How To Stay In While Your Boys Go Out Pt. 1

Jay Cross
“Far worse looking people have done it. So why can’t I?” Jake is a 22-year-old delicious man candy originally from New York and currently living in Miami Beach attending law school. He graduated from the University of Florida in 2014 and used his degree to invest in a Toyota Prius. More information about his Prius can be found on his Instagram handle: “hotguyinaprius”. He drives an Uber part time because lawyers only get paid in movies. Jake doesn’t drink often, but when he does, he prefers it be consecutively for a potentially infinite duration. Jake often drinks.

It’s Saturday night. Your roommate’s best friend is in town. Let’s call him Jeff. He went to Penn and he’s a prick. Before even introducing himself, he calls dibbs on the shower, and now, 20 minutes later, he’s in your room, posing naked, asking you which fedora matches best.

“Bro, you’re naked. Matches best with what?”

You’re not feeling it tonight. You make eye contact with your roommate who has a look on his face as if to say, “I’m sorry, but please don’t make me do this alone.” You nod in agreement, but the entire time you know that you’re way too hungover from last night to get an ounce of alcohol down your throat. In a desperate attempt to get motivated, you try to visualize yourself pounding drinks and having the best night of your life. You close your eyes and it goes something like this:

There you are. You’re in an Ice Bar. You’re dressed like a Wildling from Game of Thrones. Outfit is on point. Kanye West walks in, he’s dressed like a Wildling. You’re both killing it. He looks you up and down and says “damn Jay, you got a dope setup.” You look at him and say, “Lol shut up, I know.” He backs away. You spot a fly honey from across the bar, she’s with a group of friends. You hate them, but you like her. You hoverboard over to her and buy her a drink. It’s a blowjob shot. It looks disgusting and you say “you’re welcome.” She hates it. You entertain her and her friends for a bit, showing them a little more attention than her. She gets agitated. You go back to her, she looks a little Latina so you say something delicious in Spanish like “Quien es tu padre?” She thinks it’s cute so you lean in for a kiss. She says, “Lol you’re stupid,” you say, “Lol, I know.” You start to dance with her. Her friend gets a little close and you say “Get your hand off my hoverboard, you’ll make it dirty.” She says “Ok.” The entire bar is focused on you and your chick. The DJ puts on “Say My Name” by Destiny’s Child, trying to kill your vibe because he is jealous. But he’s an idiot because you know all the words and just when it gets to the part where Beyonce is like “I know you say that I am assuming things, something’s going down, that’s the way it seems,” you stop because it goes too fast and is sort of confusing and she laughs and calls you stupid and you lean in for a kiss again and this time she is down for it. You whisper in her ear “I want to rescue you and take you away to the big city.” And she says “Lol you’re stupid we’re in Manhattan.” And you say “haha damn, true.”

You come back to reality and determine that it’s absolutely pointless to go out after setting the bar that high. You tell your roommate you can’t make it and he looks more jealous than upset. Jeff walks out of your room looking like the ringleader for a swingers party in East Hampton and yells “Where the white women at!?” as the apartment door slams. You feel relief.

It’s not easy saying goodbye to your boys as they embark on a night of debauchery in the big city. We all have fomo (fear of missing out) sometimes, but that’s because we’ve completely ruled out the possibility of happiness simply by not riding with the crew. I’m here to tell you, you can be happy, without the boys. Because there is food, food that you can make, by yourself, without anyone’s help.

Let me first clarify; I am by no means a master chef. I would never call myself a chef, or be called a chef, or even a cook for that matter. I am not a food enthusiast or a nutrition expert, but what I am, is just really, really hungry all the time.

Homemade Potato Chips:

  • 1 large potato
    • Place the potato on a cutting board and find yourself a large, sharp knife.
    • Cut this potato in half, the long way, to give you two equal pieces.
    • Using one half of the potato, take your large knife and cut the potato into thin slices, each slice looking like a semi circle.
    • Cut these as thick or thin as you like. If they’re too thick, they will take longer to crisp, but if too thin, they may stick to the pan and your life is over.
    • Next, grab a large bowl. Dump in some olive oil and throw the nicely sliced potatoes in.
    • Sprinkle in a generous amount of salt and pepper, perhaps some garlic or chili powder, mix it up with your hands, dump the shit on a flat pan, ya like a cookie pan, and throw it in the oven.
  • Flip those bitches after about 10-12 min, wait a little longer, and you’re done.

You made potato chips bro, you’re the man, life doesn’t suck.


Chicken Fried Rice:

  • Put a cup of rice in your rice cooker (if you don’t have a rice cooker, just quit now).
  • Heat a large pan: med to high heat.
  • Grab a chicken breast, cut it up into small little pieces (Picture the Japanese station in the mall food courts…you’re doing literally what these guys do).
    • Throw the raw pieces into a large bowl filled with whatever oil you have (Sesame oil would be super tight) – throw that shit in the pan.
  • While it’s cooking, dump some soy sauce right in there, baby. Let it simmer.
    • Cut up half an onion – when the chicken is nearly cooked, throw the onions in.
    • Grab another pan, crack like 4 eggs in it, cook those eggs.
    • Great, your rice is done, throw it in a large bowl, add some butter to it and mix it up.
    • Sprinkle some sesame seeds on your chicken and onions and throw it in the bowl. Mix that up real nice.
    • Use your spatula to chop up the egg in the pan, throw that in the bowl.

You’ve done it. Now you can lay in bed, Tinder a bit, and put on Bedazzled because there is no better way to end your night than with a confused Brendan Fraser.


Image Source: Sandbox Suites