Living Loaded: Tales of Sex, Salvation, and the Pursuit of the Never-Ending Happy Hour
Dan Dunn
Language: English
Pages: 288
ISBN: 0307718476
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
Read the book Sammy Hagar calls "kick-ass, balls to the wall rock n roll cranked to ear-bleed levels."
Many people drink, few do it professionally. My name is Dan Dunn and I consume alcohol for a living.
That’s right. I get paid to run around boozing, carousing, and getting into all manner of trouble, all in the name of covering the “adult beverage beat” for one of the most iconic brands on the planet, Playboy.
I hereby invite you to join me, as I conduct “revealing” hotel room interviews with porn stars in LA; go Zip Cat racing in Scotland with Stifler from American Pie; turn the notoriously posh Pebble Peach Wine Tournament into the opportunity for a 3-day bender (thank God for my trusty voice recorder); enjoy whiskey-fueled romantic encounters in alleyways behind East Village watering holes; get forcibly removed from a boxing match at a Vegas casino (thanks to an unfortunate misunderstanding involving lots of liquor, and the flag of Cuba); get dumped by my stripper/med student girlfriend (mid-lap dance, no less) simply for not being "husband material;” wake up naked on a big-shot Hollywood producer’s living room floor; and learn, the hard way, why NEVER to order an Irish car bomb in a Dublin pub.
Along the way, I’ll share with you the hard-won wisdom from a life lived loaded, including how to amass a kick-ass collection of bar memorabilia, to how to be Yankee and survive bars in the sticks, to how to maintain the perfect buzz during air travel. And for those of you really serious about cocktails, I’ve even included 16 original recipes created just for this book by the world's best-known practitioners of the mixocological arts. You can thank me later.
A bawdy barroom confessional that leaves no shot glass un-shot, no beer un-chugged, no potential paramour un-hit-upon, this is the most entertaining and honest book about the Drinking Life ever written. At least, ever written by me.
bulletproof, never-fail bullshit. Use one or more of these terms, and you can rarely go wrong no matter what you say next. Trust me; you could follow up by proclaiming you detect hints of yak wool or banana oil in a Pinot Gris, and everyone else around would start nodding knowingly. Bonus tip: When it comes to a wine’s “nose,” the bolder the better. Who cares what it means if it will help you score (with the snobs and with the waitress)? 2) Ditto for your aphorisms. You would think that
place will know your name and think you’re the funniest bastard who ever lived. She’ll never know what hit her. 2. The Alter Ego When out drinking, everyone wants to be somebody. Somebody else, that is. Somebody a lot cooler than you. For instance, a few months back I had a grand old time in the lobby bar at the Morrison Hotel in Dublin, regaling the locals with the story of the time I was forced to turn back just five hundred feet from the summit of K2. My tone grew somber as I recounted how
misogynistic casualwear years ago. “Besides,” he adds, shaking his head ruefully, “you can’t get a mustache ride for five cents anywhere anymore.” I fear he’s correct. The impact of the economic shit storm is definitely evident on Bourbon Street, where women are now getting IOUs instead of beads for flashing their tits. Near the famed Old Absinthe House I run into an executive from a luxury vodka brand who claims the idea that the booze business is recession-proof is a bunch of bullshit. I’m
Nilsson are damn near all I can think of, not necessarily in that order (and not necessarily the pears you’re thinking of). Indeed, as one of the world’s foremost authorities on spirits, and despite the fact that Xanté is sweet and girly, I can say without equivocation that it is the single greatest alcoholic beverage ever invented. 12:45 P.M.—It’s become clear I have no chance of ever making time with Adele Nilsson. It’s possible I may need to rethink my position on Xanté. 1 P.M.—Vampire Girl
sadness that is “How Soon Is Now?” by the way). The producer, I thought. That must be whose house this is. Oh, good. I’m hungover and naked in the dining room of a high-powered TV producer. This is just how I wanted this to play out. See, I’d been pitching him a pilot I’d written (about the hilarious and pathetic travails of a hard-living booze writer, naturally) and he’d seemed kind of interested. Wanted me to show him “how this whole thing worked.” This “whole thing” being the boozy caricature