Thursday, September 19, 2013

The $50 I Don't Remember Spending

"Who wants a shot???"

Aaaaahhhh those 4 words that I love to hate and hate to love.

It seems to be a common theme for a guy like me to usually go out for drinks and create pure fuckery with good friends, co-workers or random bitches any night of the week.

As the night winds down and I stumble across town trying to figure out a game plan on how to stay awake on BART, I ALWAYS GET HUNGRY.

The great thing about big cities is that there are usually places where you can go grab some food to munch on to fill that intoxicated appetite. You've been there. I've been there. WE'VE ALL BEEN THERE. People from all walks of life go to those places and eat so goddamn much that by the end of the night, they are either puking it all back up OR shitting it out in hungover fashion the next day.

I'm a little different though. If there isn't a food establishment within spitting distance of where I'm at, I won't bother to go out of my way to find it. The reason? I'm shitfaced and more than likely will get lost and end up having sex with a homeless person because my beer goggles have tricked me once again.


So what does a person like the Ghetto Genius do when he's hungry and is too lazy and wasted to find a late night spot to eat?

I GO TO A GAS STATION...apparently.

Now, you're all probably wondering, "Wait...why?" Great fucking question.

I've noticed over the years that 75% of the time when I'm out and want something to eat, I find myself at these fucking places. ALL THE TIME.

One would think that's not bad at all. "What the fuck is the point of your story, jackass?!" Just hang with me for a minute...

Typically when sober people walk into a gas station, they go inside to either 1) Pay for gas, 2) Buy something to drink, 3) Grab a snack 4) Use the bathroom, 5) Ask the attendant for directions to a destination. That's sober people.

Me on the other hand...wasted...doesn't do any of that shit.

See, whenever I'm fucked up and hungry, I've been known to walk into a gas station or 7-11 and buy the following items:

- Bottled water

- Chips. Now when I say chips, I'm talking about 5 bags of the biggest fucking bags possible. I'm talking Doritos, Funyuns, Sun Chips, Flaming Cheetohs and some goddamn Frito's.

- Sandwiches. "Who the fuck buys nasty fucking sandwiches at a goddamn gas station or a 7-11?!" I'll tell you who - THIS GUY. I don't know what it is, but for some odd fucking reason, I'm usually buying a tuna sandwich or a club sandwich that is basically turkey, something that looks like a tomato but is probably a rotted cucumber with 30 day old lettuce. I know. Just stop shaking your head already, motherfucker.

- Nachos. Late at night, who in the fuck buys nachos with cheese and chili that's probably been sitting in a container ALL FUCKING DAY?! THIS GUY!!!!!

- Candy. 4 bags of peanut M&M's. Do you think this is a game?! This isn't a fucking game people.

-  Sunglasses. Why? Because I can, motherfucker.

- Beef jerky. One beef stick and one bag.

- Cup of Noodles. You know...for those times you might need a good cup of soup from a gas station.

- Hot dogs. Nothing says, "fuck my life on the toilet" than a hot dog that looks like a brown leather dildo.

- Donuts. I mean, who the fuck doesn't love a donut? Even if it might be a little stale and taste like paper.

- Immodium AD. For those times when you can't control your asshole within a 2-4 hour period.

You're all probably thinking, "J, no fucking way man." I'm here to tell you motherfuckers, "Yes...YES fucking way."

Matter of fact, this was my night last night.

Working a little later than I had to, I decided to meet some friends for my buddies going away party at the old agency I used to work at. Wine, beer, shots. I got fucked up. Then I woke up this morning. I showered. Got dressed. Looked at myself in the mirror for about 10 minutes to re-evaluate my life situation and who I am as a person of the working class. Let me tell wasn't a good conversation. It was a fucking AWESOME conversation.

As I was walking out the door, I noticed two grocery bags chillin' on my kitchen counter. Having no idea what the fuck was in there and how it got into my apartment, I looked inside. To no avail, all those fucking items I described above. Funny part...only one bag of Flaming Cheetoh's was opened and I don't remember buying ANY of this shit.

I looked at the receipt and I paid around $50 for all these fucking items. All this shit I have no idea that I bought. IN PERSON. At a motherfucking gas station, nonetheless. Straight up, grocery shopping style.

Confused and hungover, I asked myself, "Why? Why the fuck did I buy all this shit and come away eating only a bag of fucking chips?"

It was that Fireball. That goddamn Fireball. The best and worst thing a single individual could drink without thinking, "I'll be fine if I take 10 shots. It's like candy. No biggie."

Moral of the story: If you get drunk and can't find a place to eat where you can actually buy food and eat it right there, just go the fuck home. There's a good chance you're not gonna remember shit anyway...AND, you're gonna save money too.

Another day in the life. One day I need to get my shit together.

1 comment:

Danielle said...

Sometimes, buying instant food is just as bad! I personally, either blow a huge amount at a chinese restaurant, or grab street meet. The single most suspicious food on the planet. Nothing like waking up with a sausage in your bed... lol