We were doomed from the beginning. I was packing my bags, heading home, and leaving the state. She had her bags packed before she left her last date. Neither of us were ready for anything real. Without even looking for it we stumbled across a flower blooming in a dark room and we trusted it.

From the start we found this spark that instantly lit a fire that kept on burning. One date one night all of a sudden turned into two. Then the second turned into a third and before either of us even realized it we we weren’t spending any nights away without each other by our side. Our love was this drug that we both become addicted to.

As all good drugs take you to this new euphoric high they also can bring you down to a dark new rock bottom you may have never known. Our high wore off, our flame burnt out, and she went right as I went left with my bags packed. The rose that we once found blossoming was now brittle and lost it color when our paths separated.

After spending everyday together for as long as we did, those couple months we had to spend apart felt like an eternity. We only talked to keep in touch. There was thousand of miles between us and a whole city there to help the both of us move forward and grow. Just like we started off, we didn’t need each other. We just wanted each other.

The distance between us and all that time away didn’t do anything to push us apart. All those miles and all those minutes that gone by us, only helped to solidify that feeling we knew we found on our first date. We had no business spending time together but look at where we are now.

Things have come a long way with my niece ever since I’ve moved back home. When I was living a thousand miles away she didn’t even care about me. I mean I don’t even think she knew about me. Why would she, she’s almost two and I still have yet to get her a gift. The distance is no excuse anymore and now that she can open boxes or gifts on her own neither is the lack of presents.

Now that I’m back home, I’m aspiring to be her favorite Drunkal. Which, if you know my brothers, isn’t too difficult of an endeavor. One of my brothers is still living a thousand miles away so I’m already steps in front of him. My other brother hasn’t gone to see my niece nearly as much as I have. Since I’ve become such a familiar face, it’s becoming more and more evident that I’m becoming my niece’s favorite Drunkal.

I have been over there to see her every chance I can to remain at the top of her favorite Drunkal list. It’s only a matter of time until she starts saying my name first. She is already starting to say “toy” on her own. All she has to do is add an R in there and she’ll be saying my name before any of my brothers. Solidifying what I’ve thought the whole time… I’m my niece’s favorite Drunkal.

If my sister’s oldest niece doesn’t say my name first it’s okay. I can’t hold it against her. She’s not even my Goddaughter. But if my Goddaughter, anyone else’s name first before mine it’s a different story. I’ll be revoking my Godfather duties and leaving them entirely up to my brothers. Those nieces are their problems until they can say, “Troy you’re the best drunkal ever!” I mean all they have to do is add one more letter in my name… it’s not even a full syllable.

We didn’t bother to smoke on the way to the restaurant. It was so close I barely had enough time to bite off the nail I had on my index finger. Certainly there wasn’t nearly enough time for us to smoke too. So before we left we burned it down one more time like we were Cheech and Chong. All we had to do to mask our skunky smell was take a few shots of cologne right before we left. We figured it would be best to not stink up an entire restaurant on a Tuesday night.

We walked into the restaurant and saw only two other parties sitting near our tale. It felt like we were walking through this library and no one was allowed to talk louder than thirty decibels. There was this one couple seated at the corner looking like they were having the worst time ever on their date. Or I should say at least the guy didn’t look like he was having the best time sitting next to this lady on the same side of the booth.

The other table was full with a family of eight, three generations of kin, ranging from a Great Depression survivor grandma to the youngest who seemed like this high schooler struggling with our modern depression. A family outing where the most exciting conversation is about starting calculus in math! I heard one of their conversations start with; “How was your day, how’s school going for you?” I was able to gather all this within the first five or ten minutes of us being there. Their conversations were non-existent and seemed to be dying out until the waiter came over to take our order.

Their lame and unenthusiastic conversations that these tables were having quickly transformed into some more as soon as they smelt us in the room. We thought we took every precaution to mask our scent and didn’t reek like we typically do, but to those ignorant noses that were around us that night, we must have turned that place into a Cypress Hill concert to them.

It seemed to spark something in the couple next to us and they turned those frowns upside down. It was like our aroma took them back to better their times and they both smiled at each other for the first time all night. The family behind us on the other hand despised not just our fragrance but weed entirely. We enjoyed our dinner higher than a Giraffe’s Ass, stuffing our faces with gourmet steak,, while listening to this grandma and mother “educate” their kids on how bad “ the weed” is for you.

I enjoyed listening to their banter. The naysayers always have some interesting theories on the effect it may have on us but truthfully I just felt bad for those kids that had to sit there and listen to this rant as if they haven’t already heard it a million times already. Are these parents so naive that they think their kids don’t even know what cannabis is? The only time I had an urge to butt into their conversation was when the mother mentioned something about this thirty four percent thc cannabis.

I didn’t care what example she was hoping to set for her kids or whatever movies she said little Johnny spent the whole day on the couch watching. All I wanted to know was where the hell was she finding such pure cannabis out here on the streets. Sure yeah I get it maybe they aren’t spokesmans for weed but I’m willing to bet my last dollar that they love money just as much as the next guy does. It took everything in me not to ask them to be my new plug. Think about all the Benjamins we could be making.

I have always thought girls were crazy. I mean know better than to say that to any of their faces, but I know crazy. It takes one to know one you know, and as much as I claim to be sane, history proves tells otherwise. I always thought it was crazy that a girl could wake up from a dream and start World War III over something I did in their dreams. I mean yeah maybe if we don’t go to the restaurant I want I would there sit in silence for the tenure meal miserably but that’s not nearly as bad as waking up and having to fight for your life.

I just didn’t believe the whole nightmare thing until it happened to me. Seeing is believe and after seeing it for the first time I believe it. Some nightmares can feel so tangible that we feel them in our hearts and wake up hating the world. I woke up that morning from a nightmare that felt like a day in my life. My two hour sleep was full of this roller coaster of emotions that I could feel. Some that woke me up in tears of misery and resentment.

It was in that moment I complete understood every girl that has yelled at me first thing in the morning. Hell even the ones that have woke me up by yelling at me…listen I get it now. I woke up that morning from that nightmare and had to sleep on the couch to keep myself from freaking out.

I think this may be crazy to admit but they’re right. Girls that is, it’s totally justified to wake up from a nightmare with gun blazing and walls built. I think you need to go through it to completely comprehend what it’s like to go to sleep blissfully and wake up miserably heartbroken.

I guess my message, to guys in particularly, let’s just be a little more understanding. Yeah we may not have done whatever happened in her dream, but she felt it and we’e their lighting rod. Just ride it out until they apologize for yelling at you that way. Shit if you never hear that apology you better be packing bags and find someone that knows the decipher the difference between a dream version of you and the real version of you. I know the fight was unwarranted and after expressing those initial feelings. I apologized because after all it was only a dream.

Is there’s no secret to love. Love is defined as this intense feeling of deep affection. Love is simple, it’s when you care more about someone else then you do about yourself. We may not love everyone we meet, hell we don’t have to. Of course we may love some more than others and that’s natural, that’s love. You know you found that something special once their love becomes your priority.

Aside form Webster’s, there’s no way to define it. It leaves us lost for words, I mean ask anyone you know and they’ll all say the same thing; “Ahh well when you know you know you know.” It’s like that special kind of love always seems to come around when you least expect it. One minute your wondering who is around to hangout with to canceling all of your plans to be with that person you want to hangout with.

Life seems to have a funny way with timing. All this time you spend growing on your own becoming independent and strong enough to fly on your own, cupid comes around and hits you with his arrow when you’re least expecting it. One moment you’re the center of your whole universe and then in the blink of an eye there’s someone that you care about in a way you’ve never felt.

It’s this love you never anticipated. There you are on a date being yourself unconcerned with their perception of you, sub consciously speaking honestly, building a foundation for a relationship you’ve only dreamt about. You’re talking about things that caused fights before, you’re being yourself without being any judgement, and someones feelings that suddenly dictate your life in all the best ways. This love that climbs to the top of the list, someone who becomes someone that you care more about than you do yourself.

Love is something you constantly have to work for but when you find it are you ever actually working? Or are you just doing what you love? I guess in simplest forms is; you don’t go out being flowers because you guys had this destructive fight the night before. No you come home with flowers because you just wanted to give her another reason to smile. There’s no secret to love. All love is is caring for someone more than you care about yourself.

I’m a little older than I used to be but it doesn’t change the fact that I still consider myself an athlete. Part of me still believes I can compete at the same high level I once was at. I’ve been reluctant to accept the fact that farther time is there breathing down my neck waiting to catch up to me. I was the kid that wouldn’t even want to smell alcohol during the season. Fast forward ten years later and I’ve essentially become the kid that puts the “fun” in functional degenerate.

With hindsight being twenty twenty now, after being on both sides of the argument; playing sports scares me more than experimenting with drugs. The only real preventative measure I have to injuries was just more training. I spent so much time playing sports my body was always in competitive shape. I was never coming fresh off the couch.

For awhile there I was avoiding a different couch, the one that has socially been labeled as “low tolerance.” I’ve spent the past few years of my life speeding through the fast lane saying yes to whatever anyone has offered me, just to keep the partying going. Partying like I was so I would never lose the tolerance that made me so cool.

Now look at me, a man that calls himself an athlete and a fool who thinks he can still keep up in the fast lane to timid to do anything. Playing sports is scarier to me than going to hard in the weekends. If I’m in the fast lane speeding like a madmen at least I’m in control of what happens. If I’m out there playing basketball and land on someone’s foot and can’t walk for four months, there’s nothing I can do about that.

All I’m saying is that I’ve officially become old enough that working out and playing sports scares me way more than taking the wrong drug. I know first hand that it’s way easier to cure a hangover than it is to heal a high ankle sprain

Does anyone actually save money? I feel like that is all I hear; “I hope you’re saving your money” or “How much money have you been saving?” “I’m saving for this boat” or house or whatever. We’re all saving, but has anyone actually saved enough?

Maybe it’s just me but I feel like if I sneeze in public I’ll owe someone money. I’e become that cheap asshole who currently has one tissue in my tissue box. Why do I know I have one tissue left you may ask and great question! I put it back in the box a month ago and have been using toilet paper ever since. I figured why spend my money on tissues when I have TP. I also haven’t had any friends or guest over recently, hence why I’ve been able to keep the one tissue for so long.

I pay myself with every paycheck I get with the intention of “saving it” we time but in reality I find myself transferring it all back out of my savings l just to pay all my bills. I’ve gone back to those Easy Mac/ Ramen dinners like I had when I first moved out and it has made that much of a difference financially. By just doing that I saved damn near two hundred dollars on groceries. I’ll finally be able to use all that extra money to go to Costco and buy some tissues in bulk. Apparently is the better way to buy.

Saving money is impossible, is anyone good at it?

I’ve had my fair share of dates through the years. I feel like they can all be simply placed place into two definitive categories; they’re either good dates or they’re either bad dates. At this point in my life it’s hard to say whether or not I’ve had more of one or the other, but either way they’ve all been moments that have led me here today.

In my days of dating I’ve learnt one thing for sure and that is that day dates never tend to end well. The only time they have ever worked out for me or in my experience is when you’re on a date with someone that you’re actually in a relationship with. And even then it’s not guaranteed that things are as serious as they seem.

For instance, I met this girl for drinks before she had to go meet her friends for dinner one day. It had been this girl I was crushing on back in the day and didn’t care if I met her for coffee first thing in the morning, I was around to meet her whenever she told me. We met locally for lunch, tossed back a few drinks, and hit it off better than I think either of us expected. The half hour she originally penciled me into her schedule turned into an hour and a half of us together. She pushed whatever plans she had later to keep the night on with me.

We took our date from the bar back to my place so we could enjoy every last second we had together. I didn’t know when she had to leave and I wasn’t going to bring it up. She was here and I was in no position to complain about what was going on. To this point in the afternoon our date has checked almost every box on the “good date” column off. The only box I had checked off on the “bad date” side was the fact that we had a day date.

I knew it was going to come to an end shortly with her other plans and I figured we had enough fun together that we would be able to do it again. Maybe in a more formal date matter than just meeting for a late brunch. There she was putting her clothes back on in my room as I lay under the covers asking her what her plans were for the rest of the night.

In a moment of weakness and vulnerability she slipped up and told me that she had dinner plans with her boyfriend in an hour. There were no friends she was pushing off to go meet… It was her significant other. She had no intentions of showering, no intentions of changing her clothes or adjusting her makeup, she was going from my bedroom straight to his and I felt terrible. This poor guy has no idea that when he goes to kiss his girl all over that night that he’s getting all of my sloppy seconds… fresh.

That was what solidified for me. you can never trust a day date. If it was a real date you would be going out with her friends or at night with her when people normally go out for dates.

I pretend to be smart, pretentious if you would. I watch documentaries and recite everything I heard from them as if they’re my own “fun facts” for days. It’s not me being smart in any sense of the way. The only thing I’m doing I’ve proved is how well I can retain information for about a week long. Hence why I’ve been able to do so well on tests in school.

My girl thinks she’s slick. I won’t deny that she is far more knowledgeable when it comes to cooking and vegetables in general, so I tend to listen to her when she speaks. If she thinks I need to cut up another piece of garlic I’ll believe it, if she thinks I need to add a little more sugar, you can bet your last dollar I’ll be adding some sugar. I’ll stump her with stupid dumb facts that you’ll never need to know while she fills my brain with cooking advice turning me into a Master Chef.

She’s slick, but she’s not smart enough to sneak any ole “fact” by mean. Yeah I’lltake her advice with cooking stuff but when she tries to slip some random facts about animals or history I have to fact check them. I’ll admit every now and then she throws me for a loop and wows me, but not anymore.

Just the other day she insisted I buy these yellow kiwis because she heard they were “healthier for you.” This was her forte, if she said they were healthier for you who was I to question her. It was a fun fact I planned on using the next day at work… once. That night her late night snack wasn’t ice cream like it always is but instead it was that yellow kiwi she was so passionate about. Something she couldn’t help but reiterate it.

“Did you know that yellow kiwi’s have almost double the amount of vitamin C?” A more concrete fact than just saying they’re healthier so I had to believe. I was not in position to question her the first time she brought it up and now hearing her use numbers and nutritions facts, I had no reason to disbelieve it.

Circle back three hours later, after she went to bed and I finally made my way to the kitchen to shut off the lights and see the kiwi’s container sitting on the counter. In an act to preserve their ripeness for her, put the cover on the package, and went to put them back in the fridge.

I opened the fridge and had to move the eggs out of her way to make room for her fruit when I finally saw the label for the first time. It read; “Yellow Kiwis, nearly twice the amount of vitamin C then a regular kiwi.” in big bold letters you could read it from across the supermarket. I’ve been bamboozled.

There I was believing that all these things she was telling me were things she learnt on her own. Things she knew. I had no idea that she was just spending another thirty seconds longer than me reading a label on a box finding something obscure to mention. This whole time I have given her credit for teaching me something new on her aspirations to become more knowledgeable, just to be utterly and completely disappointed to see that she was only reading to me the labels in our fridge.

The only good thing that has come from all of this disappointment and heartbreak is now I know exactly what I can get her for her birthday. It seems like all she needs is a 365 day calendar with a new fact every day so she can be as pretentious as I am, wowing all of our friends with a stupid fact that no one even cares to know about.

This is the year of checking off our goals. We’ve all had plenty of time “having fun” with life. We’ve had our chances to travel. We’ve had our moments living in a land far far away. We’ve had our hearts stolen, falling completely in love before, only to have our hearts broken in the end. We have been through this game of life and although we may still be kids at heart, we have matured, and it’s time to grow up.

We’ve seen enough in our lives to know exactly what it is we desperately desire. We all know exactly how to build the home we’ve always dreamt about. The happy life we’ve always envisioned is right there, now more than ever, for our taking. It’s no longer you vs the world. Now is the time of you vs you.

If you want to live that luxurious life like they do in the movies then go after it and get it. No one is going to give it to you nor will anyone be willing to help you until you make a name for yourself. If you want to have that family waiting for you at your house, a house that you call home, then go find that someone to love. Go find someone that gives you a why to all of the things you do in your life.

We are past the point of playing all those childish games (excluding Yahtzee, Jenga, and Uno of course.) It doesn’t matter who has their two cents to throw at us or how much slower or faster someone else may be making their dreams a reality than us. It’s about us. Nothing comes overnight. It’ll only come to us if we give it our all and chase our dreams and never settle for less.

2023 is our year. Opportunity has been knocking on the door, our dreams are calling off the hook waiting for us to answer, and all we have to do is let them in. Our passion is what drives us, our happiness is what defines us, and we’ll make our dreams a reality. This is our year.

How old were you when you found out that Santa wasn’t real? Was it from an older cousin accidentally spilling the beans or from some bully at school that ruined the folklore for you? Were you one of those kids who found out themselves and shattered everyone else’s dreams or keep it a secret so they could believe another year longer? I was of those kids who thought he out smarted his parents and found out there wasn’t a guy sliding down chimneys deliver my Christmas gifts… it was my parents.

After confronting my parents about the randomly locked room we had in our basement strictly in the month of December, we thought it was best that I kept this secret from my younger brother for a few more years. That day I found out Santa wasn’t real was the day I took it upon myself to spread all the Christmas cheer I could.

Since the unveiling of good ole Saint Nick, I have taken the reins of Santa Clause around my family. Year after year I would be the one all dressed up in the Santa suit for all the kids. I’d yell out, “Ho, ho, ho, Merry Christmas.” sounding just like I was the big guy himself. I’d have to sneak away from the party, slip into my Santa suit like I was Superman, and go hand out gifts to everyone as if I was Oprah.

This year, since everyone was older, I figured that my Santa Clause tradition was over. It was the first year I didn’t have that responsibility and I was enjoying myself. My drinks were stronger and the joints were fatter and I was relaxing. In a way I never have before. Damn was it short lived though.

It was immediately after I made myself a fresh mixie my sister asked me if I was ready to wear the suit. A question I clearly wasn’t expecting to hear, but I could’t let my family down. The Santa Suit only fit me and there was no way we were going to have a Christmas without Santa.. not on my watch.

I slipped out from the party, stuffed a pillow under my red coat, and snuck out of the back door to ring the doorbell of my sisters house. Instantly my cousin opened the door, acting all surprised like they never seen Santa before, eager to let me inside. I bellowed out my best, “Ho, ho,ho,” and proceeded putting on the show I always have.

We were only doing this whole Santa gimmick for my youngest cousin. Turns out we underestimated his smartness. Instead of being flabbergasted like a kid normally would be at the sight of Santa, he was yearning to interrogate me. I could see it in his eyes as he sat on my lap. He wasn’t there to talk about Christmas gifts, or whether or not he was on the naughty or nice list. All he wanted to know was; “What kind of imposter I was and where is the real Santa?”

He knew that Santa doesn’t just go around ringing doorbells to hand deliver gifts. This is the same guy that slides down chimneys to deliver present while everyone is sleeping. He knew that Santa wouldn’t be able to waste his time on Christmas Eve to stop and hangout with our family specifically. This kid could see through every hole in our story and was exploiting me.

I passively pushed him off my leg, passed out the last gift to my much older cousin, and dashed through the door like I was Blitzen. I striped down from my Santa outfit, back into my Christmas finest, and made it back to the party before my cousin finished opening his gift.

It was like he could feel my eyes piercing him and he dropped his gift to approach me before he finished opening it. He asked me where I was, knowing damn well I was missing from the party while Santa was here. He knew what was going on and I had no way of talking my way out of it. All I could do was give him something else to think about, “Listen kid you gotta think of it like this, I’m not saying I am or aren’t Santa Clause, I’m just saying you’ve nerve seen me and Santa Clause together at the same time. Where was your Uncle tonight anyway?”

He walked away with his mind in a pretzel. I either completely ruined Christmas for him or got another four years of him still believing in good Ole Saint Nick. I guess we’ll find out next year.