Monday, October 24, 2011

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One Of My Friends Stole The TV Remote From My House

*Crawled out of birthday weekend with a majority of my dignity gone and a few tendons in my hamstring potentially torn. Thanks for all the birthday wishes everyone.

On average I'd say a typical dude "loses" the remote twice a week. And by lose, I mean that shit is absolutely gone. Most likely it's in some weird purgatory between the couch springs and the floor that is literally unreachable. Unfortunately the Y-chromosome causes us to treat a lost remote like a tragedy comparable to a missing baby. So we go through some weird internal dialogue saying, "Odds are my arm will get stuck and/or torn to shreds reaching for this thing, but I think it's kinda worth it" and "I'll just change the channel manually." Both ideas are unrealistic and outrageous. The one thing that we can always count on is the fact that the remote, like a mildly loyal cat, will always return. Except when your fucking friend gets black out drunk, puts it in his pocket and goes home.

I almost called in a terrorist alert I was so hysterical. Screaming out the window at random people asking if they've seen my remote. We've all been drunk, but have you ever been "casually steal a remote" drunk? Bizarre.