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When you're an alcoholic, social graces are among the first things that go out the window. Followed closely by your marriage, custody of your children, your driver's license, your job, and much of the respect and love that you've accrued throughout your many years on this planet. But we're here to help, because the one thing that people hate worse than a drunk is a socially sloppy drunk.
Scenario One: Office Party
You are invited, against the boss's better judgment, to the annual Yuletide festivities. You notice that the "punch" is running low on alcohol content (as your arrival sent a chill through the brew-master and forced him to concede that no one wanted to end up like you, so why not water it down a bit), so you proceed to spike the punch with Wild Turkey and/or some Schlitz that you found thrown in the trashcan outside the flea-bitten motel that is your current residence, pending the outcome of the divorce settlement. Your boss takes you aside and asks, "What the hell is wrong with you?"
The solution: Here, common sense dictates that you apologize, beg off responsibility, or suddenly become a deaf-mute with no grasp of your actions. However, common sense is the enemy of the truly committed drunk. Your response will fall along these lines: "Hey, man, it's a party. Let's party! Woo! Yeah, crank up some 'Freebird,' I feel freaky tonight! Everybody, let's get fucked-up! Can you dig it?"
After this outburst, you will be escorted by some helpful security men to the waiting police car several floors down. Social decorum dictates that you vomit at least once on the arresting officer's shoe.
Scenario Two: Children's Birthday Party
You're not allowed within one hundred feet of your family, yet for little Bobby's birthday (or maybe it's Suzie, you can't keep the fuckers straight) you manage to convince the judge that you'll be on your best behavior if you're allowed to go. "Best behavior" for you means loading up on tequila before the party, arriving thirty-minutes late with a Mexican "circus performer" who is in actuality just a bum that you picked up outside the liquor store, dry-humping the clown balloons that decorate the festive bash, and falling into the nearby pool and soaking your one good suit, all while "The Amazing Jorge" teaches the children the Spanish phrase for "it's not my pot, officers." Your wife and her handsome new boyfriend who's probably queer, or at least not a good drinker like yours truly, is unimpressed.
The solution: The dignified way to exit this situation would be to peacefully cooperate with the arresting officer (who's become something of an old friend by this point). However, dignity is in the eye of the beholder, and in this case that's one blood-shot eye. You will tussle with the officer, implore Jorge to somehow use his "magic" to free you from those painful handcuffs, and curse the day that you let that whore-bag into your life. Congratulations, you've just ensured that little Bobby will have an unforgettable birthday (or was it Suzie?).
Scenario Three: Funeral
Your best friend from your college days, Roger "The Chug Meister" Alvarez, has finally succumbed to cirrhosis of the liver (much like former friends Hank "Miller Lite" Miller, Mark "Tequila Joe" Johnson, and Ken "Seriously Guys, I Need to Concentrate"Hey, Is That Mad Dog?" Baxter). A wake is being held at the funeral home, where people can view the body. Your sponsor thinks that this would be helpful for you, as you might get the wake-up call he believes you so desperately need. You ask if there's going to be an open bar.
The solution: Funerals are somber occasions, but you don't do somber (unless you're all alone at night with a gun in your mouth and a bottle of Jim Beam pointed at your head). You show up blitzed out of your mind, tell Roger's wife how fucking hot she is, and how Rog "said it was cool, you know, if I wanted to, you know, I mean, c'mon, it's not like he's coming back." Your sponsor leaves when you start drunkenly talking to Roger's corpse, swearing that you never told anyone about that one time in college when he wanted to experiment. You then plant a full kiss on Roger's cold, alcohol-soaked lips, and the pallbearers rush to remove you from the premises. In a final show of your social dominance over these lightweights, you unzip your fly and proceed to urinate directly into the hole where Roger's casket is to be lowered. However, you fall into another fresh grave and proceed to spend the night six feet down, your pants soaked from urination or vodka (it's hard to tell at this point) and with the worst case of dry mouth you've ever experienced. Still, it will all be worth it if Roger's widow gives you her digits.
it was not good. I don't care what we're comparing it too. This was boring, predictable and worst of all, free of laughter inducing lines.
I haven't seen someone string together that many words without a single funny phrase since Mako quit posting.
Sparto - so was it a one time tease with the wife or are you back off the pussy wagon? How beat up is that vag by kid 3 anyway? Are you just hula hooping to rub it around the edges?
CJ - smoke a fuckin hog leg already JC. Lisa, take care of this. Once you're done shopping on line, go down your local slacker spot - shitty record stores, skate shops, and college dive bars are a good start, and score a fuckin bag for you man. Practice rolling joints till he gets home.
Posts: 4645 Rank: 5 Joined:
2/27/2007
Location:
Ventura, CA
Posted: 7/9/2008 1:03:13 PM
When I was in the military, I got tanked in Millington, TN at the blues festival and ended up in the back of a police cruiser.
All I would tell him was my name, rank and social security number. He was not amused. They finally broke me when I asked if I could take a leak (I have a very small bladder.)
Posts: 4645 Rank: 5 Joined:
2/27/2007
Location:
Ventura, CA
Posted: 7/9/2008 1:06:07 PM
I am still hitting it about twice a week now. Her...'thing' is still in good shape, but of course it is nothing like when she was 21. Oh well, I've made my bed, now I have to sleep with it.
Posts: 5386 Rank: 1 Joined:
12/7/2006
Location:
Philadelphia, PA
Posted: 7/9/2008 1:23:19 PM
1. Its windy! as evidence by the hair, which isn't doing justice. I was just outside smoking and my skirt blew up. Not only did three men get a view of my fat ass. I have orange polka dot underwear on and pink skirt. i don't even fucking match.
2. I was at my usualy sushi/salad place and this typical south philly chick came in with her co-workers and ordered sushi or sashami and asked the workers if they had a microwave to heat it up. I swear on my life. she actually asked them to nuke her sushi. I am still in disbelief.
3. This article was very good. I enjoyed it. thank you trevor.
Posts: 1823 Rank: 12 Joined:
8/5/2007
Location:
La Crosse, WI
Posted: 7/9/2008 1:37:23 PM
If you don't believe drugs have done good things for us, then go home and burn all your records, all your tapes, and all your CDs because every one of those artists who have made brilliant music and enhanced your lives? RrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrEAL fucking high on drugs.
- Bill Hicks
But I'm proud of you man. If I could have stayed away like you did who knows where I would be right now.
Posts: 558 Rank: 18 Joined:
5/11/2007
Location:
St. Louis, MO
Posted: 7/9/2008 1:41:51 PM
But Frank brings up a good point. When I'm lamenting my wasted opportunities and failures in life, I often blame drug and alcohol abuse for my perceived shortcomings.
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