Posted By Errl
This branches off from something that started the other night. Arnie, Robin, Kelly and me go to Ann Arbor to get something to eat we wound up going from place to place to find just the right place, all the while, Arnie's in one of his moody, something's-wrong-but-I-won't-tell-you-what's-wrong moods. So I ignore him and just act like everything's hunkydory. I talk to him like he's not shitting in everyone's cerial and for a bit there it seems to work out and everyone seems to have a good time. We go to a decent Irish place and I watch the UofM/BGSU hockey game going on just blocks away while drinking locally brewed beer, which was smooth and rich and wonderful. We ate fries and everyone but Arnie was acting like nothing's amiss. We get on home and we're all just "what the fuck?" It could have been me when I told a guy in the street collecting money for a women's shelter in Ghana to fuck off and die in Ghana-- but he was still pissed even before that, so... might have been the things I did that added up in him to make him angry.
Last night, Kelly picks up Robin and me to go to Eddie's house (whose a friend of her's, he's a good guy) to drink into my birthday. As we drive up to the liquor store, she tells me Arnie was mad at me for drinking, which didn't make that much sense; he was pissed before we even settled on a place to go. So we get something to drink and we go and we're all having a great time. We do shots of Crown Royal and have a blast watching CKY. When I was still only kinda buzzed, Arnie calls to wish me a happy birthday. I couldnt tell it was him for whatever reason. You talk to a guy on the phone for three or four years, you think you'd recognize his voice, but nope. I thought it was one of Kelly's friends who caught wind of it being someone's birthday and insisting on wishing whose ever birthday it is a good one. So I get the phone and act all rude. I find out its Arnie and the booze starts talking. I get all rude and outta line and he hangs up on me, which is good, he should've to kinda make me snap a little. It didn't work. At the moment, I was pretty sauced up and the only message I was getting was Raab Himself shits on things.
I hand the phone back to Kelly, and Eddie and I go out in to the Hall to shoot the lights with pellet guns, which were surprising accurate... both the guns and us were pretty good at shooting for having taken in three beers and three shots each. We then went back inside and, with Scooter and Kelly, took pictures without our shirts on; each body had a word on it. Eddie's had "Fuck". Scooter had "You". Kelly had "Me". I had "Good" We arranged ourselves to read "You fuck me good." I wore my ECW hat and shades. I dunno why. We order Pizza about two and shortly after eating a few pieces; I laid myself out on the couch to let my body catch up with my booze. By that point, I'd taken in about six triple blacks and about five or so shots of crown royal, although I'm anything but certain about that, I lost count. We went back to Kelly's to crash out on her hide-a-bed. It was nice and comfy and we slept pretty heavy. It was, after all, four AM.
This morning, Kelly tells me I really pissed off Arnie. I knew I had, but it was odd, for someone who takes such pleasure in not only being called an asshole, but calls himself one, he's awfully sensitive. I've known Arnie for a long time, this is unlike him. Usually, he's all whatever about some shit gettin' talked, because he can talk it right back and usually will do just that. Since when is me acting up such a big deal to him? It never was before. It's kind of the basis of our relationship: since the world won't tolerate being targeted by guys like us, we're targets for each other. It gets aggression out and makes us better people-- it's how we've operated since day one. Its our unofficial, undiscussed and unwritten Law. It's our system; it's never failed us--until recently. What's different all of a sudden? I've been drinking for two years now, it's not even that interesting to me any more, it's like the circus or something, when you're 4, it's exciting, when you're 6, it's lame. When I was 21, drinking was new to me. Now I'm 23, it's just a social thing, I guess. Only on special nights, like football, parties or dinner out, will I have a drink.
And every night I have a few, I've always been able to count on Arnie to get me home safe and make sure I don't drown on vomit or something. Hell, when I turned 21, he kept any eye on me and made sure I took an aspirin at just the right time and gave me lots of water to avoid a hangover. He still loves telling the stories from that night. It's never been a big deal and now it is. It bugs him a lot. We've cut the situation apart like it was a frog in a seventh grade science class, looked at it from every angle like it was junior year astronomy class checking out Andromeda or a Literature class reading Catcher in the Rye. We've sympathized with Arnie, and then looked at it from my point of view. Is he being unreasonable for getting upset at something that's old news or am I being a dick for drinking even though it bugs him? Is he asking too much for asking me to stop drinking, or is to too much to expect for him to roll with the punches like always?
Here's the thing, if it means making my best friend happy for me to not drink, fuckin' I'll do it in a second. Friends mean more to me than getting trashed. Arnie's cool as hell and it'd be impressively wasteful to exchange him and his feelings for beer. If it means he and I stay friends, I'll stop drinking.
Give and take.
Compromise.
Apologize.
Friends?
This branches off from something that started the other night. Arnie, Robin, Kelly and me go to Ann Arbor to get something to eat we wound up going from place to place to find just the right place, all the while, Arnie's in one of his moody, something's-wrong-but-I-won't-tell-you-what's-wrong moods. So I ignore him and just act like everything's hunkydory. I talk to him like he's not shitting in everyone's cerial and for a bit there it seems to work out and everyone seems to have a good time. We go to a decent Irish place and I watch the UofM/BGSU hockey game going on just blocks away while drinking locally brewed beer, which was smooth and rich and wonderful. We ate fries and everyone but Arnie was acting like nothing's amiss. We get on home and we're all just "what the fuck?" It could have been me when I told a guy in the street collecting money for a women's shelter in Ghana to fuck off and die in Ghana-- but he was still pissed even before that, so... might have been the things I did that added up in him to make him angry.
Last night, Kelly picks up Robin and me to go to Eddie's house (whose a friend of her's, he's a good guy) to drink into my birthday. As we drive up to the liquor store, she tells me Arnie was mad at me for drinking, which didn't make that much sense; he was pissed before we even settled on a place to go. So we get something to drink and we go and we're all having a great time. We do shots of Crown Royal and have a blast watching CKY. When I was still only kinda buzzed, Arnie calls to wish me a happy birthday. I couldnt tell it was him for whatever reason. You talk to a guy on the phone for three or four years, you think you'd recognize his voice, but nope. I thought it was one of Kelly's friends who caught wind of it being someone's birthday and insisting on wishing whose ever birthday it is a good one. So I get the phone and act all rude. I find out its Arnie and the booze starts talking. I get all rude and outta line and he hangs up on me, which is good, he should've to kinda make me snap a little. It didn't work. At the moment, I was pretty sauced up and the only message I was getting was Raab Himself shits on things.
I hand the phone back to Kelly, and Eddie and I go out in to the Hall to shoot the lights with pellet guns, which were surprising accurate... both the guns and us were pretty good at shooting for having taken in three beers and three shots each. We then went back inside and, with Scooter and Kelly, took pictures without our shirts on; each body had a word on it. Eddie's had "Fuck". Scooter had "You". Kelly had "Me". I had "Good" We arranged ourselves to read "You fuck me good." I wore my ECW hat and shades. I dunno why. We order Pizza about two and shortly after eating a few pieces; I laid myself out on the couch to let my body catch up with my booze. By that point, I'd taken in about six triple blacks and about five or so shots of crown royal, although I'm anything but certain about that, I lost count. We went back to Kelly's to crash out on her hide-a-bed. It was nice and comfy and we slept pretty heavy. It was, after all, four AM.
This morning, Kelly tells me I really pissed off Arnie. I knew I had, but it was odd, for someone who takes such pleasure in not only being called an asshole, but calls himself one, he's awfully sensitive. I've known Arnie for a long time, this is unlike him. Usually, he's all whatever about some shit gettin' talked, because he can talk it right back and usually will do just that. Since when is me acting up such a big deal to him? It never was before. It's kind of the basis of our relationship: since the world won't tolerate being targeted by guys like us, we're targets for each other. It gets aggression out and makes us better people-- it's how we've operated since day one. Its our unofficial, undiscussed and unwritten Law. It's our system; it's never failed us--until recently. What's different all of a sudden? I've been drinking for two years now, it's not even that interesting to me any more, it's like the circus or something, when you're 4, it's exciting, when you're 6, it's lame. When I was 21, drinking was new to me. Now I'm 23, it's just a social thing, I guess. Only on special nights, like football, parties or dinner out, will I have a drink.
And every night I have a few, I've always been able to count on Arnie to get me home safe and make sure I don't drown on vomit or something. Hell, when I turned 21, he kept any eye on me and made sure I took an aspirin at just the right time and gave me lots of water to avoid a hangover. He still loves telling the stories from that night. It's never been a big deal and now it is. It bugs him a lot. We've cut the situation apart like it was a frog in a seventh grade science class, looked at it from every angle like it was junior year astronomy class checking out Andromeda or a Literature class reading Catcher in the Rye. We've sympathized with Arnie, and then looked at it from my point of view. Is he being unreasonable for getting upset at something that's old news or am I being a dick for drinking even though it bugs him? Is he asking too much for asking me to stop drinking, or is to too much to expect for him to roll with the punches like always?
Here's the thing, if it means making my best friend happy for me to not drink, fuckin' I'll do it in a second. Friends mean more to me than getting trashed. Arnie's cool as hell and it'd be impressively wasteful to exchange him and his feelings for beer. If it means he and I stay friends, I'll stop drinking.
Give and take.
Compromise.
Apologize.
Friends?
Who knows
ECW hat you rule!
And drink away just don't get caught!