IN 1985 A 20 YEAR OLD ROBERT DOWNEY JR JOINED SNL AS ONE OF THE YOUNGEST CAST MEMBERS EVER
but not all good things last for long as he was promptly replaced by sir lorne the next season after tv ratings plummeted to a new low.
some would think the rdj would wallow in self-pity, that he would pack it up and call it a career but that’s not his style,
as he then went on to become one of the biggest movie stars of all-time,
gracing the silver screen as iron man
and saving the world by beating the crap outta bad guys with his mega fortune.
honestly it’s pretty easy to see why downey jr. is your celebrity crush,
especially since he has a lifetime membership to burger king that lets him get all the free whoppers he wants.
but let’s be real:
we both know that you would get tired of the constant bk date nights as
the montonoity of freezer-burned ground beef would
quickly wear thin on your ever-evolving taste buds,
causing you to ghost the aging pretty boy completely after three dates.
but i’m not complaining.
gives you and i more time to check out some amazing landmarks,
like the treetop bridge called “nutty narrows,” which hangs over a busy road in washington that’s just big enough for squirrels to cross.
admit it. that’s cute af. i’ll start planning the trip now.
OK I KNOW KITTY ASTHMA IS A REAL THING I JUST CAN’T BELIEVE OUR CAT ACTUALLY HAS IT
every night before bed we hook our cat up to a giant nebulizer machine
to combat his asthma attacks.
at first it seemed like a daunting task but now it’s all a part of our normal routine.
i gotta admit he looks so cute in his lil’ kitty face mask
the way he sits there, belly sticking out
sucking in all his fresh and glorious albuterol
as if to say: this is my life
what have i done?
i wonder what goes through his mind when this is happening
if he’s concerned about all the issues in the world, or
if he just disassociates completely from reality
until it’s time for his salmon dinner.
personally?
i know
i can’t stop thinking about
elephants
and how they’re the only animal that’s physically incapable of jumping.
like
how messed up is that?
pretty sad if you ask me
but i cry about everything, so what do i know.
AN ODE TO PARIS AND IBS
ahh paris:
often referred to as the city of love or the city of lights—
but to me
it will always be the city of no fromage—the most important phrase to know when you’re severely lactose intolerant and in a place that adds a lil’ dosage of cheese to basically anything you can eat: coffee, croissants, cronuts, you name it.
yes, it’s no secret parisians love this dairy derivative, but i wasn’t gonna let my ibs cause us to miss out on all the best touristy attractions, like that giant tower thingy in the middle of champs de mars, the bridge with the locks, and that uhh famous restaurant from the movie ratatouille
that everyone always talks about.
in preparation for our big eurotrip, i woke up every day at the crack of dawn and practiced my new phrase in front of a mirror for hours at a time
slowly letting no fromage
roll off my tongue
the f and the r blasting triumphantly outta my mouth
without hesitation
giving me confidence that i was ready to drunkenly scream this phrase at random passerbys after a night out on the town—or so i thought.
unfortunately when we got to paris, a cashier at a fancy takeout restaurant peer pressured me into getting their classic fondue jurassienne and it was the worst mistake of my life.
days of perfecting no framge
literally flushed down the drain because i’m too much of a people-pleaser
even when i don’t know the people i’m pleasing.
sigh.
why do i put myself in these positions?
the world may never know.
THE RUSH I GET WHEN I TELL MY PARTNER’S ITALIAN UNCLES THAT I’VE NEVER SEEN THE GODFATHER IS EXHILARATING
oh to be a squirrel smelling a flower in the park without a care in the world
just trying to remember where you planted your acorns from the winter haul
only to forget where they are.
it’s hard work being a sweet little sciuridae sometimes
but if we’re being real with each other
it’s a lot harder to go to your partner’s parent’s house for the first time
on the day of thanksgiving
and be forced to tell their italian uncles that you’re lactose intolerant and that you’ve never seen the godfather parts 1,2,3, or 4
because your attention span
doesn’t process anything longer than
spongebob gifs
or commercials for subway
letting you know that $5 footlongs are back,
that catchy jingle rattling around in your head for the rest of the day
unable to stop humming it until you lose your voice.
honestly
i know that sounds pretty pathetic
but i don’t care.
at least i’m not
on youtube chronicling my month-long attempt at completing the rock’s
metabolism-crushing workout plan
or
blindly telling people
that it’s a universal truth that any jim in good fortune must clearly state in their tinder bio that they’re looking for a pam to settle down with.
that’s just silly
and makes even less sense
than that time i learned about
how a buncha hackers
revealed a security flaw that let people log into any hotmail account using the password ‘eh’
but they never ended up doing anything worthwhile
with that info.
oh well.
i wonder if subway charges tax
on their subs.
turkey and swiss on honey wheat sounds good right now.
CAN YOU THINK OF A RADDER ANIMAL THAN A PLATYPUS BECAUSE I SURE CAN’T
despite not having any teeth
platypuses are still able to happily munch away at their favorite freshwater shellfish
by ingeniously stuffing gravel into their cheek-pouches
and using that as a makeshift food processor to grind up their grub.
even though that sounds like a lot of work—and believe me it does
perhaps they are on to something—
resourceful little fellas, if you ask me.
kinda like that time on our first date
when i got intense food poisoning from the new sushi place—tuna town
and puked all over my walmart button down
forcing me to find a change of clothes so that we wouldn’t miss the previews for the emoji movie.
lo and behold—while searching my mom’s kia sportage
i found my little sister’s vsco care package—cropped tie dye hoodie, hair scrunchies and all.
considering you weren’t absolutely humiliated to be seen in public with me
or severely mortified of my floral hello kitty tattoo
i’d say that’s a good sign that we’re going places.
speaking of places:
wanna go to the local barcade on 50 cent wing night for a round or two of guitar hero?
make sure you bring a lot of hand sanitizer.
those machines can get pretty nasty,
which is totally not rad.
Shawn Berman (he/him) runs The Daily Drunk. Some of his recent work is featured or forthcoming in Stone of Madness Press, Rejection Letters, and (mac) ro (mic). Follow him on Twitter @sbb_writer.
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