A lonely liver suspended in liquid
thank you, one and all, for the comments, and i am glad the confession i dropped on all of you without warning or preface has helped, and hope it continues to do so.
it may be a bit irresponsible, then, to follow a serious post about suicide with a humorous post about being a sot, but i never really pretended to be responsible.
it is funny that the three times i can remember being the most tore up all seemed related to having a good time and drinking and then, quite suddenly, discovering just how much i had had to drink.
time 1): we went to a bonfire. because we were going to be outside and wanted to keep what we were lugging to a minimum, my wife took my fifth of kahlua, which was maybe a quarter-full still, and added at least that much more vodka (probably even more than that), and cream to the top. a giant white russian. because (again) we were outside, i just drank it straight from the bottle. sitting, laughing, talking, drinking. of a sudden, i look down at my bottle, and there is but a small scum of alcohol adhering to the bottom. oh my god, i think, i am wasted. and i was. my wife had to help me walk up to the house later when i had to pee because the damn ground wouldn't quit shifting. before noticing the emptiness of my bottle, i was toasty, within ten minutes of realizing how much i had to drink, i was blitzed.
time 2): an big going away party. i started off with buttery nipples (two or three, not really sure), and then my buddy passed me a bottle and said "here, check this out." i took the bottle, and looked at the label. it was printed in a foreign language. i sniffed the contents and got a beautifully subtle hint of just the right amount of anise. i love anise. gulp! mmmmmmmm. gulp! "that is good." i say, and go to pass the bottle back. my mate says, "hold on to it, i am going to go get some food." i sit, holding the bottle, and a man i didn't know walks up, says, "where did you get that bottle?" i point at my pal and say, "he picked it up in turkey." off the other gentleman goes to talk to my friend. five minutes later, my buddy calls me over. turns out, the gentleman is from turkey, and the alcohol in question, yenni reki, is the kind of thing they might have with equal parts water over ice at a large banquet type meal. i ask him, "so how much of this might you have in a week?" "a week? we might have a drink like that once a month!" oh my god, i have just consumed two months' worth of this stuff in five minutes. no sooner do i think this than a warm feeling starts at my toes and creeps its way upwards until i am all warm and fuzzy and standing there with the dippiest smile plastered all over my chevy chase, and i am three sheets to the wind. when my wife got my home, i insisted on running around naked and trying to call all my friends, who were smart enough not to answer their phones, and finally settled for emailing a good friend. the next morning when i read her reply, i reread my original email. it really is a wonder she could read it at all. i actually spelled "then" thj3n, and that is just the one i remember.
time 3): the situation that i alluded to in my vegas post. everyone else was drinking vodka, which had given me a pretty hefty headache the night before, so i was drinking whiskey. we're talking, laughing, having a good time, and for some reason i really can't remember, i felt compelled to sho them how much they had been drinking. i said loudly, "well, look! i mean, you guys have about wiped out a fifth of smirnoff and i have--" i hold up my bottle of seagrams 7, and suddenly notice that i have only slightly more whiskey (which only i have been drinking) than they have vodka (which three people have been drinking), and my jaw drops and my eyes pop. ten minutes later, i am in the bathroom.
it should also be noted here, that my wife has the magic ability to make me feel drunk. i tend to act sillier than i should for the amount of alcohol i have consumed. i have a drink or two and act like i have had five and have a good time. my wife cocks her head, and gives me that look, to which i reply, "i am not drunk." then she will do the point, and if she does the point and i see it, i am drunk. i could've had a damn shirley temple and if i see my wife do the point it's the same as if i have consumed all the alcohol in the house. my vision blurs, my words get slurred, i stumble and weave, and i will for fucking sure be hungover the next day. not sure how she does it, but it is a nifty trick.
ok, my kids are beginning to make thinking, let alone writing, virtually impossible, so i will leave you with that.
darth sardonic
it may be a bit irresponsible, then, to follow a serious post about suicide with a humorous post about being a sot, but i never really pretended to be responsible.
it is funny that the three times i can remember being the most tore up all seemed related to having a good time and drinking and then, quite suddenly, discovering just how much i had had to drink.
time 1): we went to a bonfire. because we were going to be outside and wanted to keep what we were lugging to a minimum, my wife took my fifth of kahlua, which was maybe a quarter-full still, and added at least that much more vodka (probably even more than that), and cream to the top. a giant white russian. because (again) we were outside, i just drank it straight from the bottle. sitting, laughing, talking, drinking. of a sudden, i look down at my bottle, and there is but a small scum of alcohol adhering to the bottom. oh my god, i think, i am wasted. and i was. my wife had to help me walk up to the house later when i had to pee because the damn ground wouldn't quit shifting. before noticing the emptiness of my bottle, i was toasty, within ten minutes of realizing how much i had to drink, i was blitzed.
time 2): an big going away party. i started off with buttery nipples (two or three, not really sure), and then my buddy passed me a bottle and said "here, check this out." i took the bottle, and looked at the label. it was printed in a foreign language. i sniffed the contents and got a beautifully subtle hint of just the right amount of anise. i love anise. gulp! mmmmmmmm. gulp! "that is good." i say, and go to pass the bottle back. my mate says, "hold on to it, i am going to go get some food." i sit, holding the bottle, and a man i didn't know walks up, says, "where did you get that bottle?" i point at my pal and say, "he picked it up in turkey." off the other gentleman goes to talk to my friend. five minutes later, my buddy calls me over. turns out, the gentleman is from turkey, and the alcohol in question, yenni reki, is the kind of thing they might have with equal parts water over ice at a large banquet type meal. i ask him, "so how much of this might you have in a week?" "a week? we might have a drink like that once a month!" oh my god, i have just consumed two months' worth of this stuff in five minutes. no sooner do i think this than a warm feeling starts at my toes and creeps its way upwards until i am all warm and fuzzy and standing there with the dippiest smile plastered all over my chevy chase, and i am three sheets to the wind. when my wife got my home, i insisted on running around naked and trying to call all my friends, who were smart enough not to answer their phones, and finally settled for emailing a good friend. the next morning when i read her reply, i reread my original email. it really is a wonder she could read it at all. i actually spelled "then" thj3n, and that is just the one i remember.
time 3): the situation that i alluded to in my vegas post. everyone else was drinking vodka, which had given me a pretty hefty headache the night before, so i was drinking whiskey. we're talking, laughing, having a good time, and for some reason i really can't remember, i felt compelled to sho them how much they had been drinking. i said loudly, "well, look! i mean, you guys have about wiped out a fifth of smirnoff and i have--" i hold up my bottle of seagrams 7, and suddenly notice that i have only slightly more whiskey (which only i have been drinking) than they have vodka (which three people have been drinking), and my jaw drops and my eyes pop. ten minutes later, i am in the bathroom.
it should also be noted here, that my wife has the magic ability to make me feel drunk. i tend to act sillier than i should for the amount of alcohol i have consumed. i have a drink or two and act like i have had five and have a good time. my wife cocks her head, and gives me that look, to which i reply, "i am not drunk." then she will do the point, and if she does the point and i see it, i am drunk. i could've had a damn shirley temple and if i see my wife do the point it's the same as if i have consumed all the alcohol in the house. my vision blurs, my words get slurred, i stumble and weave, and i will for fucking sure be hungover the next day. not sure how she does it, but it is a nifty trick.
ok, my kids are beginning to make thinking, let alone writing, virtually impossible, so i will leave you with that.
darth sardonic
Labels: alcohol, alkaline trio, basted, blitzed, faded, shit-faced, three sheets to the wind, toasty, wasted, well-shined
posted by darth sardonic at 11:25 AM
3 Comments:
i hate being drunk so much but it doesnt stop me drinking...I loved the bit about your wife's look and point when you are drinking, too hilarious.
I live with a guy who always keeps your glass full. I tell you it's difficult to know how much you've had to drink when every time you look at your glass it's brimming. So I was weeding this sumemr and drinking margaritas (It's called drunken gardening, beautiful thing) when I suddenly realized I'd had way too much. Interesting how that happens no?
Ah, drinking, I merember it well... funny how you only feel drunk when you check out how much you've put away!
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