We've all been there, after a night out amongst the seeming masses. Alcohol may have played a small part, but more likely it played a starring fucking role! You know, the kind of role where they hand the Oscar to your grieving widow the next year? Well, this blog is about the morning after. It's about cleaning up after Katrina has devasted the 9th ward of your soul. The mornings when the voicemail and text alerts come pouring in from your exes, current love interests, and that one crazy girl you only call when Jack Daniels reminds you that even though she is bat-shit crazy, she's crazy in bed too.
That's not to say that this is yet another blog in a long line of "fratire". Will there be the occasional tale of debauchery? of course, why else would anyone pay attention to this otherwise? But before you click to another page, take a minute to get to know me and why I am starting this blog...
My name is Jon Mendel. I'm 27, working in sales, and living in Chicago. For a guy my age I'm told I'm doing alright. The reason you are going to want to keep reading is that I'm frequently "that guy". I don't go out of my way to be "that guy" but when I'm out with my friends I am more apt to making a fool of myself. Why? The simple answer is I don't care about what others think when I'm having a good time, but as the title of this blog implies, I always do the next morning. I am not Tucker Max, that is to say I don't coast through life regaling others with stories of my sexual conquests that usually end with a girl covered in feces, and shame. I'm also not overtly an asshole. Being "that guy" when I get drunk means I laugh loudly and make new friends whom I almost never remember. It means I hit on women especially once alcohol has robbed my conscience of its ability to speak. And it means that in purusit of a good time, I have more often than not put myself in a situation that has effectively killed my career in politics long before it could ever start.
But somewhere between college and adulthood, my friends thought I should write some of my stories down as they happen, since out of all my friends I am the only one who gets into these types of situations. Although I am starting to think that maybe I am just a better storyteller....
So I will use this corner of cyberspace to share all of the activities of my life, the horrendous dates, the nights out, and the collatoral damage the next morning. As an added bonus I'm throwing in my thoughts on life, politics, and what's wrong with everyone except myself. Consider this post a half-assed introduction to what hopefully, will become a place you can come to read about someone who makes you laugh. Or at the very least someone who makes you feel better about your life, the way Snookie getting punched in the face made me feel better about not being a guido. If you think my writing style sucks, deal with it this is the first post and I'm sure it will evolve over time into something you might actually laugh at. Cheers...
