Wednesday, May 1, 2013

Funny Drunk?

I can feel the melatonin slowing me down, sloooowwing me down, sloooooow wing me down. I don't like that I can never remember what I read just before I fell asleep after taking it. I probably won't remember what I'm trying to say here. I hate feeling drugged. It's harder than it should be to sit in this wooden chair. I hate the dizziness. I hate that sleeping seems so boring compared to trying to remember how to spell 'boring' without a 'y.'

Okay, so they made marijuana legal in the state of Washington. I haven't smoked it. Have you? I haven't even considered brownies or anything. I never liked how that felt anyway. It made me sick to my stomach and I never knew if I was supposed to be happier afterward or not. Yes, I smoked a few times in college and a little bit afterward. My drug of choice in college and after was alcohol.

Yes, I drank too much in college. Who didn't? I drank too much after college too. I had a great set of coworkers. We played league baseball on Tuesdays. I dented the trunk of my new car from the inside by slamming it on a keg after the game one time. I was in charge of the keg. Why did being in charge of the keg mean that I had to drink too much too? On Thursdays and Fridays, we went to happy hour and danced. We drank then too. On Friday and Saturdays, I went into NYC with other friends and we'd go to Avenue One to dance until dawn. Okay, so I could never afford to drink more than one or two gin and tonics in the city since, so I mostly held onto a nearly empty glass and danced. They were watered down anyway. But we danced all night as if we were drunk. Is that place still there? It was on First Avenue. That always made me laugh. We danced on their tiny dance floor in a circle so the guys wouldn't gang up and smash us between them, grinding their bodies against ours. The circle kept them out until one of the others said she didn't want to be protected. I always went home alone from the city. I was always the one dropping people off at dawn after we had breakfast at the Greek diner. Oh, feta cheese omelets. That place was amazing and I don't even remember its name. Sometimes we went to an Irish pub instead and listened to a live band. Oh, I wanted to marry one of those guys, the ones with the sweet Irish brogues. I was too embarrassed to even go up to them to speak. They were famous, at least in the pub, they were famous.

I did marry my Irish guy, but when I met him, it all became less important, the drinking and staying out all night. He didn't need me to make him laugh. All of the others liked to see me get drunk enough to tell my worst jokes. You know, the joke about the penis and the tennis shoe talking about whose life was worse. Oh, I could drag that one out forever. In the end, the penis wins by saying, "They put a raincoat on me and make me do push ups until I puke." Is that even funny? There's the question for Michael Jackson about where the other glove is. I forget the punch line though. Oh, I used to get so drunk, I'd tell these long embarrassing stories and play the piano at the bar. They loved the embarrassing stories. The bartender loved the piano.

I never remembered the embarrassing stories thank God, but I do have a vague recollection of peeing behind a bush in Central Park after the Team Xerox marathon run. I also went for a long walk barefoot in the snow one time when I got too drunk to play the piano and this mean guy made fun of me for it. I hated that guy.

When I met Mike, I figured out that I could have a great time without drinking. It was as if I opened something up in my head, the seriousness came loose, a little and didn't required alcohol to do it. After that, sometimes people thought I was drunk when I wasn't. I was happy. There was no convincing these people I hadn't had a drink but I was there with Mike and that's all I needed.

Still, my old crowd was annoyed with me after that. I get the part about the enablers when it comes to giving up alcohol. Guess I wasn't as fun without a few drinks in me. I didn't tell as many self-incriminating stories.

Well, okay, I guess I just told you a self-incriminating story now, didn't I?

Thank you for listening, jules

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