Riddle me this: Anyone know of a way for me to pay for and consume something that is really bad for me? I'd like it to make me really sick, too - for a good day or so. "A dozen Krispy Kremes," you say? No thank you. Those are too messy. I'd like it to be something that is in liquid form that carries a flavor reminiscent of formaldehyde. And as it travels down my throat on its one way ticket to saturate my liver, I'd like it to make my neck feel like a dead, burning tree trunk.
Give up? If you guessed alcohol, ding ding ding! You win!
If you're an alcoholic, you're a friggin' idiot! Ha ha... I kid you. I know it's a serious problem for a lot of people and I don't mean to make fun of it, but damn. I seriously can't understand how people can voluntarily drink in mass quantities day after day.
I don't drink very often. And when I do drink, I'll have a beer or two, and that's it. I can count on one hand (plus maybe one finger from the other hand) the number of times I've been intoxicated to the point where I wake up the next morning regretting it, and most of those times were when I was young and stupid.
And then last Saturday came along.
On Saturday night, I felt a strange desire to sip on some Bacardi to take the edge off of reality for a little while. Time was flying. Fun was had. EZ Cheese was dispensed into a Newcastle bottle cap. Before I knew it, a sip ended up turning into a half of a bottle.
Ouch!
It was fun for a while, but it was getting late and I was tired. Around 2:30am (technically 3:30am because of daylight savings, thankyouverymuch Ben Franklin), my brain was saying "Okay, I'd like to get off the ride now, please!" but every time I'd try to move, I knew damn well it wasn't going to happen. It was like being stuck in the front row of a 3 hour Celine Dion concert and being chained to the chair in a straitjacket with toothpicks propping my eyes open.
In my 31 years, I have yet to experience an involuntary oral protein spill (a.k.a. puke) from drinking too much. Thankfully my body tells me when I need to cut off before it gets to that point. I came reeeeeeally close on Saturday, but thankfully was able to hold back. I pondered going outside and munching on the lawn, as that seems to be a good vomit suppressant for a dog I know, but there were too many leaves out there and it was raining. Hell if I was going to waste my very first alcohol-related Technicolor yawn from drinking too much rum on a strange, cold October night in suburban Minneapolis. First times are supposed to be memorable - I at least need to be in New Orleans with a crocodile head in one hand and beignet in the other or something like that when it does happen.
I sobered up a little, and with a severe case of what I call "I feel like I drank a gallon of eggnog" stomach, drove home at 4am. 3 hours of sleep and several bedspins later, I woke up to go open the coffee shop. It doesn't get much better than that, my friends!
It will be a long time before I do anything like that again. And I don't mean "not until next weekend." It's going to be a long time if there's anything I can do about it. If you're the type of person who frequently feels a certain sort of enthusiasm and constant desire for drinking a bunch of liquid that tastes horrible with the intent of puking your brains out, be my guest... you deserve it!
Next time I'm gonna get me real good and messed up on something else.. like chocolate chip cookie dough and malts.
