Friday, November 18, 2011

Life full of mania with a dash of humor and a slice of normality (those are the secret ingredients) Vol 3 Issue 46

I’m not going to lie, there were more than a few benefits from being the “beer man’s” step-son while growing up (I basically felt famous in Browntown because of him, which says a lot about its drinking habits). I of course liked to abuse my power because it usually made me laugh. One of these occurrences used to happen quite often in college and that was when a party was trying to tap a keg.

I always enjoyed heading to a party where people would be crowding around the untapped keg in anticipation of the awesomeness about to be bestowed upon them (they were also more than likely chanting: “Chips, chips, chips, chips, chips!”) as the host struggled with the taps. Ah, the eternal struggle of untapped kegs versus the guys who have been drinking all day was always entertaining. The tap wouldn’t be sealed or they’d have it on crooked or the beer would be pouring way too fast (all forms of alcohol abuse btw). They’d struggle with it for a few minutes as the crowd would grow anxious (and at times I even heard some slurs as well). I could see the frustration just about tip (plus it would be about the time I’d start getting thirsty) when I’d mentioned this:

“Hey guys, my step-dad works for Budweiser, you want me to tap those kegs?”

I usually received cheers and a few jealous snide remarks as I saved the party (I also felt like Jeremy Piven in PCU after he tapped the kegs and silenced the “chips” chant-get it now?). If I really liked the people throwing the party I’d even bring over the CO2 tap passed down to me from my step-dad (you didn’t have to pump it, amazing). Funny thing about that tap is that when I tried to return it the only response I got from my step-dad went something like this:

“So I let (Radio Edit) borrow this tap for a number of years at UC and it gets returned to me without a scratch. And you have it for one year at Witt and it’s destroyed?”

I only had one answer:

“Yeah, sorry, my friends like to party.”

I didn’t say that but he would have laughed if I did (I mean he’s the beer man, he’s awesome). It is true though, my friends did like to party. We didn’t half-ass it by any means (ask the woman with the machete who wanted to shut down our backyard concert/kegger-she could of just called and complained). I’ve seen this trait develop over the years from simple big screen porn on during high school parties to the unfortunate demise of the tap to now my fight with BMD, I have trouble half-assing anything.

Sure this has gotten me into trouble (the Commonwealth of Kentucky can attest to that) but it’s also what I believe will get me through this. Don’t get me wrong even today I get into trouble because I want to go so hard (or H.A.M) and beat this BMD by outworking it. This can backfire though and I can lost in the details around me and then the big picture (being healthy) gets compromised because I feel left behind in the other aspects of my life (career, social, and well just trying to get laid I guess-I kid, I kid). Don’t get it confused though I am grateful that I don’t half-ass this diagnosis or much in my life but it does get tough to explain my actions at time. The beer man and that damn cop on a bicycle in Covington can back that up for me.

Since many of my manic experiences involve music I’ve decided to add random music videos to the blog for my enjoyment and your inconvenience. Enjoy!

Coming Correct,

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