Real Men of Genius?

Last month my brother and I were talking Christmas, and of course, gifts. We each asked for gifts the other would have logically requested...then again, we are of a different sort.

My request: a dart board. Not an electronic one, mind you. A real one, complete with cork and steel tipped darts. There is something to be said about throwing little projectiles.

His request: a book. I kid you not, ladies and gentlemen. My little brother, the king of sleep and all things lazy, asked for a book. Not a picture book, book on tape, or even the book inspired movie. A real life, turn the pages and read, paper back book.

Of course I am going to get him requested book. I am a book reader, lover, occasional snob. I would rather dive nose first into a book with an adult beverage of choice sitting next to me, than hover in a social arena staring at walls (which I do anyway...it is good for my wandering brain).

So I order the book...in January.
I was tickled he wanted a book, but not to the point of rushing out and making the purchase. "Hello, my name is RW, and I am a procrastinator."

The book comes in and immediately I know why he wants this book. It is the drinkers bible. No, not a book on the different beers of the world. It is an autobiography of one man, turned drunk, merged writer. I refuse to say he has turned writer, because said author still goes out, gets completely inebriated and somehow lives to tell the story. He is the king of heavy drinking, obnoxious behavior, and constant fornication. He is the god, and my brother wants in the club.

Now, his short stories are not entirely shocking. One story, he refers to a "that guy." I am sorry, but this writer is a "that guy." I know "that guy" because every man has a friend who fits the bill...the "never has a steady girlfriend because he is also screwing three other girls." The "let's have a drinking contest, do shots and see who vomits first." The "hey, punch me in the face! Seriously, don't be a wuss, just do it!"
Yes, we all know "that guy." We hear him a mile away when we go out to the bars. If you are not careful, and have the gall to turn down HIS advances, then you are either a dike, a fatty, or a whore (which makes no sense...if I were a slut, then wouldn't I FALL for your advances!)

"That Guy" does not bother me. Usually "that guy" is not interested in me anyway because I am dating his friend and will tolerate his presence. Heck, I will even laugh along (though usually AT him, never really WITH him). But I do not want my brother to become "that guy." And he is dangerously close. When I told him my discovery of his reasons for wanting the book, he confirmed my fears and suspicions immediately: "Dude, I want to be just like ... THAT GUY!!!"

The book is hilarious, if you can stand toilet humor and sexism ruling the day. If you can read a book without letting it get under your skin, then it is truly enlightening. I think it more as a guide book on how to avoid "that guy." I would gladly raise my glass to "that guy" and then gladly turn down all his drunken advances! So, we salute you, "that guy." For you have the uncanny way of making all other guys look great just by being your own obnoxious, inebriated self.
May my brother never fall in your footsteps, because frankly, I do NOT have the money to post his bail.