Occasions

Why do humans find the compelling need to make an occasion out of everything? Does it help us get through things?

I got hired, I deserve a beer.

I got fired, I deserve a beer.

In truth, everything in life deserves a beer. Everyone does this.

"Well it's Monday and, well, I got through it so I can eat whatever I want because it's the beginning of the week."

"And today is Tuesday, which for me is extra depressing because it's like an island all by itself. For me it's the day furthest away from the weekend because on Monday everyone is still talking about their weekend and on Wednesday everyone is excited about it being halfway over. So, I just really hate Tuesday and I'm tired so I am just not going to work out today, because it's Tuesday. Tuesday."

"It's Wednesday! Alas, the hump day has arrived! After work I am going to go out and tie on a nine beer buzz because, let's face it, I made it half way through the week."

"Thursday is awesome because it's so close to Friday. I rarely do any work and spend most of my time planning my weekend. I think I am going to the lake with friends. I will know how many people are down after receiving 17 emails and numerous texts. Today, I cancelled a meeting to get an oil change."

"Friday and casual it is! I am wearing cargo shorts and a Hawaiian shirt and all I can talk about is the pontoon boat I rented. I think I will have about four beers at lunch because, after a week of hard work, I deserve it."

"It's Saturday. Pontoon boat. Grill. AC/DC playlist. I think I saw one of the girls boobs. We make jokes about our boss's aquarium that he has in his office."

"Sunday. I wake up at 2pm and go to taco bell. I don't know what time I went to sleep, but I did call my ex-girlfriend twenty seven times between 3 and 6am so it had to be sometime after that. The old sunday night blues are setting in and I think I will just try to focus on four hours of HBO original programming to take my mind of the fact that tomorrow is Monday."

But, maybe it's an evolutionary thing. Maybe, way back in the day, there were some monkeys who just couldn't handle the beginning of the week and they killed themselves by jumping off a cliff. But it wasn't that the ones that survived didn't hate Sunday nights, they were just better at self-rationalization than the other ones. They sat around eating bananas, throwing their shit at each other and saying things like:

"You know Davidson, by the looks of the moon I would say that tomorrow is the beginning of the week."
"Sure feels like it Allibaster."
"I do say, I am feeling quite down. I could really go for some fresh sloth."
"Sounds like a good idea, if we could only catch one. Muhahaha."
"Muhahaha. MMyess.....but seriously Davidson, let's go eat some.
We deserve it."
"But of course."

Triumvirate

The first one you wouldn't know.
Big hair - Michelob.
The second one is quite a sight.
Knee high boots - draft Bud Light.
The third, a rare, if ever, feat.
Too much lip gloss - whiskey, neat.

I've got a feeling, I've got a hunch.
Too early to act, it's only lunch.
They are much older, the effort - vain.
The fat one clasps a Key West key chain.
Has she been there? Old home? Vacation?
No wedding ring. Lonely libation.

Still they sit, the tab not paid.
The cougars waiting to be laid.
Oh shit, they look over at me.
What do they want? What do they see?
Their love I surely can't afford.
The fat one sits on my keyboard
aklsbadkvjsagu;rgeoih'teghiu

Happy Birthday Kareem Abdul-Jabbar

I cannot stand being with someone who abuses waitstaff. While I would like to say that it is because I am a good natured person who genuinely cares about those that live off of tips I think it goes back to a particular episode of Dateline.

I have large trust issues with the restaurant business. I know a lot of them are "dedicated to their craft", but a whole other group of people in the business, called the majority, are there because they have to be.

When they are about to toss buffalo wings with their bare hands they aren't thinking for one second about gloves, hand sanitizer or the virus they contracted from high fiving their best friend after beating Guitar Hero on medium.

No, they are thinking, "when the fuck am I going to get the hell out of here, pick up a Mickey's and watch the season finale of Deadliest Catch?"

I worked at a grocery store in high school and do you know what their advice was when it came to hand sanitation?

It was the following steps:

1) Wait for the water to get hot enough that you can stand it.
(whatever the fuck that means)

2. Sing Happy Birthday twice.
(what?)

3. Grab a towel with two hands.
(discriminatory towards the drummer of Def Leopard)

4. Use the same towel to open the door.
(I actually agree with this one)

Can you imagine if everyone followed this protocol? I mean I have actually done this. I have sang Happy Birthday to myself (twice) while washing my hands and I will say that there is nothing in this world that will make you feel like a bigger idiot. I remember the dimly lit Arby's bathroom where it happened - curly fries and a jamocha shake waiting for me outside while I sit in the bathroom and sing myself happy birthday four and a half months too early.

Why don't they just say wash your hands for about a minute? Or what if your name is Hank? Isn't your wash time going to be a little bit less than that of Kareem Abdul-Jabbar. That's what they should have said. The rule should not be to sing Happy Birthday twice, but sing Happy Birthday twice to Kareem Abdul-Jabbar. That's what you call an industry standard.

When it comes to hand sanitation, let us err on the side of length rather than brevity.

Thank you Kareem Abdul-Jabbar.

It also frees those people with one-syllable names (Fred) from that awkward childhood memory where people had to drag out his name when they sang him the song.

"Happy Birthday dear Fre-Ed, Happy Birthday to you." and the three people that were there clapped.

I have a two-syllable name but some people like to make it one-syllable. My basketball coach in high school called me Challs. My football coach in high school called me Charlls. And a guy that used stand outside of an Exxon that I would get gas in high school used to call me Char-Rillz. There are many permutations, but what are we actually talking about?

We're talking about restaurants and my anxiety over what they do when we're not looking. Nothing makes me more nervous than when I am out with someone else's family and the patriarch yells, "EXCUSE ME MAM!? DO YOU HAVE ANY MENUS!? WE HAVE BEEN HERE FOR SIX MINUTES!!"

You might as well have ordered for us right then:

"Um he wants a cheeseburger and can you get Ramone, the dishwasher, to make the patty with his feet? Um yeah, that'd be great. And she'll have the rockfish with a side of Herman's rash. For me, I would like, let's see here...the risotto cake served over the bed of questionable substance with nameless glaze. And mam, when you get a second do you think we could get any bathroom butter? This bread is very dry."