-If you’re anything like me, this weekend you’ll spend both nights going to six different bars to celebrate ten different people’s birthdays.  And what’s weird is that I’ll go weeks and months without a birthday party, and then all of a sudden I simultaneously get a dozen Evites for various shindigs, blowouts, and the occasional bash.  This Clustered Birthday Phenomenon (or CBP) is without any logical explanation.  It just seems as if, even though my friends come from varying backgrounds and geographic locations, all of their parents happened to have fucked during the same February weekend in the late 1970s.  CBP is a dangerous epidemic too, usually resulting in exorbitant amounts of money being spent at annoying bars with people I don’t like.  Every Evite should come with a disclaimer that says: “Warning, this party may suck.”

-Last weekend, which was thankfully birthday-free, I had a pretty wild Saturday night.  But when I woke up the next morning, I actually didn’t feel that horrible, only slightly horrible.  I rolled out of bed, made a piece of toast, and promptly devoured it.  About half an hour later, I was in the bathroom vomiting Exorcist-style with no regard for life, limb, or porcelain.  When I finally recovered, the first thing I said to my roommate Brian was, “Dude, I think I have food poisoning.”  Isn’t that just so apropos of the twentysomething mentality of denial?  We go from bar to bar ordering beer after beer and taking shot after shot, and then when we throw up the next day, what do we blame our sickness on?  Toast.

-I was out a few weeks ago with Triplets #1 and #3.  We were having a bite to eat and some beers at a local bar.  After we ordered drinks, the waitress asked us for ID.  As twenty-five-year-olds, we weren’t really insulted, more like bewildered.  We were like, “Wait a minute, underage people actually exist?  And they come here?  That’s impossible!”  I think that, soon after you turn twenty-one, you block out all recollection of ever being underage.  For me, the only reminder of that time is the picture on my driver’s license – in which I look about eleven years old.

-I have a girlfriend.  But if I’m going to a bar with some of my boys, the first thing I ask is, “Are there going to be any hot chicks there?”  Why should I care, since I’m not going to hook up anyway?  Well, some people like bars with dim lighting and cool paintings on the walls.  I like bars with hot chicks everywhere.  It’s just for atmosphere.

-I think that if you went to college anywhere with a direction in its name, you drink way more heavily than anybody else.  Think about it.  University of North Texas.  Western Carolina.  Central Florida.  These people get really fucked up.  I don’t know if they feel inferior because their school is so far in the middle of nowhere that a directional name is necessary and they have to compensate or what.  They might as well call it University of South Holy Shit I’m Plastered.

-About a year and a half ago, I emceed an event at a bar in New York.  A few days ago, I found out that two people who went to the event because they were fans of my column met each other, and are now engaged.  Oh my God.  People are getting married.  Somehow I feel responsible.  This can’t be good.  Seriously though, Rob and Lori, I wish you the best of luck.  May you one day have many beautiful children whose birthdays I am not invited to.

-On a personal note, as I sat in the stands at Yankee Stadium the other night, watching the Yankees lose Game 7 of the ALCS to the Red Sox, I could barely believe my eyes.  My team was completely choking.  To the fucking Red Sox.  I still can’t believe it.  But, hey, we lost.  You guys won.  And I’m pretty sure that David Ortiz is my daddy.

-As always, here are some random things I’ve been ruminating about lately…

-Do you think that construction workers ever get woken up really early in the morning, get up, look out the window and think, what the hell is all that racket?

-I can’t wait for this presidential election to be over.  Not so much because I hate politics, but because I hate stupid, uncreative advertising that uses an election theme.  I do not want to choose a president of beers or listen to a candidate who sells Internet access.  If I wanted the droning repetition of focus-grouped slogans, I’d pay attention to the actual election.

-My buddy Chi is the king of hyperbole: “It’s the nicest day out ever.”  “That was the greatest half-hour of television I’ve ever seen in my life.”  “These are the coolest jeans in the history of the world.”  Hey, Chi, how about this – you’re the biggest idiot of all time.

-My buddy Claudio is That Guy Who is Always Late.  I’m a very punctual person, so never in my life have I been able to fathom the Late Guy.  Why are you always late?  You’re like a chick.  Just leave earlier for God’s sake.  And the worst part about Claudio is that he doesn’t even think it’s a big deal when he shows up so late.  He’s like, “Why is everyone so pissed off?”  And I’m like, “Claud, the party was yesterday.”

-Throughout the years, I have commented numerous times on my roommate Brian’s strange quirks.  But I’ve never mentioned his most salient characteristic: his quasi-speech-impediment.  First of all, for some reason he pluralizes words that shouldn’t be pluralized.  For instance, he’ll say, “Knock on woods” or call his girlfriend “Babes.”  Once when I asked him who was hosting Weekend Update, he said, “Colins Quinn.”  Where he gets that extra “s” from, I have no idea.  He also has a tendency to fumble upon common phrases.  He’ll say, “I hunked the horn” (honked), “They’ve very tight-knitched” (tight-knit), “I was thrown through a loop” (for a loop), or even “She gave me the fifth degree” (third degree).  And when you correct him he’ll say, “Odviously that’s what I meant.”  And I’ll say, Brian, you’re my boy for life, but the word is “OBviously.”

-And, finally, how great is being invited to a party that you have no desire to attend and actually having a legitimate excuse of why you can’t go?  You’re always like, “Oh, man, I’m sorry dude.  I wish I could come to your birthday…but I can’t.  I was really looking forward to it but my second cousin is getting married in New Jersey and I obviously can’t miss it.  But thanks for the Evite, man, and have a great birthday!”  And just when you’re done feeling all smug for getting out of another birthday party, you realize, wait a minute – I have to go to my second cousin’s wedding in New Jersey.  That’s even worse!  Fuck me.

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