Hi, I'm Nik. You know me, you know how I do. Well, I'm changin' it up. Dropping my life of booze and broads and moving to the bible belt to see if I can make it as a cubicle jockey. This little blog will keep everyone updated as I adjust to a whole new lifestyle. Thanks for listening.
Suggested Soundtrack: "Man of Constant Sorrow" by The Soggy Bottom Boys
I figured something out today:
I figured out why you will often see a hot girl walking hand in hand with a dirty, stupid-looking country boy around town here.
Here’s how it works:
We know that a beautiful girl can be born anywhere. So you take some town in the middle of nowhere, a town called Borington or something, and this town will have a fair number of good-looking girls. Among them, we have OUR girl. She’s not rich; her parents have never left the county. But watching TV as a child, she dreamed of one day moving to Hollywood and being an actress. She becomes a cheerleader in school and everyone knows she is too hot for Borington, that this girl is gonna do something someday. But a girl needs love, and that’s where our guy comes in.
He’s a corn-fed farm boy, who is of average looks and intelligence, who knows that he’s gotta work hard to succeed, and so he does, he throws football after football through the tire swing in his front yard, over and over and it doesn’t make him the best, but it does make him the best in Borington. He becomes the quarterback of the high school team.
They met during freshman year, and eventually get married.
His arm isn’t good enough for college, and neither are his grades. His uncle runs a farm equipment store, so he starts working there. She is in community college, or going to hairstylist school.
She may be married to a country bumpkin, but she reads Cosmo and watches Sex in the City. She knows what to shop for when she is out with friends. She looks good before she leaves the house. She loves her man, and would never think that there is anything wrong with him. This is kinda sweet in a way, her nonjudgemental love.
He, on the other hand, at one point just said, “Fuck, it. From now on, I’m stickin’ to t-shirts tucked into tight jeans, high-top Nikes, Texas-shaped belt-buckle, Cellphone holster, and my camouflage baseball hat with a fishhook on it. “
Then, when his uncle decides to expand his farm equipment empire, they up and move to “the big city,” where guys like me look at them and say, “Why the FUCK is that chick with THAT guy?”
It’s the only explanation I can think of.
I wonder if I went undercover if they would know that I was an imposter?
If you like a good narrative, don't watch the video yet. The story of this brief trip follows, and if you want to see the finished product right away, go ahead. The version above is the low quality version, so it can be hard to see some of the finer detail. If you are a purist, and you should be, watch this video in "High Quality." It's the better choice. If you are lazy (like me) you can watch the crappy version, but trust me, it's not as pretty. You should really watch the high quality version: CA to TX in 6 minutes Click that and then click the "watch in high quality" thingie on the bottom right corner.
THE STORY OF THE DRIVE
Mike is a very good friend of mine. Here is a brief (brief!) timeline of our friendship: -Became friends at Outback Steakhouse in San Diego (El Cajon, actually) -Got up to all sorts of no good for some time -Mike got restless, moved to Dallas to work a "real job," tries and fails repeatedly to get me to move to Texas -While Mike climbed the corporate ladder, I fucked off for three years -Mike falls in love, gets married -At wedding, Mike finally convinces me to move to Dallas -I move to Dallas, friendless except for Mike -Two months after I move to Dallas, Mike gets a better position and moves to San Diego
As I see it, there are two ways to look at that last bit: 1. "Had I moved to Dallas when Mike did, I might also be getting the opportunity to move back to California" 2. "That mother fucker"
Well, as it turns out, the grass is always greener and all of that, and once you factor in the cost of living and a heinous commute, Mike wasn't doing much better in California, and wanted to come back. I helped Mike and his family pack for the move TO California, and swore I would not help him pack ever again. Mike needed help in another way. Would I be wiling to drive one of his cars back for him? he wondered. Sure, I say.
He found me a wingman: Jonathan, who Mike knew from Dallas. The two of us would fly out on a Friday night, hang out on the beach on Saturday, and drive back in a straight shot on Sunday. Easy, right? I got my camera ready, as I already knew what I wanted to do on the terrible, terrible drive.
Friday night, stepping off the plane, I had one thing and one thing only on my mind: Double double. Mission accomplished. I'm going to take a quick second to mention that there really is nothing like In-n-Out Burger in Texas. Every so often, some ignorant bastard will make the "Whataburger tastes just like In-n-Out" statement. This is wrong. Whataburger is a filthy shithole with burgers that cause explosive gas 99.9% of the time. The burgers are greasy, the fries are for shit, and the staff mopes around like sweatshop workers. There is no comparison. The lack of Double doubles (animal style, with whole grilled onions) is an empty part of my Texas existence, the same kind of emptiness I have from the lack of three-dollar, two-pound Carne Asada Burritos...but back to the story.
Satisfied with the meal and tired from getting drunk on the plane ride, we crashed out, ready for our one day of California before we had to set our backs to the coast and head back to Texas.
Saturday, we prepped for the beach. In my absence from the San Diego area, some shitty law got passed and now alcohol is NOT allowed on the beach. Seriously people, I'm not gone a year and the whole place is falling to shit! No booze on the beach?!?!? It was time to get creative. I had a plan. You get a brief tutorial:
**Getting drunk at the alcohol-free beach**
Step 1: Get yourself a handle of vodka, and 10 Vitamin waters of any flavor
Step 2: Empty the top part of the Vitamin Waters out. There is a helpful crease just above the label that helps you determine just how much to pour out.
Step 3: Top up the partially full Vitamin Waters with the vodka. The bottle of vodka will now be split among the 10 Vitamin Waters, with hardly any to spare.
Step 4: Pack them in a cooler. Be careful. Three of these will have you talking to strangers while pissing on cars.
**Tutorial over**
We went to the beach at Torrey Pines. It was fantastic. Good things were happening. My good friend "Serena" came up from Ocean Beach and we discovered that while you may not be able to chug a beer on the beach, it's still not a huge deal if you roll a doobie:
Thus intoxicated, we wandered up and down the shore. I was in a happy place, smelling the salty air, soaking up the sun, and rocking my new beach towel.
As I do every time I'm home, I said to myself, "Why the FUCK did I leave?"
Drunk and happy, we went to dinner at the Outback, and then out to the casino for some more boozin'.
Sunday, after breakfast, John and I set out for Palm Springs, where I wanted to pick some things up from my Dad's place.
That done, I turned my camera on, set it on the dashboard, and we were off...
(If you waited to watch the video, here's that link again. Enjoy.) CA to TX in 6 minutes Click that and then click the "watch in high quality" thingie on the bottom right corner.
I'm a 28-year-old boy and a lifelong restaurant employee who has been given an opportunity to work a "real job," the only catch being that it is in Dallas, TX.
