Colt 45's and Pall Malls?

So it's 9:15 am right now. Last night I went out to a place called I-Bar (I think it's actually called the Independent, but local colloquialisms rule over all as far as I'm concerned), and it was generally a pretty good/drunk time. I talked to some really cute 26 year old conference coordinator from Jacksonville, and things were going well until she "realized" that I was only 21, about to turn 21. And by "realized", what I really meant was that I apparently told her that when confronted with such a question. It's cool though, she was still really sociable and not weirded out at all that she clearly wanted to sleep with someone underage, heh. I had like four or five beers and then a Joose, which is an 24oz can filled with 10% alcohol and caffeine, taurine, and guarana. It's actually the weirdest thing ever, because it only took until like a quarter of the way through the Joose to feel pretty drunk, and by the time I had finished it, I felt really intoxicated and just loose as hell.

Anyway, my main point of all of this was not to toot my own good looking horn, but to illustrate the disconnect between the levels of intoxication faced last night, and the fact that I'm up right now, at not even ten o'clock, having a single person dance party in my bedroom to Atom and His Package. I mean, I know it sounds really goofy as fuck, but for some reason, I feel absolutely no hangover whatsoever. In fact, I feel like I'm really ready to take on the world this morning. Normally, this only happens after I wake up with a can of Sparks and some really gross food that, for the sake of my colon's general health, I shouldn't eat. But hey, I'm not complaining at all.

So the other day, I'm sitting in creative writing (the geographic center of funny in my life, or so it seems), and we have an excercise where we were supposed to make two quick character sketches, exchange them with other people, and then make a ten line dialogue. Of course, the one girl who trades with me is a really straight laced Christian girl, so she gives me a character sketch that she prefaced with "don't judge me if this is really weird". The characters were like an old man who was a retired exorcist who loved his 6 year old grand daughter who liked Peter fucking Pan and was bright and cheery. So needless to say, because it was so happy and cheery, there was absolutely no way to inject profanity into my dialogue, it was patently terrible. However, my friend Alex got two characters which were actually workable, a dorky and sensitive theater major and a jacked up bro who relates everything to football, which he immediately turned into the most side-splittingly funny rape scene ever. See guys, rape can be funny. In fact, totally faux pas shit can always be funny in literature because it's just that--literature. How the hell do you think Dave Barry makes a living?

People need to sack up and take music, and art in general with a grain of salt. It's not shit to get offended over. It's culture, and even the "worst" parts of culture still shape the "best" parts of it.

-Joe