You Can’t Have It All

Last night I had a “Seder” meal with my friend whom we’ll just call Valentino. Valentino is head over heels in love with his girlfriend. Valentino sometimes worries that it’s hard to keep up with his girlfriend because she is uber-successful in her field of choice.

Like most Jews on Passover, we decided to forgo Seder night #2 (the sequel).  Instead, we got drunk at El Coyote in West Hollywood, while all the other good Jews walked off their urchatz. That’s just how I roll, motherfucker. 

I hadn’t seen Valentino in some time, for he is constantly traveling the globe with his babe and working. It was nice to catch up. When I asked Valentino how life was, he was stoked, but for the fact that his career isn’t quite where he wants it to be. I reminded him: dude, you have the rest of your life to be a great ***********. The hard part — the love aspect — you have figured the fuck out so far beyond belief that I’m incredibly jealous. I wish I had a girlfriend that was not only gorgeous, intriguing, and smart, but most importantly my best friend. I wish I had a sidekick to share my life with. Valentino reminded me that my career is pretty on point for a punk twenty-something, only three years out of college. He reminded me that I will find my wife/my best friend/my Elaine Robinson when I least expect it. I told him he’s a fucking cliché and to pass the guacamole. 

I guess what I’m trying to say is that you can’t have it all (at least in your twenties). You can either have an amazing love life and a so-so work life, or visa versa, but unless you’re Pharrel or Justin Bieber, your twenties, although pretty radical come the weekend, suck for the most part.

I went home, smoked a bowl, and watched THE TEN COMMANDMENTS before passing out in my PJ’s. 

I NEED A RYDE OR DIE BITCH (and I don’t mean Alexis Hyde, who is HYDE OR DIE).