Wednesday, May 21, 2008

drama, trauma, and all things cured with age and alcohol

First, I'm not a fan of drama or trauma.

Monday night was my best girl's birthday. She turned 25, remember when you freaked out over being 25? Ah, memories.

Anyway, we hit the bar at 6:30. Good lord, that's early, but the gang was there, the beers were $1 and the shots kept coming, and no one expected to close the bar. Ah, foolishness.

My goal was to drink as much as I could without throwing-up. (It's good to have goals.) My best gal usually has a two beer limit and a, "no, I don't want to do a shot" mantra. So, she's usually my driver. (It's good when friendships can have a strategy where no one dies.)

So, several rounds of beers, several shots. (Her shot count was 11, my shot count was 8) (Her count on beer was 3, my beer count was well over 10)(But, it was Bud Lite, that's really just foamy water.)

The drama included:
a girl and guy in out class hooking up over the weekend. I've been waiting for this occurrence to happen for about three weeks. I love people watching and observing what others don't/can't see.
He told me nothing happened. She was quite open about what happened.
So, I got the scoop on that little story.

Aforementioned girl and her boyfriend/fiance officially broke-up last week. (I got the scoop on the break-up as well.)

Another girl, who no one really likes yet, she is invited more so as not to be left out than as someone who wants to be included, was confronted about God, religion, heaven, hell, and all things holy and mighty.
She left the bar in tears.
She is a preacher's daughter.
Oh, the turmoil.
There was a long phone call from the bathroom on my phone, but not with me talking on it, aforementioned break-up/hook-up girl was talking her off the proverbial Mount Holiness.

My best girl and her guy broke-up (but, I didn't get that scoop until today) and he professed all of his love and heart to her in a drunken stupor.
She told him to stop it and she was not impressed. (Good girl.)

I was lying through the bottom of my beer mug telling everyone how excited I was about Brazil (Why go into it, ya know?)

St. Pat's one-nighter was there at the bar. (Crap.) Which he (tried to) make me feel bad about not coming over sooner to say hi. At which point I told him I believed his legs worked and he could have walked over to me. He then proceeded to blame me for not calling him. At which point I told him that I didn't realize his phone worked at any other time except 2 a.m. and that one special time at 4:30 a.m. His friend leaned into the conversation, at which time I asked him if I could help him with something, cause he could go away. (Yeah, sometimes it's not good to push me and it's really never a good idea to blame ridiculous things on me.)He left in a huff.

I actually had a good time. (I know. Blame the beer.) (and Jager.) (and so-co and lime) (and the lemon drop) and (the so-co and lime.) (and the Jager) (and two others I cannot remember.) I managed to walk into and walk out of the drama throughout the night. You know, say the compassionate thing, be the friend, go order another beer and take another shot, be the fly in the room that is inadvertently hearing three conversations and watching the world melt-down around me.

Yeah, it was ridiculous, but alcohol will do that.
So will being around people under the age of 25.
Ah, remember those days?
Aren'tchay glad it's no longer you?

Oh, when my guy friend (and current crush, just waiting for the impending and inevitable break-up with his current gal) called the next afternoon at 11:30 a.m. to ask where the drinking was going to be. I said I was still drunk. After a large sandwich to absorb the remaining alcohol from the night before, he and I drank the afternoon away. Ah, semester breaks and life not working out as planned.

P.S. No update on my visa, but there have been some interesting life developments. More later as I know more.


ptg said...

Ahhh...being 25. Considering my day is next week, 25 sounds...well, young.

I think that's a sign that I'm officially old. Or at least older. (And know where to party now!)

limpy99 said...

The best Jager story I've heard is from Dave Atell,describing his ideal Jager ad paoster:

"There's a guy, let's call him me, fucking the left eye of a jack-'o- lantern. And the guy's saying 'if that pumpkin didn't want it, than why was it smiling at me?', and below that it says


I'll stick with tequila. And scotch. And whiskey. And beer. And..oh fuck it, pass the jager.

TachaƩ said...

Im only 22 but its good to know some things will never change.

GirlGoyle said...

All that in one night....sounds exhausting. Now I know why I get to my limit and though I seemingly function just fine I never remember shit in the morning.