Writer’s Block is a bitch, ain’t it?
In celebration of my inability to write, we’re going right back to the well all the way from far flung last week.
Drinking, and I mean the actual ceremony of drinking, calling friends, going out, grabbing a booth or table, setting up shop, and going to work, not sitting in your living room, imbibing alcohol, is a very precise thing.
There are a lot of very important factors to bring into play.
Where are you going? Is this a crawl? A meet and greet? A bullshit session?
Why are we drinking? Is it in celebration? Mourning? Catching up? Trying to meet someone?
Who’s coming? Like it or not, you don’t actually have one giant circle of friends, but, instead, travel amongst many different spheres. Old friends from home, friends you went to school with, people you know from work, from extra-curriculars, etc, they won’t all get along, so you have to make sure you have the proper mix for a good night out.
Last week we examined the dream team I’d want to bring out for a long weekend, now we look at the nightmare squad.
Who? Pete Dunham. Green Street Hooligans.
Green Street Hooligans is a lot like Fight Club, it’s about a boy who goes looking for how to become a man in a world that doesn’t have any use for them, but his search brings him to all the wrong places. They’re both gleeful adolescent fantasies until halfway through the third act when the movies ask “is this really what you want?”
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