Plank?

Scanning grocery items gets old fast.  Michelle and I, at work, discuss the usual nonsense; she, detailing her drunken rage in hull the night before.

We start talking about sleepovers in roommates rooms.  I ask her why she doesn’t have more of them, as I love sleeping in anyone’s bed but my own.  Michelle explains that she past out in one of her roommates rooms inebriated one evening at the beginning of the year.  She wakes up to splinters of wood all over her and her roommate’s bed.

“My roommate was so pissed, apparently I fell asleep on a plank of wood,”

Clearly destroying said plank in her drunken sleep.

Amusing, I think so….

Jet Lagged Drunk

One of the best drinking experiences, perhaps of my life, happened on my second trip to France. Thomas, my old exchange partner, picked me up from the train station along with his sister and her friend. After spending the last 31 hours in airports and on planes we decided a drink was in order- only after we spent a couple hours at the beach of course.

Now this bar was packed body to body, with masses of people streaming in and out the entrance. The only way to get in was to mould into the crowd and push.push.push; past everyone-drinks in hand. Spilling was necessary at some points; luckily no one seemed to mind- I mean I spilt some on a lady’s head without her even noticing.

We are served these little shot glasses of this strong, super cheap wine which to this day I am still oblivious to. The 1.50€ drinks lead to multiple rounds while we huddled in a circle; attempting to reflect everyone pushing around us.
Needless to say, we all got drunk really fast. I started looking around and began noticing what an odd array of people there were. There were old and young, weird and normal but everyone seemed to be in the moment, having a good time without a care in the world.

When we got home, Constance, Thomas and I sat down to eat. All of us fumbling with our cutlery and dropping them to the floor time and time again. His parents just laughed at how drunk we were and were amazed I was still even awake.

Tuesday night and my roommates tell me we are going to a cool bar with sick DJs on an outdoor patio.  Optimistically, I Imagine a rooftop sky bar overlooking the city.  But no, it was more like a restaurant patio in front of the Parliament buildings- not as classy as I had hoped.

After a few gin and gingers and an entire pitcher of Stella to myself, my confidence soars. I find myself talking to a girl at our table.  She begins telling me she’s German but her family moved to Ohio and now she’s in Ottawa going to Algonquin.  I’m not what you’d call a Don Juan; Kinda shy, a little unsure of myself, but tonight’s plan seems like it might work out.

As the night progresses, she begins telling me about her boyfriend.  Oh No, right?  Well in my mind I thought it wouldn’t be a problem, I mean she was pretty inebriated.

We end the night with a drunken dance where she repeatedly tries to dip me against my will.  Keep in mind this girl was maybe half my height if she’s lucky. We begin walking back to Sandy Hill when she insists we need to go to the METRO.  There she finds fettuccine Alfredo and even buys me one too.

At her place she pops her fettuccine in the microwave and as soon as it’s finished she grabs a fork and says, “Okay I’m going to my room, goodnight”,  leaves and shuts the door.  I, drunk as fuck and still in a good mood, pop mine in and then sit and eat with her roommates as they watch Alfred Hitchcock’s, BIRDS.

I finish and thank them for letting me enjoy my meal and continue on my way home.   I am strolling down the street when I notice a cat in the corner of my eye.  I look down and suddenly realized that it’s not a cat. It’s a skunk. I start running and so does he, both of us managing to avoid a fatal collision.

Well, I didn’t get any but at least I was fed right?

Jamie Foxx is an Asshole

Jamie Foxx is an asshole.

Post By Sam Fro( Jacksonville, Florida)
I fancy myself a responsible person. I work more than two jobs, go to school, keep a social life, work with my parents and keep it real -all at the same time.  However, I recently found myself with a full two days off from everything and instead of lounging and relaxing, I completely destroyed myself.

Do you ever have moments like that? Where you know you’re making the worst decision for yourself, but you’re kind of just like, “Eh. Fuck it.”? I didn’t just drink. I didn’t just smoke. Instead I inhaled alcohol. I probably gave myself cancer. I was naked more than anyone should ever be, and with no regret or shame. In the moment, I felt great.

On the other hand, the next morning, when you’re hungover and everyone is reminding you of how you thought the Truffle Shuffle was the coolest dance move, and how you skipped out on a threesome because, “I’m just too classy for muff diving” , while you’re praying to god the poorly decided Taco Bell combo doesn’t make a cameo appearance in the toilet, you start to hate yourself more and more.

I went back to work with a hangover that felt like crucifixion and a nausea that was definitely related to the second trimester drink baby in my stomach. But I like my job. I like my life. With a few moments of extreme disagreement with my parents and a completely FUBAR sleep schedule, everything is under control. So why do I do it? I think it’s because I’m a naturally self-destructive person with fear of failure. I push myself to extreme limits just to see if I can take it. Or maybe I’m bullshitting myself into a more profound reason, instead of stating what may be alcoholism. Who knows?

What’s the craziest thing you’ve done while intoxicated?
Why do you do it?
Do you think I have a problem?
Do you think YOU have a problem?

Last night we decide Hip Hop night is the destination plan- typical.  As I start drinking 1664 beer I feel my stomach turning and anticipate this night ending poorly.
At Zaphod’s I get another drink and huddle in the coroner of our table as Jessica begins begging everyone to dance.  I accept said offer only to have Jessica flail across the dance floor with no sense of object permanence to those around her.
Finally Ryan is forced to bring Jessie home.  As she gets up she falls into the table beside us knocking the table of drinks and landing in the girls lap.  Classy Lady Always

.

* I decided to experiment writing while completely plastered and this is what I came up with.

This drunken oblivion is yet again another rationale for the tarnished thoughts that I long ago abandoned. Hypocrisy only provides an attenuate for such progress in my new world order. The modern textiles of my new element create an atmosphere of both intimacy and sterility. Perhaps the vulnerability to perceive its sterile amenities create a more distinctive façade than anticipated.
How many times can I exhaust the deities of air in order to float above the clouds. The paranoia of these delusional episodes shares only the oblique. Almost like rain falling from the clouds- plentiful but their existence not solid. These masses have shape and color, appearing as huge objects when in reality they are meaningless?
Sulking to the depths of this sea, I am caught; a monstrous black serpent coming to take me down amongst the trenches bellow. I ask him to stop pulling but he refuses; his coiling around my feet a signature of my demise.

Underage

Were at Lisa’s house with everyone after coming back from a Funereal.  We all sit around the bar pouring drinks of JD and Appleton’s- keep in mind it was only 2pm.   Eventually our melancholy nature becomes laughter and shouting.

Jessica is being hassled by Jordan and Daveo about why she didn’t beat up these, ‘little bitches’ the other night.  Jess retorts that she is too scared to because she is 20 and could go to jail for beating up underage girls.  She continues to say they could take her license plate and catch her.  The room laughs and I say, Jess you don’t even have your G2 nor do you own a car.

Mardi Gras Party

About a month ago, 430 Nelson St hosted a Mardi Gras Extravaganza. Throughout the night, dozens and dozens of people poured in and out of our four-bedroom top floor pad. Like any true party, there was no way to get around other than putting your elbows up and shoving through the throngs of intoxicated twenty-somethings. The line for our only bathroom lingered around our laundry room and rumors of sexual assult in empty bedrooms drenched the air. Slowly, the last of the partygoers dwindled and finally we were left alone.

After making sure all of those sleeping over had a pillow or at least a blanket, I headed to my room around four in the morning. In fear that some drunk boy sleeping over would try to sneak into my room for an inebriated one-night-stand, I invited Dillon to sleep over.

Once he got in bed, we decided to have a cigarette. I grabbed the pack, a lighter, and a half-full beer covered in cigarette ash off my desk as our ashtray.

After tossing him a cigarette, I held out the beer can to him and said, “Here you go.”
Without thinking about it, Dillon grabbed hold of the filthy beer and took a big swig. I shouted ‘no’ as his eyes widen. Quickly, he jerked the can away from his mouth and wiped it off, “I thought you were offering me a drink!”

The corners of his mouth littered in black ash, I couldn’t even think of a thing to say.

Night of Mayhem

You know the night is bound to get messy when you start it off by agreeing it needs to end in throwing up. Taking on the dangerous mix of vodka, rockstar, and cigarettes, a huge drunk rush hits us both very quickly. Zaphods being our destination, we hop in the cab masking our alcohol in rockstar energy drink cans.

We stumble into Zaphods and immediately buy a round of drinks. This is where everything starts to become a big blur. As I flirt with the cover boy, I see Dillon approach us, barely able to walk, alongside a bouncer and says, “I’m getting kicked out guys”. So just when we think the night is over, Dillon is just getting started. “We’re going somewhere else guys!”

We decide to go to Heart and Crown, and somehow get in. We sing to terrible fiddle music with old men and, not surprisingly, also get kicked out of Heart and Crown after Dillon tumbles me to the floor- obviously blaming me for the accident.

We brilliantly decide to get shawarma and smoke Hookah.  As we are sitting at the table eating, Dillon knocks over all of our drinks and falls on the floor.  A random guy picks Dillon up and then Dillon bolts out of Shawarma Palace, shawarma in hand and stumbles all over the street and into a taxi.  Melissa and I were so confused as to what just happened. When Melissa calls Dillon to see where he went, he tells us the cab driver felt bad for him so he drove him home for free. Our hookah session quickly comes to an end as I drunkenly knock over the whole contraption, and we decide it would be a good idea to get the hell out of there.

We come home to Dillon throwing up in the bathroom sink, then the toilet, and finally he crawls into the bath tub fully clothed and turns the shower on. On all fours and drenched he continues to throw up, and when he try to turn the shower off he yells at us.  This morning we wake up and Dillon asks what happened.  His memory of the evening stopped at Zaphods, quite shocked he replies, What the Fuck?  Excellent evening; perhaps somewhat too ridiculous. PS Your shwarma is in the fridge Dillon.

How to not get laid!

Vicky and I are beyond wasted last Thusday in celebration of Hip-Hop Night at Zaphods. We are dancing around like utter fools, when I decide it is imperitive that I pee. I disappear into the myriad of people, fumbling around drunkenly when I finally arrive to the staircase. As I begin my descent, I cross the path of two guys who are returning to the bar.

“What does your shirt say?” One of them asks me, pointing at my favorite Dim Mak t-shirt that I cut up into a tubetop.

I excitedly inform him that it says, “I’m Losing My Fucking Mind.”

The boy grins and retorts with, “Wanna lose your virgnity next?”

I stare at him in shock for a second. Seriously, what the fuck? Not only was it creepy, I was kind of insulted. So gentlemen, please use your head when addressing bitches at the bar, because even though we’re drunk…being a douche bag will never get you laid.