So, today I’m doing the closest thing I can to the walk of shame.

You know the walk. Back in the dorms in college, at about 7AM on the weekends you’d see a mass exodus of what appeared to be really pretty zombies: chicks with messy hair, a collection of their purse and belongings balled up in their arms, one high heeled shoe still on, limping back to their place while desperately avoiding eye-contact with anyone, lest they explode into a flaming ball of disgrace.

The walk of shame. Now, since I have almost no sense of what one might call “self-respect” or “dignity,” I’m mostly immune to things like that. Think of me as the Darkman of shame- I just don’t have the ability to sense those things.

This is why many times in my life I’ve been “that guy.” That guy who offends all your friends. That guy who tried so hard to make the night legendary that no one had fun. Lucky for me, it’s rare that I’m the “no-belt guy,” and it’ll be years before I’m “the comb-over guy,” but you get it.

But I’ve been trying really hard to quell that reputation in recent years. No, serious. If you know me and think I say offensive or inappropriate things, know this: at least 90% of every thought in my mind would get me beaten senseless if spoken out loud. By an angry mob. And no one would go to jail. The mere fact that I have any friends testifies to my incredible powers of restraint.

Of course, alcohol can sometimes weaken my ability to maintain restraint.

Saturday night was one of those times. For reasons completely out of my control I spent 3 nights in a row indulging in the firewater. Again, it wasn’t my fault: there was the party at @michellereno’s, the taping of the pirate video which required heavy drinking and then on Saturday a Burning Man themed party that required the wearing of a tutu. Now, I like to have fun, but I need to be pretty tanked to don a tutu.

Now, I don’t remember every thing I drank, but one of those had to be a shot of “Go piss everyone off.” There’s the bartender I was snotty to, the convenience store clerk who just wanted to run my purchase- not hear my unfunny jokes, the doorman who repeatedly had to tell me not to try and enter through the back side (it’s ok to laugh at how that sounds).

Well, it seems that at some point I lost my wallet. Luckily all it had was our ID’s and no credit cards, but funny thing- everyone who may have it is someone “that guy” probably annoyed. Now it’s Thursday and I’m having to backtrack through the week, running into people I may or may not have offended and asking them if they’ve seen my wallet - and if I’m lucky it may be sitting right next to my self-respect I lost in highschool.

So if you see me while I’m doing the walk of shame today, please don’t look me in the eye- I may be rendered to a pile of ashes.

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