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Day One in the Life of Captain Garbarrassing | The GARBARRABLOG

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Day One of Three in the Life of Captain Garbarrassing



By Captain Garbarrassing | March 5, 2008



Day 1: Ode to Alcoholism & the Road to Garbarrassment

Friday’s are nothing special. After all, it is part of the work week, isn’t it? I believe it was said best in the movie Waiting... “That’s like being the smartest kid with Down’s syndrome. ” Nevertheless, Friday holds a special place in my heart...


7:00 am
Alarm.

7:05 am
Alarm #2

7:10 am
Friday doesn’t start until my third alarm pulls me from the depths of my drunken Thursday night coma. I wake up, always confused. I’m usually passed out, butt-ass naked, with absolutely no blankets, and a huge erection. Or maybe it was a truly special night and I’m still fully clothed - under three blankets, sweating Jager or Tequila, with a huge erection. It’s about ten steps to the bathroom and I don’t open my eyes.


7:15 am
Start the shower. Let it heat up, get in, open my eyes. The shower - a wonderful place to journey into the blackened depths of my brain where Thursday nights go to die. I’ve found that the shower helps wash away whatever guilt or remorse might be stored up there. I guilt about leading that one mediocre girl on while she bought us shots. She was oook, but no matter how much I drank I just couldn’t bring myself to wake up next to her. I wonder where she ended up. There goes the erection. Fuck it. I remorse about those two smoking hot blondes I bought many shots for. I realize it’s the same thing as paying for a hooker and then telling the hooker she can just take the money and do nothing. I wonder what a hooker would do if that actually happened. My courtesy should merit a ball sucking at minimum. Gotta try that out one time. One thing was for certain with those girls. Everyone involved, especially yours truly, knew that I wouldn’t be getting any. So why am I even mad at myself for choosing to be retarded? Who the fuck cares anyway. This water feels sooo good. I forgot to brush my teeth before the shower, so I’m remembering what kind of alcohol I drank. F minus. I’m never drinking again.


7:30 am
No time to eat...gotta get my shit and go to work. Always take at least one bottle of water for the drive. At least my hair doesn’t smell like smoke anymore. I’m dressed well but my shirt’s blatantly wrinkled. Who cares, it’s Friday. My blood-alcohol level can be measured by my shaving job.

7:55 am
How does the most-drunk person get to the office before everyone else? It might require skill, but mainly just practice. I’m feeling pretty good after one bottle of water and three shots of espresso. Oh wait, no I’m not. I remember I have eight hours of sitting in this god-forsaken office before I’m free again. People ask me how my night was. “Good, ” I shrug. I would ask about their nights, but seriously...these people just need to fuck off. I’m feeling like garbage, and people need to know when to get the fuck out of my face.

11:00 am
Three hours have passed (for all the retards who couldn’t figure that one out) and honestly, YouTube is fantastic. Fortunately my boss is gone today so I can do whatever I please. Have you ever tried the blue Rockstar? It’s amazing. I’m not kidding. Also known as Crackstar, about three times as strong as Redbull, and available in 24 oz. cans. One a day helps me keep my eyes open. I’m definitely going to die before I hit fifty.

11:30 am
I speak to the only hot co-worker in my entire office for the first time. She invites me to join her and some other fellow employees for lunch. I pause for about a minute to ponder my decision. I’d definitely bang her. “Sure, lets go.” For a moment, I forget that these are the worst kind of co-workers. They are boring, make awful jokes, and are always ready to piss you off by interrogating you about your life at eight in the morning EVERY FUCKING DAY. I can handle lunch...I hope. Just once. For this girl, I’ll take one for the team.

12:00 pm
I want to kill myself. After all, hell can’t possibly be worse than this. I regret my earlier decision. Apparently, this girl is a vegan. For those of you who don’t know, vegans are vegetarians on crack. I’m sitting at a table. It's her, and three of the most hideous and annoying women I have ever been seen with. One of them, also vegan, weighs at least 350. Looking at her brings this already shitty day to an all-time low. I change my mind, this has to already be hell.

12:55 pm
Never have been happier to arrive at my office. This thought makes me laugh. At least lunch wasn’t a complete bomb. Got that brunette’s phone number. Unfortunately, that still didn’t make it worth it.

1:00 pm
Friday at the office is garbarrassing. Work does not get done in my section. If I haven’t thrown up multiple times, I’m thinking about it. The first time someone saw me booting in the bathroom, I played it perfectly. Oh yeah, thats right bitch, I’m sick and I’m still coming to work. I’m the fucking man, so what. The second time that same guy caught me, I just ignored him. I’m a joke.

4:35 pm
I’m free! Fuck all of you still at work! I’m laughing to myself as I get in my car. By this point, my BA level has dropped enough so that I’m legally able to drive. I’m beating rush hour. Flowing. It’s better than sex. Well, boring sex. Seriously.

6:00 pm
What a fucking asshole. Who says they aren’t going out on Friday because they went out on Thursday? I tell my friend to suck my balls. He doesn’t know it, but it’s already been decided. He’s coming out.

6:01 pm
If you manage to make happy hour on Friday, you’re embarrassing in my book. I know that on any given Friday, I will sooner shit my pants at an AA meeting than make it to a local happy hour. There is much to do before I can resume drinking. I run through my list. Whack off. Shower. Work out. Eat. Nap. Tonight I will resume champion status!

9:00 pm
Let the fun begin! What is this glorious taste in my mouth? Johnnie Walker Black is absolutely delicious. If you have a penis, I suggest you start training your tastebuds immediately. I promise it will give you an erection...until you black out. You may have some problems at that point, but you won’t remember so who cares. For the ladies, I recommend sticking to anything colorful that ends in Tini. Trust me, this will work out for all of us in the end. I throw back a couple. It’s time to start drinking.

9:20 pm
I always get to everything on my Friday afternoon To-Do list except for Nap. Maybe I should cut back on the Crackstar at work. It’s just so god-damn delicious though. I throw a couple shots of vodka and some Crackstar together and clear out the JWB taste. I’m hovering around B minus status. Feeling quite sexy.

9:45 pm
Fuck the bars with long lines for always being the place with worthwhile women. I don’t mean worthwhile to talk to. Oh yes, I love to hate them. The bars I mean. A flask with some Crown or JWB is a useful tactic to fight the wait at the actual bar, and it has become deep-rooted in my strategy. I’m not saying bust it out - if you do a bouncer or bartender will snipe you and you will be removed...like a little bitch. You really need to get your first drink, let’s say Crown and Ginger, sip it down to the ice, and then use the glass and whatever remaining ice you might have. It’s give and take, the faster you kill that drink, the more ice you have to get your sip on with straight liquor.

10:00 pm
Two shots down, many more to go. If I’m successful at this, then half an hour from now I’ll be up to F minus status and rising. Then the embarrassment shall begin. Maybe tonight will be the night I triumph. For the record, this place plays the same music every time, much too loud, and it pisses me off. But actually, that one eighties hit by The Outfield is pretty fucking tight.
You know it.

11:30 pm
I’m full blown wasted. I’m talking to some skinny brunette who’s acting like she’s too hot to be touched. I don’t care. This girl better be on my cock later. We decide to do some shots. Tequila. Always a blast. It’s time to make a move. “Heyy, question...If I flip a coin what are the chances of me getting head? ” Not my best attempt, and unfortunately this girl apparently has no sense of humor. I get some looks from other girls who overheard the question nearby and they laugh. Meanwhile my buddy, who was previously being a bitch and refusing to go out, is getting hit on by two moms sitting at the bar. I ditch the girl so others can’t tell I’d failed from the start, and listen in on their talk for a bit. They’re mid-thirties. One’s engaged, the other is married. He lies up a couple years and tells them he’s 25. They tell him he needs to be 27. Two years? Well I guess everyone is retarded. Seriously, what difference does that make? He’s having fun messing with them, he asks if the hotter one would leave her fiance for him. She says she would ravage him. My thought: They are minus. I realize this means I’m not drinking fast enough. “I’ll take a Crown&Ginger, Vodka Redbull with Lime, and a glass with ice. ” I kill the Vodka RB at the bar and bust out the flask.

11:50 pm
Bullseye. Now I’m armed and ready to move in. A couple girls I’d gotten eyes from have wandered off, but I’ve sniped two I’d noticed before standing alone. Luckily neither of these girls has Large-Friend Syndrome. LFS is a serious problem in the world of meeting groups of strangers. I ponder this epidemic as I walk over. I’m feeling good, and I might get somewhere even though I’m clearly garbage, a bit too drunk, and double-fisting whiskeys.

12:45 am
I realize I can’t exactly remember what I’ve been doing. I must have failed miserably earlier and began a long trip around the bar to embarrass myself some more. I’m holding a clear drink. Upon examination, this turns out to be a Gin and Tonic with no lime. Wow, such minus. I’m sitting down at a table with a group of fat girls I don’t know. But wait. There’s a pretty decent girl who is very exotic looking here too. She has a pretty great body, I’m thinking about this and the problem of LFS again until I realize she has caught me staring directly at her wonderful breasts. I’d open my mouth to say something clever, but at this point, I got nothing. “NICE BREASTS!” She says thanks and leaves the table. I start listening to the other girls talk. I may be drunk, but I’m impressed at how worthless they are. My friend has failed me again, allowing me to wander into this maze and get trapped sitting with a bunch of F minuses. These girls are typical bar people-watchers, more accurately: people-judgers. How dare the fat judge others! Absolutely outrageous. I wonder how they’re going to judge me. I grade myself a U for unsatisfactory, and merrily excuse myself.

1:30 am
Being at a bar with people you know makes you exponentially stronger than when you’re wandering around alone like a bitch. My friend has been checking out this girl with exceptional fake tits who is sporting a great shirt to prove it, and when the guy talking to her walks away he moves in for the kill. He gets about ten words out before she starts making out with him. I enjoy this scene and sip on my beer. I converted from liquor about half an hour ago. Some mom is hammered and trying to grind up on me. I laugh at her. If I’m that age and coming to this bar, please kill me. My buddy has turned to get the bartenders attention and order drinks for the two of them, when the girl starts making out with a different guy. My friend notices and gives the guy a nice little shove. The other guy takes an awkward swing at him, misses, and falls on his ass. GONE. Out of the bar he’s thrown. My god it’s glorious. I’m loving it.

1:55 am
The lights come on after last call, and I regret still being here. My friend has been ready to go for a while since the fake-titted mishap, but I’d rather act retarded and drag out this embarrassment. I have struck out, ground out, and flied out by this point. Right about now I am the Barry Bonds of this bar, minus the scoring: I’ve swung for the fences every time, and my alcohol usage is as blatant as his steroid use. No matter how drunk I am, my ability to accurately judge myself never fails. The make-out slut with fake tits is still here. In the light, they’re really veiny and it’s kind of sad. At this point, all I want is to close my eyes and not throw up. But a champion never quits trying, so I drop a half-assed attempt to pick this girl up on our way out. “Hey baby! How’s it goin?” I grin. Straight rejection. Some girl tells us we are cute guys. My buddy bets her $10 that she can’t fit his dick in her mouth. She is not very amused. Her friend tells us we are not very nice. She is ignored.

2:00 am
We are officially too late for Taco Bell, so hello McDonalds. I decide over some mediocre dollar menu items that my heavy drinking has negatively impacted my pursuit of females tonight. Yet, it has led to some rather fantastic A+ moments. It then occurs to me that I am completely and utterly garbarrassing. Tomorrow night will have to be different.

Yours Truly,
Captain Garbarrassing



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