The Drunken Blog

Every once in a while people come up with something that my friend James terms as “a million dollar idea.” He meant it in the literal sense, where you come up with a product and are able to sell that product for a million dollars, like the pet rock. My idea is not marketable, but that doesn’t make it any less valuable. They often say that necessity is the mother of invention, so let me give you some background on my mother.

This past weekend was the last summer concert of the year, which is a bit odd because I wouldn’t really consider October to be the summer (apparently people that make calendars agree with me), but then again, I also don’t think of country music as music, so I guess it all works out in the end. This concert was Brad Paisley. I have no clue what his “hit” is; if I hadn’t gone to this concert I wouldn’t even be able to pick him out of the crowd if he was wearing a nametag. Such is my devotion for the fine art of country music.
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Recently I’ve been frequenting a fine establishment called McFadden’s. It’s located in Foggy Bottom, and I used to live within walking distance of it for about 4 months after I graduated. In that four month period, I think I went there once. But all that has changed. It changed because Mary won a free happy hour. And what’s more, all of her friends get $1 beers and rails during that time. The only problem with this awesome deal is the fact that it only happens on Tuesdays.

I used to go out drinking on Thursdays while I was in college, and I even resumed the trend after meeting some new friends that were still in college, but I never regularly drank on a Tuesday night. And here I am, having gotten drunk for the past three weeks in a row on a Tuesday night. You see, it’s not a huge deal when somebody wins the free happy hour, everybody eventually wins. In fact, the second time we went Jake and I signed up for the mailing list and Jake found out the next day that he won. I unfortunately did not, but I’m just waiting for my comeuppance.
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Have you ever obligated yourself to meet up with somebody that you know in your heart of hearts is just a plain bad idea, but somehow in a moment of weakness you did anyway? This usually happens with an ex when you are intoxicated, but that’s not always the case. I know personally there are some people that I like more when I’m in a certain kind of mood. I don’t know who those people are, or what that mood is, specifically, but I know it happens.

After you realize what you’ve done, you try desperately to get out of it, if you’re like most people. I, however, would rather sit through an awkward encounter than try to weasel my way out of it. If I say I am going to do something, I am going to do it, even if I’m drunk when I say it – as long as I remember. An example of this would be the other night when I was coming home from a happy hour in DC. I wasn’t driving, because I was drunk, and I tried to put on Mary’s bracelet as a necklace. The scary thing about that situation was the fact that it actually fit over my head and around my neck. The problem was that it didn’t fit on the way off. So I broke her brand new pearl bracelet the first time she got to wear it. I felt really bad about it and I told her I would replace it for her. She didn’t take me seriously, but the next day I sent her a tracking number for the new bracelet.

Of course, there was also guilt motivating me there, but in general if I say something I stick to it because I don’t like it when other people say they are going to do something just to assuage you when they really have no intention of doing said action at all. I’d rather just be told “No, I don’t think I’m going to do that.”
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I awoke to the gentle music of my roommate’s alarm clock, it was 8am. This can’t be right, I thought to myself. Why am I awake? I had only been asleep for four hours when I heard the alarm. I thought I would be able to sleep despite the fact that it was on. I was mistaken. I was ridiculously tired, I still had a cold, and that damn music was still playing. It took me a while to figure out what the music was; after all, my roommate was out of town. I thought it was a dream at first, and then I heard it was country music, and I thought it was a nightmare. Then I realized that I was actually awake and I thought that perhaps my neighbors were having a raging country music party at eight in the morning.

I’m not exactly the best thinker first thing in the morning.

I turned on my computer. I was too tired to take a shower. I checked my e-mail, I had a message from my dad, it was about going to Atlantic City. He wanted to go at 10. I assumed that since he wanted to go, that’s when we were going to go. I played Guitar Hero; it was extremely difficult to do. I stopped playing and opted instead to sit. For an extended period of time. Eventually I called my dad to set things up, then I took a shower. The shower was amazing; it made me 8% more awake. I was still tired. And now I was hungry. I wanted food but my dad said he was bringing some sandwiches. I wanted some Chick-Fil-A. I told him this. He said to go and we would eat the sandwiches later. I was happy, but I was still hungry.

I called Mary. We had talked the day before and she said that she would come with me. I had a feeling that she might not. She did not come. That is sad. I went to Chick-Fil-A, it was still early so they only had breakfast. I was disappointed, but then I ate the food and I felt better. My dad was late coming to pick me up. We took his car but we should have taken mine. I have a EZ Pass which allows me to speed through tolls. There were a lot of tolls along the way.

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Going out to DC is a big deal. It’s too far away to effectively drive, parking is inconvenient, cabs are too pricey, and the metro closes at 2am. And yet, for some reason, I love going out to DC. It’s not something I do every weekend, and I have to be in the right mood for it, but DC is usually a good time.

My last visit to DC was an exception, however. Maybe it’s because I had imbibed heavily the two previous nights in a row and I was just plane pooped out. Maybe it’s because being in the presence of attractive girls makes me act sober. Maybe it’s because I picked up an unlucky penny. Mayhap it’s because after having had so much alcohol in such a period of time, the alcohol had taken the place of the inhibitory neurotransmitter gamma-aminobutyric acid and as a result of which my brain compensated by reducing the natural creation of GABA meaning that I would have to drink copious amounts of alcohol just to feel “normal.”

Obviously I don’t drink that much if I am able to remember that lesson from biology class.

It was most likely that I was predisposed to have a bad time. I wasn’t in the mood for going out, really. I mean, I would have been fine with a chill evening of drinking, but I never would have suggested going out to DC in my condition. However, I was coaxed out by Mary. To her defense, she didn’t have to coax that hard, pretty much the mention of Nancy and Ricky coming out was enough to get me to go out.

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Bamboozled is a fun word. It’s not so fun when you are on the receiving end of the bamboozlement, though. That’s what happened to me last week, rounding out a three day drinking fest starting on Thursday and culminating in me passing out at 6pm on Sunday.

The drinking fest started on Thursday. Thursday was the last day of my old job; I decided to give myself a whole three day weekend before starting my new job on Monday. Obviously I had to celebrate my last day. I left from work early, because what were they going to do, fire me? I left at about 4 (I know, it’s not even that early) and sat in traffic for about an hour until I got to Fairfax. I met up with my ex-girlfriend Kate, we actually both arrived at the same exact time, it was a little scary, if I’m going to be truthful here.

Just as a side note, taking Doug’s advice, I will be using actual pseudonyms for my acquaintances, as opposed to acronyms or made up words that are hard to follow, so no more New Friend Number 37. Also, these names will remain consistent between stories starting with this one; I’m even making a list of pseudonyms to which I can refer back.

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