Ask A Drunk Guy Who Needs To Get Something Off His Chest

Dear Drunk Guy Who Needs To Get Something Off His Chest,

I’m a single mom with a 2-year-old son, and the people in the apartment above us play loud music that wakes him from his naps. They turn it down when I ask, but the volume always goes back up a few minutes later. The landlord, unfortunately, refuses to get involved. Is it time to file a noise complaint with the police? My little guy needs his sleep! —Cautious In Concord

Dear Cautious,

Okay. So, listen. You are, like, one of my best friends. Seriously. You’re, like, such a good person. Anybody in this bar asks me, I’ll tell ’em straight up: This guy is the best! You’re the best, and that’s why the drinks are on me tonight. All of the drinks. So, dude, you know I’ll always tell you the truth, right? Because honesty is everything to me. Everything. So. I really wanna tell you something. I really wanna—hey, okay, let’s just do one more shot first.

Dear Drunk Guy Who Needs To Get Something Off His Chest,

I wrote in a few months ago about getting my kids to help with the chores, and I wanted to let you know your advice worked like a charm! Not only are they chipping in around the house more, but I’ve noticed an increase in their self-esteem and overall work ethic. Thank you so much for your help—now if only I could get my husband to take your advice!

—Grateful In Georgia

Dear Grateful,

It’s so damn good to see you, man. Like, for real, I’ve been wanting to talk to you for fuckin’ ever. Since, like, Evan’s wedding. What was that, two years ago? Three years? Holy shit, dude. We’re getting older. Fuck. We’re, like, becoming our dads. Where’d that bartender go? Whew! Fuckin’ Jim Beam, man. Beam me up, Scotty! Ha ha. Your dad was always good to me, though. Your mom, too. You’ve got a great family, dude. And your sister. Ashley. Man, she’s like…no offense, but you’re lucky she’s your sister. Seriously. She ever mention me?

Dear Drunk Guy Who Needs To Get Something Off His Chest,

I run a small art gallery, and next month we’re opening a new space with work by some very important artists. Unfortunately, my parents have never approved of my life choices and are still angry with me for not joining the family construction business. I really want to invite them to my opening, but we haven’t spoken in over a year and I’m scared they’ll say no. What should I do?

—Prospering In Provo

Dear Prospering,

I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, listen. Look, look, look. Listen. I know.

Look. Wait, you see that guy there? That guy. He’s got the same fuckin’ shoes as me. You see that? Same shoes! Same fuckin’ color and everything. Listen, man, I’m so glad we’re having this conversation.

Dear Drunk Guy Who Needs To Get Something Off His Chest,

My husband is retiring at the end of the year, and while I’ve been encouraging him to pick up some hobbies, he just won’t listen. He tends to get depressed without something to occupy his time, though he’d never admit it. (His father was the same way!) How can I gently nudge him into a healthy pastime?

—Determined In Denver

Dear Determined,

Sometimes, like, I will just look in the mirror and stare at myself and have, like, no idea who I’m even looking at. You ever do that? It’s, like, fuuuuuuuuuck, you know? Because I know I’m there—I know, like, I’m fuckin’ real and shit. But I try to look into the eyes, and those eyes, they’re just staring back at me, but, like, there’s nothing. Just fuckin’…nothing. Hey, I gotta take a piss. You good or do you need another?

Dear Drunk Guy Who Needs To Get Something Off His Chest,

After four years, my girlfriend and I finally got a place together, and I couldn’t be happier. The only problem is, she’s making the spare room all nice and tidy so her sister can stay over when she visits from Asheville, and I’d rather just have it be a chill spot where I can relax and play video games. Shouldn’t I have more say in the matter? Help!

  —Restless In Raleigh

Dear Restless,

I’d fuckin’ take a bullet for you. For real. For you, and for your sister. I love—I love you. So, like, I gotta come clean about this shit. Because I literally love you and would die for you, so I can’t live with myself if I’m not, like, 100% honest with you. Come here, man. Look at me. Oh fuck. Listen. Ready? Okay. So…oh shit, is this Outkast? This is my jam. My baby don’t mess around because she messed around and she don’t know what for! That’s André 3000! I love André 3000. And you, and your family. It’s all love, man.  

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