my girlfriend and I have been told more than a few times that we look alike facially, and could pass for brother and sister. Which is nice and cute and funny and all when people say it, but a little awkward too. And also a little scary when you're also both also Italian and Irish, and on the way to a family reunion of mine where she's really hoping she doesn't run into any relatives of her own. That would have been unfortunate. Although we both agreed that if it happened, we'd just pretend that it didn't, and continue to date and have sex with each other. It's only right.
Anyway, that didn't happen, so as far as I know I'm luckily not related to my girlfriend. We did, however, meet on Match.com - which apparently is still just as weird and creepy to some people. I know, people meet on Match all the time these days - that's true. But I guess they don't freely admit it as much as we do. It's not like we're promoting for the site or anything, or wearing Match t-shirts (I know, we totally should), but I suck at lying so when people ask how we met, I tell them. (She winked at me, so I emailed back.) I have no shame, so I have no problem telling people. But whenever I tell anybody we met on Match, they always give the same lame reaction, like I just told them I'm going to be a male cheerleader or something ("You know, that's not as weird these days anymore...people do that now..."). So I think from now on when people ask, I'm just going to make it sound even more weird and creepy: "You know how you can take a picture of your face and go to a website, and it tells you what celebrities you look most like? Well you can do that with non-celebrities now too. They told me I looked 94% like Melissa, so I had to track her down. That's how we met." Once that gets out, I think people will stop asking.
Okay, that's all for now.
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