My Life Isn’t Exciting Enough to Keep This Blog Going

It’s been a fun six months of telling my stories to you, my faithful readers.  But now I am faced with a reality that I cannot escape: my life isn’t exciting enough to keep this blog going indefinitely.  Consider the following obstacles facing me:

— I didn’t start drinking until I was about 22, and didn’t become a full-blown lush until around 23, 24.  So I have no college stories worth telling.  (Unless you want to hear about the agony and the heartbreak of being an Illini fan.  Trust me, you don’t.)

— I was a virgin until I was 26 years old.  I know, I know, fucking pathetic.  I lay most of the blame on my previous point.  Had I drank in college I’m absolutely certain I’d have bagged at least a couple sorostitutes.  It’d be almost impossible not to.  But I didn’t, so again, no good college stories.

— I’ve lived in End Of The World, Utah for nearly five years now.  Although I’ve made the best of it, it’s not exactly the good life.  Few bars and even fewer promiscuous women make it hard to create good stories.  Does anyone want to read about last Saturday night, when we all sat around my poker table and did Power Hour, followed by more drinking games?  No one puked, got laid, got arrested, or even took their clothes off.  As Officer Barbrady would say, “Move along, nothing to see here!”

— And last, in one of life’s cruel little ironies, I am now in a relationship.  In the first 34 years of my life, during which I was single for roughly 98% of, I collected some good stories, mostly of my epic failures.  And I wrote a great many of them down.  I had long considered starting a blog to relate these stories.  But I didn’t get serious about it until last winter.  I spent a couple weeks re-writing stories (mostly changing names to protect the guilty), worked diligently on picking out my theme and layout and all that stuff, all with the intention of launching at the New Year.  So what happened?  I went home for Christmas… and met a girl in a shitty dive bar in my hometown on Christmas night.  Just in time to make my entire blog a lie.  I’ve stuck with the title of “Single White Alcoholic” on the technicality that my marital status remains “single.”  But, truth be told, I’ve been living a lie this whole time.  I really should change the name to “Neutered White Alcoholic.”

So… what to do?  I still have some stories squirreled away, don’t get me wrong.  Like the water polo player I hooked up with on the dance floor of a country western bar.  Or the night in Vegas when I met a girl who wanted me to go home with her but had to check and see if her boyfriend was in the mood to watch.

But my inventory is shrinking.  And since the girlfriend has forbidden me to write anymore about her, it doesn’t look like it will be replenished anytime soon.

So I’m going to try something.  An experiment of sorts.  For the next week or two I’m going to try and tell some of my friends’ best stories.  Most of these stories I was at least tangentially a part of, but I’m still not sure if I’ll be able to convey my normal wit, sarcasm and emotions onto other people’s stories.  But I’m gonna give it a try.  And I have one story a friend sent me that I was sorely tempted to steal and make my own, but I figure I’ve lied enough already, taking credit for another man’s conquest would bring some bad, bad karma down upon my head.

First stories should be up in the next couple days.  Let me know what you think!

(Thanks to for so many of the great Demotivators I employ in my posts.)


1 Comment

  1. I have run into the same problem on my blog. My life as a Married Neutered White Alcoholic Cop is just not exciting enough for a daily post.Or is it? Shit that I find boring and mundane, others might find exciting. I worked the Thanksgiving Day Parade this year. I measured the wind for the balloons. Exciting? Fuck no. Not to me anyway, but is it worth writing post for someone in Bum-fuck Nebraska to enjoy? Have I written too much for a comment? Yes. I am going to shut the fuck up now and read the next post.

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