This American Randomness

Please, please, please tell me that you all regularly listen to This American Life. You all must listen to this last weeks episode on "What Television Taught Me". Dan Savage made me laugh so fucking hard that I got an email from my coworker about it.

I am not often home or around on Saturday mornings when it runs, So I podcast it, and you should to. Ok, honestly I'm usually entirely too hungover to do anything but lay on my bathroom floor cursing that the long list of drinks I had thought were a brilliant idea the night before. Actually I've found the best cure for hangovers is fountain coke and fresh air.

When did I start getting hangovers? I used to be the champ in college of the 'pop up in the morning and feel like a million bucks even though I and my roommates drank all the liquor in our house the previous evening.

Now that I've entered my late 20's (oh my god, my late 20's- sometimes it hits me hard that I really am).

Recently I was in one of the "college" bars, a bar I never frequented even when I was in college. This place is/was the sorority and fraternity den of hookups (The Crystal), which is probably why I avoided it like the plague. I managed to make it through college with only one minor indiscretion, and was so minor most people wouldn't even have put it on their radar. It taught me after 4 beers and 3 shots it is never a good idea to kiss that guy from your junior English class. NEVER.

You will have to sit next to him for the next 4 weeks and it will be pure torture.

But now I've been hitting up the The Crystal like it is my job. Mostly because they have cheap Leinenkugal's Sunset Wheat ($1.25 per pint!) and the music is good for Friday night happy hour. This of course has led to many drunken shenanigans of recent months, which if I chronicled them here we would never make it back to the original story.

So one fateful Friday night we are all drinking and having a good time- when I excuse myself to use the ladies room. While in the bathroom another patron asks me what I think of her earrings. For a point of brevity lets call her Dumb Youth. Why? Because this is my blog and that is her name. And while I'm glad to offer her my opinion I'm nothing of an expert on the subject of earrings. I tell her they are fine/cute and somehow it comes up that she is from Cleveland.

I'm not usually one for chatting up random people in public restrooms but it does happen on occasion and usually when all the parties involved have been drinking. At least in the ladies' room it does, I cannot say for sure whether men talk to each other or under what circumstances it would be ok to ask your fellow bathroom partaker if "your belt looked ok?"

So after discovering that the girl in the bathroom and I both were from Cleveland we come to find out that we are from neighboring eastside towns. The conversation continues to go on, and while it seems like this bathroom chit chat has now occurred over hours it is actually taken place in just a few minutes.

It then somehow comes about that her brother and I both went to the same high school. This is exchange that occurred:

Me: What's your brother's name, maybe I know him.

Dumb youth: Uh, how OLD are you?

Me: 27.

Dumb Youth: AH! Maybe you know his teachers because you are way to old to know him.

Me: Uh, actually one of the religion teachers used to a crush of mine when we went to school together.

Dumb Youth: You're so GAY!

So I'm not only OLD but also GAY.



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