Ok, here's the deal; if you take this hangover away, I will do
anything. You hear me? Anything, God, please, just make the pounding
stop! Oh no, I'm....(throws up)
That, and many other
reasons, is why I've not been drinking anymore. It started kind of
innocently a few years ago. I just didn't want the accompanying shitty
feeling the next morning anymore, after getting into my beer. Then, I
slowly realized, that I really didn't like the getting drunk thing
anymore. For, when I did do it, just for the sake of getting drunk, I
had to drink so much beer, so fast, that I got sick almost as much from
the amount of liquid I drank, as the being drunk itself part. Pretty
much a waste of time. All for the pleasure of poisoning myself. And I
got enough of that going on, without doing it recreationally.
So here I am, forty years old, listening to Irish and Scottish drinking rock of course, and writing about this, of all things.
I
had several issues when I drank to excess, or at all. I never got in
any legal trouble or anything, and I didn't hurt anyone or anything.
But there was drama all the same.
The high points of
what I do when I get that way, is that I always, ALWAYS, feel too hot
for clothes. And, they come off eventually. It's pretty embarrassing
to constantly wake up naked somewhere. Usually with my clothes
scattered hither and yon, thanks to my sensitive friends, who figured I
should have to earn those clothes back after displaying my nude
awesomeness to them. I guess that parts sort of funny.
Allow me to relate one of my most 'complete' drunken nights. By complete, I mean I displayed almost all my drunken prowess.
It
was at Archie's Bar in Onondaga, MI. It was back when I was in A&P
school, I think I was 21, maybe. The owner's son, nicknamed Beep, went
to school with us, so a group of us went out there for a get together.
We had lots of food, tacos maybe? maybe not, I think they only served
tacos on one day. Anyways, food, beer, and Hurricanes. Pitchers of
them. I don't know what is in a Hurricane, but I like them. Sweet,
sort of orangey pink in color, and super yum. After many pitchers of
those, singing with the jukebox, and talking of very important things,
no doubt. Someone said it was time to go, because I had just tipped
over the whole table when I tried to get up to go take a piss. Knocked
all the drinks and a pitcher of the aforementioned Hurricane concoction
onto the floor. Yep, time to go.
We were spending
the night at Beep's house, which he shared with his fiance. I ended up
on the couch downstairs. Beep and his fiance had their bedroom
downstairs also. Here's what happened after everyone went to sleep, and
I've pieced this together from what I sort of remember, and what I was
told.
At some point, I got super hot, and took off
all my clothes, and sat at the kitchen table alone, in the dark. Beep
got up to use the bathroom, and had to pass by the kitchen to do it, and
he saw me, and asked if I was ok. I must have grunted ok, because he
went on. Oh yea, he was naked too, important in a second. As he went
into the bathroom, I got up, and went into his bedroom. I climbed into
bed with his fiance, who was nude as well. She didn't notice it was me,
and I sort of drifted off for a minute. Next thing I know, I'm being
shaken by the shoulder, and I open my eyes, and Beep's cock is right in
front of my face. He is saying, "Wrong bed dude, wrong bed." I grunt
some more, and get up, and go back out to the living room. A little
later, I have to go to the bathroom, so I go over near the bathroom,
where they had a clothes hamper, I lift the lid, and pee inside of it.
Then I laid back down on the bed.
Morning comes,
finally. I have a ripping headache, and feel like I'm going to be
sick. I realize that I'm naked, and feel wicked embarrassed. But, more
importantly, I become aware of a discussion taking place at the kitchen
table. Beep is talking to my friend Fred, and Beep is wondering
whether or not he should kick my ass, because I jumped in bed with his
fiance. Fred talks him into not kicking my ass, telling him I was
drunk, and didn't mean anything by it.....I didn't by the way. I
distinctly remember seeing his bed, and thinking; A bed! I want a bed,
bed is nice...so sleepy.
So I'm not a perv or anything, at least not that time.
I
was so embarrassed when they told me what I had done. And nobody had
found out I peed in the clothes hamper yet. That didn't happen until
the next day, and I heard about it at school. So, the story became:
Sure
dude, I take you to my bar, feed you, get you drunk, let you sleep at
my house; then you try to sleep with my fiance, and when I tell you no,
you piss on my clothes!!
He said it with good humor,
he's a good person. He was in the military, and seen lots of stuff at
his bar too. Luckily for me, nothing I did had really shocked him.
That's
the most amusing story of me on the sauce I think. Others involve
allegedly trying to tackle trees in the center of town, singing in
inappropriate places, more nakedness. etc
That, and
the driving. Boy did I drive home sometimes when I shouldn't have. I
know I'm not alone in this, even when we all didn't get caught. I feel
bad though, so many bullets, so narrowly avoided.
I
feel better about life since I decided that drinking wasn't for me. I
mean, I could still have a drink if I wanted, I haven't taken a vow or
anything. I just don't want to. Most drinks don't taste good to me
anyways. Since I had my kidney stone last year, I've been scared away
from most anything other than water. I still have milk with my cereal,
but other than that, I drink only water. For almost 9 months now. Wow,
I never thought that would happen. I used to drink Mountain Dew like
it was water itself. But that's another story, for another day.
Kisses all. Careful where you get shitfaced!
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