Here's the thing. I don't drink alcohol. Well, I don't drink alcohol as a general rule. Occasionally, I am coerced into taking a swig of this or that, but ultimately, I don't enjoy the taste of alcohol and there are many kinds that I have a bad reaction to, like I turn red and my skin feels like it is on fire and itchy. Friends have tried to turn me into a drinker, with limited success. Honestly, I can make an ass out of myself completely sober, so I don't really require alcohol to have a good time. I have found that a limited amount of home-brewed Apple Pie can taste okay and takes about half a cup to get me seriously giggly. I'm such a lightweight drinker that it seriously takes me just a few swigs and I am feeling the effects. Aside from periodically drinking Apple Pie, I typically don't indulge. Last night, however, I found something that I can apparently tolerate and it "relaxes" me. That would be, Mike's Hard Lemonade, the Black Cherry variety. Here is my account of last night's episode.
I was sitting here last night, kind of in a funk because our vacation week is not really what we would like it to be. When you don't plan and save money, etc., it can really suck the fun out of it. But, it is what it is. Cannot change where we are. Doesn't mean it doesn't piss me off. So, in researching a day trip and getting frustrated, I decided I needed a Mike's Hard Lemonade. It usually takes me three days to drink one of these things, however, the Black Cherry variety was quite tasty. When you have weight loss surgery, you can't really, and shouldn't really, drink alcohol. Your body takes very little in before it affects you. And, I'm already a light-weight, even before that, so it didn't take long and I found myself very relaxed. My arms were kind of tingly, I felt light-headed, my stomach started to make weird noises, I couldn't type as well as I sat there Face-booking and things started to get funny...really funny. I was only half to 3/4 of the way through the bottle, but I was feeling it. I know, I know, it's like 5% alcohol. You people don't understand, it may as well be kryptonite to Superman.
In reviewing my texts this morning, apparently I sent a picture of me and my drink to Pony Crazy and Valerina. At one point I believe it was posted to FB, but I think I had a moment of clear thought that made me remove it. It isn't a bad picture, but I was clearly feeling like sharing. Once that door is opened, sometimes I can't get it shut.
Luckily, Pony Crazy had to go to bed, so that was the end of that. Valerina, however, suggested that I needed to go to bed and that maybe Shark Bait and I should play Cowboys and Indians. The conversation that followed shall be omitted from this blog, however, since Shark Bait didn't know the rules of the aforementioned game and I was barely able to navigate to the bathroom, it seemed that playing an adventurous round of the final frontier was probably not a good idea. And I didn't know if rope was involved or if I had to go get spurs. It was all very confusing. I think we might be more like the librarian and the guy with an over-due book. More our speed, I think, anyway, I did finally make it to the bathroom. This is where things escalated. As I sat there trying to stop laughing about Cowboys and Indians, so that I could pee, I realized that my underwear were stuck to my shoe. I could not get them unstuck from my shoe and I proceeded to laugh so hard that I was unable to function in any way. You know how when you laugh so hard that no sound comes out? That is where I was. My underwear were fucking hilarious and NO ONE understood. I truly was having a personal party. Shark Bait, who was amused, but trying to ignore me, was not helping at all. I finally begged him to come help me free myself from the underwear attacking my shoe. Reluctantly, he came in there and freed me. I contemplated sleeping right there, but Shark Bait said that my legs would go numb. None the less, he left me there, still laughing and now I started to sing. I can't remember what I was singing, but whatever it was, it inspired me to get off the toilet.
Shark Bait kept telling me to go to bed. Well, I had to take my make-up off first. I'm in the bathroom, still talking to Shark Bait, still singing something and I put my head down close to the sink so I can rub the cleanser in and rinse my face. I'm just singing and scrubbing and apparently I got a little carried away because as I was enthusiastically scrubbing, I accidentally shoved my pinky up my right nostril. And I don't mean that I just barely poked the perimeter of my nose, I shoved that finger up there hard. Which made me laugh hysterically and cry in pain at the same time. Shark Bait was unaffected by my reckless cleansing ritual. I laughed and laughed about it last night, but dang, my nose still hurts this morning. I'm not so sure I didn't damage something. I seriously should not drink. I can't even wash my face without incident. I've said it before and I'll say it again. I should wear a helmet at all times. I'm a dork.
Before going upstairs, I apparently went over and locked the door and declared, "doors locked - nailed it!" It's little accomplishments like these that make a drunk person feel good. I did finally make it upstairs, no thanks to Shark Bait. I could have been killed on the stairs. I flopped myself down on the bed and noticed some bugs on the ceiling, which I immediately alerted Shark Bait about. He came and killed them, then helped me get undressed and get into bed. I sent one final drunk text and then it was lights out. I had weird dreams all night long about someone trying to kill me and how I kept running and finding "safe rooms" to hide in, but the guy kept finding me, so I finally shot him, burned his body and put the ashes in a dairy farm settling pond. I don't know what that is about, but let's just say I shouldn't get drunk and go shooting. I think it is a bad idea.
I don't know if I will drink anymore special lemonade today, but I'm determined to get through that 6 pack by the end of my vacation. I'm making that commitment. I just hope I don't sustain any other injuries. Shark Bait better stay alert.
So that's it, that's what I remember. Now you can all feel better about yourselves knowing you never jammed a finger up your nose while drinking. Walk a little taller today knowing that. You are welcome.
I was sitting here last night, kind of in a funk because our vacation week is not really what we would like it to be. When you don't plan and save money, etc., it can really suck the fun out of it. But, it is what it is. Cannot change where we are. Doesn't mean it doesn't piss me off. So, in researching a day trip and getting frustrated, I decided I needed a Mike's Hard Lemonade. It usually takes me three days to drink one of these things, however, the Black Cherry variety was quite tasty. When you have weight loss surgery, you can't really, and shouldn't really, drink alcohol. Your body takes very little in before it affects you. And, I'm already a light-weight, even before that, so it didn't take long and I found myself very relaxed. My arms were kind of tingly, I felt light-headed, my stomach started to make weird noises, I couldn't type as well as I sat there Face-booking and things started to get funny...really funny. I was only half to 3/4 of the way through the bottle, but I was feeling it. I know, I know, it's like 5% alcohol. You people don't understand, it may as well be kryptonite to Superman.
In reviewing my texts this morning, apparently I sent a picture of me and my drink to Pony Crazy and Valerina. At one point I believe it was posted to FB, but I think I had a moment of clear thought that made me remove it. It isn't a bad picture, but I was clearly feeling like sharing. Once that door is opened, sometimes I can't get it shut.
Luckily, Pony Crazy had to go to bed, so that was the end of that. Valerina, however, suggested that I needed to go to bed and that maybe Shark Bait and I should play Cowboys and Indians. The conversation that followed shall be omitted from this blog, however, since Shark Bait didn't know the rules of the aforementioned game and I was barely able to navigate to the bathroom, it seemed that playing an adventurous round of the final frontier was probably not a good idea. And I didn't know if rope was involved or if I had to go get spurs. It was all very confusing. I think we might be more like the librarian and the guy with an over-due book. More our speed, I think, anyway, I did finally make it to the bathroom. This is where things escalated. As I sat there trying to stop laughing about Cowboys and Indians, so that I could pee, I realized that my underwear were stuck to my shoe. I could not get them unstuck from my shoe and I proceeded to laugh so hard that I was unable to function in any way. You know how when you laugh so hard that no sound comes out? That is where I was. My underwear were fucking hilarious and NO ONE understood. I truly was having a personal party. Shark Bait, who was amused, but trying to ignore me, was not helping at all. I finally begged him to come help me free myself from the underwear attacking my shoe. Reluctantly, he came in there and freed me. I contemplated sleeping right there, but Shark Bait said that my legs would go numb. None the less, he left me there, still laughing and now I started to sing. I can't remember what I was singing, but whatever it was, it inspired me to get off the toilet.
Shark Bait kept telling me to go to bed. Well, I had to take my make-up off first. I'm in the bathroom, still talking to Shark Bait, still singing something and I put my head down close to the sink so I can rub the cleanser in and rinse my face. I'm just singing and scrubbing and apparently I got a little carried away because as I was enthusiastically scrubbing, I accidentally shoved my pinky up my right nostril. And I don't mean that I just barely poked the perimeter of my nose, I shoved that finger up there hard. Which made me laugh hysterically and cry in pain at the same time. Shark Bait was unaffected by my reckless cleansing ritual. I laughed and laughed about it last night, but dang, my nose still hurts this morning. I'm not so sure I didn't damage something. I seriously should not drink. I can't even wash my face without incident. I've said it before and I'll say it again. I should wear a helmet at all times. I'm a dork.
Before going upstairs, I apparently went over and locked the door and declared, "doors locked - nailed it!" It's little accomplishments like these that make a drunk person feel good. I did finally make it upstairs, no thanks to Shark Bait. I could have been killed on the stairs. I flopped myself down on the bed and noticed some bugs on the ceiling, which I immediately alerted Shark Bait about. He came and killed them, then helped me get undressed and get into bed. I sent one final drunk text and then it was lights out. I had weird dreams all night long about someone trying to kill me and how I kept running and finding "safe rooms" to hide in, but the guy kept finding me, so I finally shot him, burned his body and put the ashes in a dairy farm settling pond. I don't know what that is about, but let's just say I shouldn't get drunk and go shooting. I think it is a bad idea.
I don't know if I will drink anymore special lemonade today, but I'm determined to get through that 6 pack by the end of my vacation. I'm making that commitment. I just hope I don't sustain any other injuries. Shark Bait better stay alert.
So that's it, that's what I remember. Now you can all feel better about yourselves knowing you never jammed a finger up your nose while drinking. Walk a little taller today knowing that. You are welcome.
No comments:
Post a Comment