Guest Blogger Forced to Get Own Blog

Not long ago I served as guest blogger for Strats on GotTheBonk while she was Armstronging it around France. I found I enjoyed it, so when she came back (to a grateful readership, no doubt) I decided to go solo. Welcome to Eye of the Beerholder.

First order of business: Strats! Happy Birthday and thanks for letting me try my hand at blogging at your readership's expense. It was a blast. I hope nobody held it against you.

And now, to blog . . . .

I am an idiot. An idiot and a dork. And I couldn't enjoy it more. Last night I went out with a friend after work for a few drinks. We sat at the bar and complained about work, contemplated the office hotties, discussed home improvement projects, and talked about how, back when we were young, we totally kicked ass in everything. It was an engrossing conversation. There were a couple gals sitting kind of off to the side that kept glancing over at us. Or so my buddy told me. He had a better angle. I couldn't see them without turning almost completely around. But he kept glancing over my shoulder as if there was something worth seeing.

Now, let me just say that I have approached women at bars barely a handful of times in my life. And those times have not gone well. It's not that I can't make conversation in a pinch, it's just that being so obvious makes me uncomfortable. And when I'm uncomfortable I say stupid things. Let me rephrase that. When I'm completely sober and composed I say stupid things. When I've had a couple beers and I'm uncomfortable I say things so stupid I get nauseous almost immediately. As do the people I've said them to. I think you can see where this is going.

Well, one of the gals gets up to go to the bathroom or smoke or something. My buddy is looking over at the other one and I decide, against the advice of my stomach, to go over there and attempt to strike up a conversation. I'm honestly not really that interested, but for some reason I'm convinced it will be fun. Plus, My buddy will think I'm a champ. This is how it went:

Me: "Hi. Um, are . . . are you going to drink the rest of that?"

Seriously. End of conversation. It's good thing I crack myself up, because apparently my particular awkward sense of humor does absolutely nothing for the opposite sex. Luckily, my dog thinks everything I say is pure genius, otherwise my self esteem wouldn't be able to withstand such witless attempts a social interaction.

Again, welcome to Eye of the Beerholder. Stay tuned for more tales of hilarity and humiliation!

Cheers.