West coast weekends are nothing and everything like those on the East coast. Of course you have your typical Thursday night cocktail followed by far to many bud light’s which are rationalized by the fact that it is “just a beer” in contrast to the Friday night Jager bombs which are much more hardcore. All this follows the Friday hangover, dinner, pre-game session which lasts two hours and usually consists of downing as many drinks as you can for the two main reasons that it is easier to save money and you need to be loaded to go wherever the destination is that night. The rest of the night is filled with mindless conversations, outrageous situations, and many bodily connections that we should want to forget however we cant really remember them to forget them anyway. The rest of the weekend is filled with text message delayed responses, ramen noodles, and sex in the city episodes when Mr. Big was still a mystery man. The difference between the coasts however is that the Thursday feeling of excitement, invincibility to alcohol, lack of any and all shame, and the desire to say “YES” to the two toothed freak asking if he can buy you a drink, is not just limited to Thursdays here on the west coast. Yes this irrational and incredible ideology is never wavering. This is the soul difference between the coasts. No matter where you go, if alcohol is being served, there is bound to be people drinking that alcohol. But the west coast not only expects but invites you to dive into those happy hour two-for-one, three dollar you call it specials and happy, we oblige.

To all of this I say. Go for it. So you move out here, you learn how to love coupons and discount food items, but most of all you learn how to drink everyday and still be a fully functioning human being. Ok, so your first few weeks are wild due to the failing economy and lack of jobs. Then you get bored and nervous about those things calls bills and decide that you should have listen to your friend when they told you to hit up the staffing agency. You may ask, “Have I really hit this low point?” and the answer is “yes”. Welcome to life. So you put your shame aside, go to the interview and wait around until something pops up. Next thing you know, it is six months down the road, you have been living off ramen, 89 cent bread, water, and tuna. Suddenly things start to look up. That agency that you hide your face walking into, has hooked you up with a job that you would never have gotten on your own, you aren’t as worried about how you are going to go out that weekend and pay your phone bill, and the weather is great. Well, naturally the weather is always great but having a job makes it even better. Really, what I have learned is that you need to keep moving. The great Benjamin Franklin once said “Idol hands are the Devil’s Workshop”. This has never been more true. Here, the delicious temptations of those washinton apple shooters and long islands can do a number on your liver, moral integrity, and credit score. And while those things are easy to ignore, the hospital bills, kids running around, and lack of a home 20 years down the road might be something to think about. But as I sit here on this blissful Monday afternoon after a weekend of far too many drinks from the toothless surfer and outrageous fights over photo hunt I think that the weekend was a success. Yes a success. The crazy people, scandalous make-out sessions, and beach bar dance-offs are what living in this glorious section of the world is all about. Work is always a priority and bills will haunt us even after we are gone, but it is the living in between these that make our lives. So really, go out and accept that drink, make-out with that marine, and shake that booty like you are on America’s Best Dance Crew for the soul reason of why not?

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