Guido Culture

Monday, Monday, Monday. Arghh. If I get one more email that has that ridiculous freaking red exclamation mark, I’m going to throw myself down the stairs. “This email was sent with high importance.” Who the fuck says? You are not highly important to me and neither is this email. Delete.

Do weekends ever make you more tired than you were before? Me too, always.

This weekend boyfriend and I met some fellow recent college grads at a sports bar on Washington called Brixx. We like this place because it is a laid back football crowd rather than a clubby scene of Guido juicehead monsters. There is a much larger juicehead population in Houston than I had anticipated. I figured being in the South I was at a safe distance from Guido Culture. Wrong. They bounce their way through the Houston club scene and party-boy on babes at the gym. Consequently, I hear enough of them growling and grunting at the gym, I’m really not interested in seeing their mating rituals on the weekends as well. Neighborhood bars are much more predictable and safe.

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Most of the neighborhood bars in Houston are open air so we sat outside and because it is October in Houston, it was 90 degrees so we got molested by an industrial fan that misted water periodically. This was fun for like 5 minutes.

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Mmmm…Relaxation.

Either way, a few draught brews in, I hardly notice the man-eating fan.

I’ve realized that working 8-5 makes day drinking extremely socially acceptable and borderline necessary. What I’ve also realized is that Houstonians party, EVERY NIGHT. The youth of Houston finds reasons to party seven days a week no matter what responsibilities they may or may not have. I imagine they are all heirs and just shit one million dollar bills and that enables them to party every night and neglect all grown up-isms. I think this is because I'm jealous. The reasons, I’ve observed, are as follows:

Friday = obvious, unless you’re a cop or a nurse.

Saturday = College football

Sunday = NFL

Monday =NFL

Tuesday = it’s almost the weekend?

Wednesday = hump day. ha ha, get it? Because HUMP?

Thursday = honorary weekend day 

Obviously, boyfriend and I aren’t cool enough to take the seven day party route, but we do what we can to conform. Saturday was one of those days. Our Brixx group consisted of a people from my college, several from his high school and then some misfit college grads new to Houston (why I don’t categorize myself into this group? Because I’m writing this, fuckers. I get to be who I want). Regardless of who belongs where, we all proceed to get completely shat-faced. It’s pretty obnoxious how a group of semi-strangers can turn into best friends after everyone has had 11-16 beers. See? It was that easy to make friends. After an expensive bar tab and lots of drunken over-share, we stumble over to a mutual friend’s house to repeat the pattern. Sophistication.

Either way, the whole day/night was a blast. I feel like I am starting to belong to a small niche of people here in Houston, and isn’t that everything? Having a sense of belonging can really do wonders for your psyche.

Sorry this was a bit all over the place. Rainbows and butterflies!

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