My college buddies are all getting together this summer for a bachelor weekend. No one is getting married this year [looks around nervously], but fuck it, right? We're gonna make it like a thing. These married types can't leave the house without punching in the passcode on their wives' security system every fifteen minutes so it has to be an event. It's like I went to college with Desmond from Lost.
So it's gonna be a blast, because these things always are. Drinking shitty beer all day like we're 19 years old again, playing poker, wiffle ball, sleeping in a ball of laundry on the floor because some other asshole called dibs on one of the two beds in the house six months early, rehashing decade old grievances with drunken emotional wrecks whose balls you've seen more times than your own. That's just the first night.
But I digress. The thing is I have to mail a check to my one buddy who put the deposit down on the house we're renting. I've been meaning to do it for like two weeks, but I just can't muster the energy. Have you mailed anything recently? Do you have any idea how much work this shit entails? First I've got to reach over into that drawer right there, then look for my check book. Then I've got to find a pen. Guuuuh. Now I'm exhausted. What am I Hercules? Has some spiteful deity scorned me? Where is the fucking pen? After all that I've got to write on the check, then rip it out of the thing without destroying it, which happens 3 times out of 5. Then I've got to find a stamp. Who the hell has stamps just sitting around the house? Where do you keep them, next to the cistern and the butter churner? Someone fucking kill me now, I can't go on. Of course that's before we even get to writing the address on the envelope thing, which, have you tried writing anything lately? With your hands and a pen? Twelve letters in I've got carpal tunnel syndrome. Fuck it, I'm just gonna drive out to whatever suburb my man lives in and slide the cash under his door and slink away into the shadows before anyone sees me. Like I used to do in college.
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11 comments:
The sole reason I have such shit credit is businesses that demand enveloped forms of payment. Well, that and businesses that are gullible enough to extend me credit. Suckers.
See ya in anothah life (when you slip the check undah mah door), bruddah!
Think I might send it tomorrow. Depending on how good a night's rest I get tonight. Need to build up some energy.
Dibs on the bed.
hoof. dibs on the dirty floor
He got an email address? Paypal it.
that sounds too logical.
Thanks for the invite, but I'll have to pass.
The preferoration on checks is a mother fucker. Apparently that's not a word now? Godamn Obama.
How do you fold that thing without it ripping into a thousands shreds?
A thousand Shreds
Zack Wells Experience
O'Briens, Tuesday, 1 z.m., $q, 0+
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