Here’s how fucking pathetic I am. I’m sitting at my computer with a dish of Trader Joe’s “Just Chicken,” a fork, and two bottles of beer. That’s my epic Tuesday night. I don’t even have enough money to go to the corner store and buy something to put on the chicken. I don’t even have a slice of cheese to melt. I’ve got cold chicken strips and beer. That’s my dinner tonight. Thanks, Louise! Your donation to this website has made this a truly wonderful experience that in no way reflects negatively on me or my ability to perform simple life tasks, like eating dinner, for example.

The cold, clammy chicken isn’t what I’m getting drunk on, of course. I’m getting drunk on beers. Chief among those beers is a bottle of Mikkeller Black Hole, a beer from Denmark! Louise, baby! You’re from Denmark too! Aren’t you proud of me for consuming one of your country’s exports? I feel like I’m doing wonders for international relations between our countries. This Mikkeller is amazing, by the way. It’s an Imperial Stout brewed with coffee. If the 13.1% ABV is any indication, I should be buzzed in no time. Naturally, my “Just Chicken” dinner and lack of any lunch should make the process of getting drunk quite easy. I’m going to eat some clammy chicken and drink this thing, then I’ll come back and tell you about my day.

***

This is about the worst meal I’ve ever had in my entire life. This is worse than the days before I had a job, when I was eating instant rice with meatless meatballs. No sauce. No nothing. Shit, right now I’d die for a plate of instant rice and meatless meatballs. Nothing on my dinner plate goes together. I tried heating up a piece of toast to go with the chicken and the beer, but there’s no flow to the meal. The beer is ridiculously malty and sweet, the chicken is cold and slimy, and the toast is burnt. I feel like an orphaned child forced to eat out of a dumpster. I’m my fork doesn’t know if it wants to be cold or warm. My stomach doesn’t know if it should accept what I’m feeding it or reject it. I just burped and it tasted like a garden. I don’t know what that means, but it can’t be a good sign. Maybe I should microwave the chicken to to the same temperature of the toast. But then I’d have to let the beer warm up a bit, right? So maybe it’s easier to let the toast cool down to the temperature of the beer and the chicken. See, this is why I need a woman in my life who can cook and prepare everything for me. I’m so baffled by the concept of food that when I don’t have a meal planned or a plate set in front of me I tense up and misfire. In my days working at the golf range, sometimes my dinner was a bag of cookies and a Sprite. Vending machines are way easier to understand and manipulate than supermarkets or grocery stores. I can look at a bag of chips and say, “Those go well with soda.” I can’t look at a container of “Just Chicken” and know what to do with it. Right now I’m starting to think that maybe I’ve got it backwards: Olive Garden isn’t so bad, eating cold chicken with a slice of toast and a mis-paired beer is so much worse. Fuck, this beer is too fucking sweet. Maybe if I take a sip when my mouth is filled with chicken, it will dilute the liquid and remove the sweetness from the taste.

Nope, now I’m afraid to swallow, because the taste in my mouth is so foul. I think I should just throw up and go to bed and call it a night.

***

This is already the worst night of my life and I’m half finished with my first beer. I think I just typed bear instead of beer. I left my glasses somewhere this morning and now I can’t see very well. Who knows how badly I fucked up at work today without being able to really see the computer screen a foot in front of my face. I found a little packet of barbecue sauce in a drawer. I don’t know where it came from or how long it had been there, but I spilled some of it onto the chicken. Barbecue and soy sauce tasting beer really don’t go well together. I feel like within an hour this will all be turning in my stomach and I will be clinging to my toilet as I voilently projectile vomit shredded chicken, toast and beer until my system is totally clean. This should be the new *it* Hollywood diet. I should market this concoction and call it a weight-loss technique. How would you like to drop a quick five pounds? Here, try this cold chicken, toast and beer combo! Not gross enough? Here’s a several-years-old packet of barbecue sauce I found in a random drawer. There’s a two-day-old bottle of soda in my car. It was only 104 degrees outside today, I’m sure that thing is pretty ripe about now. I should pour the remaining contents of the bottle into my pint glass. That should dilute the taste of the beer enough to make it more palatable.

I hate my life.

***

I can’t just play Farkle all night, can I? I’m so pathetic. I need new friends. I’ll tell you what — if anyone in the Los Angeles area responds to this post within an hour of my posting it with an invitation for me to go out to eat with them for free, I’ll do it. The beer is making me so nauseous I want to pour the last 1/4 of the glass down the drain, but since my dear Louise paid for it, I would hate to insult her like that. I bought a fucking Danish beer just because she’s Danish, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to do the equivalent of pissing on the flag of Denmark. I’m going to finish this drink, even if it kills me. I’m also going to look for something to do, because sitting here listening to depressing music all night is just going to make me feel worse.

***

My second beer of the evening is Nøgne Ø Imperial Stout, a Norwegian Imperial Stout. Norway is close to Denmark, right? Nøgne Ø — or as I like to call it the beer with two images of Saturn in it! — is the same brewery that churned out the Nøgne Ø Porter, the best fucking porter I’ve ever drank in my life. It’s 9% ABV, but I’ve put away the toast and the chicken so that can only improve my chances of getting drunk and having a better time by myself. Oh yes. Oh my god. This is a good fucking beer. I feel like it’s so thick and rich it’s going to leave a chocolate milk moustach on my ugly face! This is it! This is the one! A great fucking beer! I’m going to go pleasure myself with this for a few minutes and then I’ll come back and write a bit more. In the meantime, please enjoy this link Molly just IMed me.

***

How can you roll a 4,700 on your first roll of a Farkle game and not set a new high score? That’s how pathetic I am. That and I’m having an actual, real-life conversation about urns. I don’t know what this says about me, but I’m going to chalk it up to the booze and not my morbid mental state. Ah, fuck. The Mets lost today after Johan Santana left the game with a lead. Here’s to firing Omar Minaya! Here’s to firing all the front office personnel and starting fresh with some other humps!

***

The blog post is a dead art form. I used to feel like — as one of the earliest bloggers known to man (or even woman) — each post was a blank canvas, upon which I could craft some meaningful story or message that would be disseminated throughout the world. Even those weird stupid African villages where everybody speaks in clicking sounds and there is no electricity. Then everybody and their gay uncles started blogging, and now you have to be as outlandish and brash as possible just to have your voice heard. Or you have to post only Arcade Fire and Vampire Weekend MP3s to have your site picked up by MP3 blog aggregators. I’ve never been one to …

***

Sorry, I lost track of time for a few minutes there. Sali walked through the apartment and noticed something was a little off with my behavior and we started chatting. I don’t remember what I was last typing, but I do remember that I was working on a bottle of really good dark beer. I’m just about done with that now. Hopefully Nicci will show up within the next hour with a bottle of water, because I’ve got to be awake and sober for work tomorrow morning. This whole website seems like something I could have created in high school if I knew a little bit more about computer programming. I should have, considering I took three classes in programming (failed ‘em all, too!). Some of my favorite ideas from the website include: “What if the world was just Laser Tag all the time,” and “Opposite of a Microwave.” I swear to God, some of the best ideas I’ve ever had came to me when I was smoking pot. Some of the earliest blog entries on this website were inspired by being high. It’s a shame I’ve gone straight and switched over to alcohol.

***

Well, I’m finished with the beers, the chicken, and the toast. I’ve squeezed the last drop out of the old barbecue sauce packet. It’s time to wait for Nicci to bring me a bottle of water and read my bookmarked websites to see what’s happening in the world. I hope you’ve enjoyed this installment of Getting Drunk On Your Donations, and maybe you will find that you are wanting to make a donation to the website! If you do so, you can be assured that your money is going only towards booze, and not some stupid charity or something. You will have your own personalized blog post, like Louise does tonight, where I describe exactly how I spend your money. Really, I think this is the best deal on the Internet. You give me money, I get drunk, I write something funny (maybe?) and we all win! Then I post some MP3s and people who would ordinarily not read this website arrive here and get really freaked out and leave right away.

Buzzcocks – Boredom
Pere Ubu – Heart Of Darkness
Lusk – Undergarden

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