Monday, July 26, 2004
The Really Simple Life

So long, Atlanta, GA; hello, Huntington Beach, CA. Arriving in the midst of the idyllic summer of 2004, I exist in a sort of limbo. I have my two cats, a suitcase, and this laptop as I pass time waiting for all my shit to be shipped out from the East Coast in "less than fourteen business days". Margaritas and bong rips may have impaired my better judgment the night before I left, so I mistakenly packed only five sets of clothes. I am attempting to master the ancient hippie art of wearing the same outfit for a week at a time to conserve. Needless to say, I am pretty ripe. I find it funny that girls who are really into you love "your smell" while the rest of them just think you smell. It must be a pheromone thing, I guess.

However, in true CJ style, I have been shit-hammered drunk every day I've been in Cali.

When I write Jay's Big Book of Lies, I've already picked my top three deceptions of all time:

1. The check's in the mail.
2. Let go out and have a drink.
3. No, I won't cum in your mouth.

Rule one and three are self explanatory, but number two is a different animal. Nobody goes out for a drink. You get a drink, then you get another one, then another, then, next thing you know, you are blacked out singing misogynistic karaoke remixes of "Knock-Knock-Knocking Up Some Whore" to a mob of angry lesbians while simultaneously puking blood and tacos on your shoes.

Trust me, I've been there.

Now, since we are talking about drinking, we have a mantra here in the OC: "Don't drink and drive because the cops here are Nazis… they'll beat your ass." Personally, I would rather catch a little bit of "stick time" over winding up in the meat grinder we call the justice system -- it's far more brutal.

You can trust me on that one too.

In my new life as a semi-law-abiding citizen, I don't drink and drive anyway. DUI Nazis are not unique to OC -- it's slowly getting like that everywhere. I actually drive a little bit better after a few drinks, but the whole "driving while impaired" game is such a major money racket for so many counties, they hand out DUI citations like HIV in San Francisco.

Before you fire up the caps lock to send me an infuriated email about how someone you know was killed by a drunk driver, please understand I am not talking about 2.5 BAC killing-machines. They are menaces and deserve to feel the force of the DUI juggernaut. I'm talking about the average person that had three or four drinks with dinner, and the misfortune of winding up in a "sobriety checkpoint". Once you get in the system, you are just as fucked as the 2.5 guy.

My advice is, take a cab and get REALLY WASTED. You'll have a better time and won't have to sweat spending time in the Graybar Motel. With all of that said, who is a bigger risk to the public: me after three drinks, or some Asian bitch yammering away on a cell phone and not paying attention to traffic?

It really doesn't matter, because I won't be driving after drinking anything – you'll find me wiping the vomit off my Chuck Taylors and hopping in a cab.

Drinking and Driving is bad, mmkay?