31 December 2010

La Raison de ne Boire pas

My apologies to all my non-existent, avid readers. Upon closer inspection, it would seem that my drunken self delved more to the pitiful. C'est la vie and all that jazz. If we have learned anything, other than my tolerance for Jameson has waned, it is that in the twilight of drunken hedonism one should not blog. Or, for that matter, interact socially, as I believe I also attempted to call my exes for some sort of depraived masochism.

Which brings to mind another festive night, well three nights come to mind, but I figure only one drunk story per month is probably appropriate. And it's fitting that tonight also happens to be New Year's Eve, a notorious night for the drinking and slovenly groping of strange bar skanks. But that is neither here nor there; this is about me and that is all that matters.

During college, as with most young adults, I was no stranger to alcohol-induced debauchery and merriment. I would not say that I was an alcoholic, but I was quite well-versed in the varied beers, liquors, and spirits of the world. I could enjoy an IPA or a shot of 151 as easily as a Chardonnay or single malt scotch neat. The one thing I never cared much for was tequila, but I often found myself drinking it when around a certain crowd.

One night during the break between summer sessions, my roommates and I were drinking heavily and enjoying copious amounts of Halo. And things were steadily progressing, as anyone would guess, toward a night of perfect, blissful stupor and What-a-Burger taquitos at 4AM. I should say that I hold my liquor very, very well. Being of German and Irish descent, I pride myself on how well I can drink. So, it was about 3 o'clock and the drinking was still going strong. Unfortunately, earlier in the day, I had stepped in an ant bed (I'm deathly allergic) and had taken Benadryll to offset the prospect of early death via anaphylaxis. By the time we had begun drinking, around 10PM, I figured the meds were out of my system sufficiently and that I would have no ill effects during our evening.

Sadly, I was wrong. The Benadryll was still raging through my body and began to combine with the alcohol. Somewhere around 3AM, I fell into a brownout. I would say it was a blackout, but I can remember some of the things I did and the rest of the gaps my roommates filled in for me. Anyway, around the time I browned, the last thing I remember clearly is smoking a Parliament on the back porch and walking in to the apartment and taking a 10 second chug from the Jack Daniels bottle on the counter. And then the world went hazy...


(and this is a filler provided by my roommate) I began spinning in circles in the living room for no apparent reason other than, he tells me I said "I'm recapitulating my childhoods." I continued in this manner for approximately 10 minutes until I fell over the back of the couch and shouted "Damn it!! Who put the car in the washing machine?!" After this, I stumbled to the refrigerator and took out the mustard and a bottle of vodka because we had no more chaser drinks. I proceeded to pour a shot of vodka and half mustard, claiming it was original and couldn't possibly be that bad.


(this I recall) I drank the shot and spit it into the sink forthwith. I wanted to get the taste out of my mouth so I told my roommate I was going to go pee. And I did, I went down the hall and peed and crawled back to the living room. Still thirsty, I hunted for something else to drink. I remember grabbing some expired orange juice.


My roommate stares blankly over the back of the couch as I openly proclaim "I'm peeing!! I'm peeing!!" Fearing the worst, he runs over to me to make sure I'm not really peeing on our floor. I am not, but I then chug some orange juice and spit it back out on to the carpet like a fountain. My roommate cleans up the mess and throws me out on the back porch...alone. Probably not his best idea, but he wasn't really all that cheery at the moment.


I'm standing on the back porch, kinda confused and wondering where everyone else went. At that moment, I spied the swimming pool. I was hot and decided that a swim would be a great idea. I scaled the 8 ft wrought iron fence and dove in. Sadly, I was fully clothed, shoes, pants, the whole nine, including my wallet, car keys, cell phone, and iPod. The water was freezing so I jumped out immediately and ran back to the apartment. My roommates apparently heard my flailing and thrashing and jubilant laughter, as they came out to see what the hell I had gotten myself into now. One of them ran inside and threw a towel at me so I could dry off and get back inside lest I get arrested.


I brown out again, my roommate tells me that I complained over and over that I was A) going to have a seizure, not all that uncommon a fear since I am epileptic and B) I was never going to get married so what the fuck was the point of living. Somewhere in there, I asked for a glass of water because I was thirsty. I took said water and, according to roommate, placed the full opening of the glass in my mouth and started gargling the water inside the glass before actually drinking some. I took another few swigs and began to exlclaim that I wanted to vomit. I took a drink of the water and spit it into a trash can that had been placed by my bed, satisfied that my vomit was chunk-free and didn't cause me any pain coming up the old esophagus. I then began singing a nonsensical song and fell asleep.

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