Vicodin, love and other drugs

As time slips by, and my memory bank becomes cluttered, it has become increasingly evident that things are going to blur together. My college social life was not filled with individual parties, for example; it was one giant bash. There are events, of course, that are going to resonate more than others, and those particular memories are how we contextualize our pasts.

Like, this one night during my sophomore year. I don’t remember the totality of the evening; I just remember that before we went out, my buddy Brad washed down two Advil with a Miller Lite. For full disclosure, if memory serves me correct, we were sharing a six pack. 

I remember thinking, “Damn, that was incredibly stupid, dude.” 

Robert, our friend who watched the whole scene, shared my sentiment. But he definitely said something to him, because there was a half-hour long debate on whether Brad would become a “statistic.”

He didn’t, of course. And, truthfully, it was the last time I thought about mixing booze with pain medication.

Well, until the closing days of my college career, at least. There was this incident that took place at the final party I attended as an undergraduate. Because some of us were sensing our college mortality, there was definitely a weird vibe permeating the barely lit basement. What I didn’t know was that the party would double as one of those unforgettable memories and a night-long PSA for the dangers of alcohol. 

The night started off rather innocuously, in fact. Shots were poured, someone’s—probably my—manhood was challenged, and shots were imbibed. Standard fare at The Speakeasy. 

For whatever reason, I wasn’t interested in tailing along with my friends on this particular evening. Perhaps it was because, after four years of shared experiences, I already knew what their nights would be like. Brad would be bubbly and charming, and would do so while exposing all three of his chest hairs; Robert would find some way to stir the pot; Ted and Erin would dance, get into some kind of fight, resolve their issues, and be tucked into bed by 1 a.m. 

These storylines had played out so many times. 

With this in mind, a few of us decided to find some new blood. And I have to say, the following conversations were pretty forgettable. Three of us—Brad, Jordan and myself—had, after a few minutes of bouncing around, decided to talk to a girl wearing a blue dress. 

Quickly, we found out some interesting nuggets that helped make the following events make sense: she was a freshman, she appeared—and it was shortly confirmed—to be quite intoxicated and she had taken pain medication. This, ladies and gentleman, was the recipe for a shit show. 

Knowing this, I decided to proceed with caution, but I have to admit that I was intrigued by the whole scene. No, I had no real aesthetic interest in this girl, and I had no grand plan of seduction for someone I would probably never talk to again. That’s not really the way I operate. I had a sneaking suspicion, however, that something ridiculous would happen, because she kept mentioning the pain pills. 

And, boy, I was right. 

Brad would soon leave our little group, which if you know him is hardly surprising, because the man is a social butterfly. He had to spread his wings, I suppose. If anything exciting were to happen, it would have to be with Pain Pills (the girl) and Jordan. Now, with a clearer head—sans booze—I would have left immediately. Sure, some funny shit wouldn’t have happened, but Jordan could have used the one-on-one time. 

Instead, our trio stayed in tact as we bounced around the house, usually with Jordan bringing up the rear. This caused there to be some questioning of intentions. Now, I’m a little hazy on what immediately followed; however, I do know that certain people—Liam and Zach (enter laughs here)—were trying to forcibly detach Jordan from our mini-group. 

This certainly irked Jordan who was clearly interested in “trying” some Pain Pills, if you catch my drift. Again, this is where I should have exited stage left, though if I had, we wouldn’t have witnessed something unforgettable. 

Realizing that we had gone outside, Jordan focused on the target and made his move. There was one small problem, though. Taylor, another friend, was standing on the front porch and was in the way. Whether this was intentional or just mere coincidence, she’d have to tell you. But let’s just say, Jordan didn’t really give a damn, and he decided to shove her out of the way. 

Somehow—wait, no, it was definitely because he wasn’t drinking—Liam was able to lunge towards Taylor and make a perfect catch. It was a pretty surreal moment; I mean, mild-mannered Jordan Wood had just pushed someone down the stairs. If this wasn’t amazing enough, once we had decided to go inside, he jogged over to a tree, bent to one knee and crossed himself.

I almost lost it. Now, I fully support his attempts to be outgoing, and with a little more foresight, I would have done some more facilitating. But this was so over-the-top. Unfortunately, his quest would ultimately be cut short. You see, once Pain Pills made it inside, her condition had deteriorated to the point that she needed to rush to the bathroom. Kids, I hope you learned a lesson today: Never drink your body weight in Vodka after taking pain medication. 

As Jordan arrived, and subsequently surveyed the situation, he quickly realized that his lady friend was no longer there. No, love would have to wait until a later date. The big group that was assembled made sure that she and her friends made it home safely. We all felt bad that Pain Pills had lost her lunch, but now we had another story for anytime we felt like taking a stroll down memory lane. 

We’re going to get further away from that party, because time is always moving forward. Some of our collective memories of the following days and weeks are probably gone, in fact.

But, no worries, we’ll always be able to say, “Remember that one time Jordan gave Taylor the People’s Elbow…”

P.S.: We actually saw Pain Pills in July. It took me a while to remember who she was, but once I did, I laughed pretty hard. I kept saying, “The Return of Pain Pills!” Taylor thought this was pretty hilarious, and to her credit, so did Pain Pills. (Mackenzie, I believe) She was a good sport. And yes, Jordan was still interested. So if anyone finds this girl again, you need to set her up with him. Still looking out for you from the Sunshine State, Woody!

Our self-aware 'Entourage'

It’s almost time to say goodbye to our favorite bros.  

Well, the ones that have taken us on an entertaining—albeit, very glorified—ride through Hollywood, at least. There are only two episodes left for Vince and the gang to tie up all the loose ends that Doug Ellin, Entourage’s creator, has left hanging in the balance. For the show’s fans, next Sunday will mark the end of an era. 

Or so you would think.  

As I’ve reminisced the past few weeks, it’s becoming increasingly apparent that “Entourage” ended up being two different shows. Sure, it seems similar to what it’s always been, but the past few years have been fundamentally different, which makes the impending season finale feel stranger than it should.  

Not that it should carry any less emotional weight for the viewer; it just feels more like the summation of only the show’s second half. 

In the beginning, Vince, who was still an up-and-coming actor, was the impetus for everything that happened within the scope of Entourage’s fake Hollywood. In a realer sense, though, the word entourage seemed to have a negative connotation. These were supposed to be mooches and saps that gave a star short-term gratification, but didn’t really have anything of substance to give back. 

And on the surface, it would appear that Eric, Turtle and Drama fit into this categorization. But, of course, their bond with Vince has always remained true. Their connection has created a foundation for the show, and it has not changed over the course of the series. What has changed is Vince’s role as an enabler. 

It was always a half-hour of escapist television because Vince—given his celebrity standing—would get the “hookup.” That meant girls, parties, flat-screens, new kicks for Turtle, etc. Because of this, there was a huge emphasis on Vince’s career and the inner-workings of Hollywood. That was what made Entourage’s world possible. As the show has progressed, though, E, Turtle and Drama are no longer satiated by being handed everything. 

They want to escape from Vince’s shadow.

As a result, they’ve all become more self-aware. For some, this makes the show not as appealing, because the secondary characters, who were more interesting than Vince, anyway, are driven by different desires. There is a realization that who they were—Turtle’s penchant for pot-smoking and easy women, for example—isn’t what they want forever. (This type of self-realization probably would never happen with a real entourage.)

Instead of functioning as a unit, each individual member of the Entourage is forging his own path. This all makes the show feel less “Hollywood.” There has been a noticeable lack of celebrity cameos this season, and very little mention of Vince’s career. He’s still doing that Airwalker movie, right? 

We are now watching the final—and somewhat surprising—evolution of some unforgettable characters. 

Turtle: He was clearly the most comfortable being one of Vince’s lackeys at the show’s onset. For being Vince’s driver, he was given an unlimited supply of weed and got to live the good life. To outsiders—especially, Ari—he was pretty useless. And for a few seasons, Turtle had no problem with this; after all, he was banking in on a pretty sweet setup. This obviously changed, though. He had his failed managerial relationship with Saigon, the rapper, not the city, of course. Then, he tried and failed at a relationship with Jamie-Lynn Sigler, and his subsequent foray into the Tequila business. All of this has him still trying to break away from Vince. “I want to do it on my own, Vince,” he says repeatedly.  Watch an old episode of the show and compare that Turtle to his current incarnation, it’s somewhat unsettling. Will Turtle succeed at the Italian food game? 

Johnny Drama: Remember when Drama was Vince’s personal chef. Well, he’s still just as irrational and prone to a bad anxiety attack. But in the interim he’s had some career success—a few roles that he got because of Vince turned into a regular spot on a network sitcom, which he lost because, well, he’s freaking neurotic. There was a moment in last week’s episode where this self-awareness theme was striking. After all the craziness with the Johnny Banana’s strike, he tells Dice that maybe this is who he is—you know, the crazy guy with a penchant for self-sabotage. Drama knows who he is now. Will his show new potential hit cartoon actually happen?

E: Because Eric was Vince’s manager, he always seemed the most self-aware already. He always obsessed about how to make people think he was actually skilled at his work. His neurosis hurt him at times, but he now runs a full-fledged agency with associate Scott Lavin, a great late-addition to the show. But he still has his fair share of problems. He is still in love with Sloan, and he seems to know it—even if it only became apparent after a sexual encounter with her former step-mother. What happens there? 

Ari: They were never going to put “consummate family man” on Ari Gold’s grave, but you’d never think his disintegrating personal life would ever affect his agency. Well, it may take it away from him. Another telling exchange from last week: Babs saying that two women now had L.A.’s biggest chauvinist by the balls. He finally seemed to come to grips with the divorce, as long as it didn’t threaten his agency, of course. He then saw Bobby Flay emerge from “his” kitchen when he wanted a word with Mrs. Ari (Melissa). I really thought he would bitch-slap Bobby Flay like he handled Adam Davies in the past. But this is an evolved Ari Gold. He seems to know his temper—among other vices—ended his marriage. What happens to Ari next? 

Vince: It was hard to imagine that A-list star—is he supposed to be A-list?—Vincent Chase would ever end up in drug rehab, but obviously that’s what happens when you date porn stars, right? Vince did drug rehab, and when he left seemed like a sterile version of happy-go-lucky self. What drove him to become more self-aware this season? A Vanity Fair profile. Go journalism! He spent last week’s episode realizing that he’s probably never had a deep, meaningful relationship with a woman. Viewers have  known this for years, but it’s finally bothering Vince. Does he come to grips with this in next few episodes?'

Next Sunday will bring an end to the character-driven second half of Entourage. It’s not really escapist television anymore; it’s all about what happens to our favorite bros when they face some real-life problems. I bet everything ends on happy note. 

But, please, we need more LLOYD!