My Only Drunken Night
Sep. 26th, 2005 10:05 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kybearfuzzI went to the Serpent tonight to hang out with Paul for a bit. After hearing about my rough work month, Paul gave me a great back and shoulder rub. The man has amazing hands, it felt so good after a tense month. Paul's a great guy :). While chatting with a few guys, I noted that I often drink Diet Coke while others drink beer. It made me recall my only drunken experience. So being one to laugh at myself.. often... I found a photo of this half-remembered experience.
Me, Drunk at 23, with my goofy sister watching from behind
It's hard to recant of my first drunken experience considering that I don't remember all of it. From the more experienced family members who have tied one on, my first and only was a doozy they say. Set the way back machine to 1996...
My sister (as pictured above) was throwing a cookout kegger in the hollow (pronounced "holler") where she lives in Southern KY. It is a great place to throw a loud party because there are no close neighbors and you can make as much noise as you want. All of my cousins and their significant others showed up. There was food, beer, wine cooler.. and soon a rather devious bottle of peppermint schnapps.
I had several wine coolers and then a couple of beers. My cousins Brian and Roger showed up soon with a bottle of "Gold Rush," peppermint schnapps with flakes of gold floating in it. My cousins kept saying that they wouldn't try it, so to be the rebel and to prove something to them, I took swig after swig from that bottle. Things were fine for a while and then... BOOM.. it hit me... My legs grew wobbly and the world seemed to spin about. I had to hang onto the rented tent for support. During the ensuing evening, my cousins kept offering me the bottle, but several accounts say that after a while I was seeking it out. This photo actually shows me holding the cursed exilir (though near empty). I'm probably talking to the photographer with my endorsement for the Gold Rush product.
My memory of the evening is full of holes. At some point I tripped over the grill and amazingly did not get burned. I tripped over folding chairs, cursed out relatives who didn't bother showing up, and went wading through the creek running behind my sister's home (ruining a new pair of Reeboks). I don't remember any of these events. My sister was gracious enough to have taken pictures of this night, like the one above. Nothing like having photographic proof! At some point, my car keys were taken away and so were my glasses.. so not only was I drunk, but I couldn't really see anything anyway.
My sister finally got two of her very cute brothers-in-law to carry me to the front porch of her house. I told both of them how lucky my sister was to have them as family. I was sat on the porch where I carried a conversation with thin air for half an hour.
At some point I was put to bed after the party ended. Now the fun part of the evening for me was just getting started. The potent cocktail of wine coolers, beer, picnic food, and more than half bottle of Gold Rush became more than my system could hold. I barely made it to the bathroom in time to do the full technicolor yawn.. loudly.. at 3 AM. I can't imagine how all of that stuff ended up in me, but once it was all out, my body kept trying to expel my very soul. Through my chest, I believe, from the pain....
After an hour of that, I passed out on the couch. I woke up about five hours later, back in the bathroom going at it again. I woke up the entire house with me. My sister just kept walking past me on the couch and giving me a sly grin. I'd swear it was a look of approval, like I had earned a scout badge in hangovers. I couldn't eat anything and felt like crap. I learned that when you are hungover, no one had any sympathy for you. My mom gave me a several disapproving looks. Ironically, the only person who ever wanted to see me drunk was the twin and he didn't show up to the party.
Needless to say, I was miserable for the next two days. While being all tipsy and stuff was fun (I was labeled the life of the party from many family members), but the morning after and the following day was horrible. So I have not repeated the experience since. I generally cut myself off at two beers now. I'm afraid, Patsy Stone I ain't.
As a joke, a friend bought me a bottle of Gold Rush for my birthday... it sits downstairs to this day. It's a very pretty snow globe. :)
Me, Drunk at 23, with my goofy sister watching from behind
It's hard to recant of my first drunken experience considering that I don't remember all of it. From the more experienced family members who have tied one on, my first and only was a doozy they say. Set the way back machine to 1996...
My sister (as pictured above) was throwing a cookout kegger in the hollow (pronounced "holler") where she lives in Southern KY. It is a great place to throw a loud party because there are no close neighbors and you can make as much noise as you want. All of my cousins and their significant others showed up. There was food, beer, wine cooler.. and soon a rather devious bottle of peppermint schnapps.
I had several wine coolers and then a couple of beers. My cousins Brian and Roger showed up soon with a bottle of "Gold Rush," peppermint schnapps with flakes of gold floating in it. My cousins kept saying that they wouldn't try it, so to be the rebel and to prove something to them, I took swig after swig from that bottle. Things were fine for a while and then... BOOM.. it hit me... My legs grew wobbly and the world seemed to spin about. I had to hang onto the rented tent for support. During the ensuing evening, my cousins kept offering me the bottle, but several accounts say that after a while I was seeking it out. This photo actually shows me holding the cursed exilir (though near empty). I'm probably talking to the photographer with my endorsement for the Gold Rush product.
My memory of the evening is full of holes. At some point I tripped over the grill and amazingly did not get burned. I tripped over folding chairs, cursed out relatives who didn't bother showing up, and went wading through the creek running behind my sister's home (ruining a new pair of Reeboks). I don't remember any of these events. My sister was gracious enough to have taken pictures of this night, like the one above. Nothing like having photographic proof! At some point, my car keys were taken away and so were my glasses.. so not only was I drunk, but I couldn't really see anything anyway.
My sister finally got two of her very cute brothers-in-law to carry me to the front porch of her house. I told both of them how lucky my sister was to have them as family. I was sat on the porch where I carried a conversation with thin air for half an hour.
At some point I was put to bed after the party ended. Now the fun part of the evening for me was just getting started. The potent cocktail of wine coolers, beer, picnic food, and more than half bottle of Gold Rush became more than my system could hold. I barely made it to the bathroom in time to do the full technicolor yawn.. loudly.. at 3 AM. I can't imagine how all of that stuff ended up in me, but once it was all out, my body kept trying to expel my very soul. Through my chest, I believe, from the pain....
After an hour of that, I passed out on the couch. I woke up about five hours later, back in the bathroom going at it again. I woke up the entire house with me. My sister just kept walking past me on the couch and giving me a sly grin. I'd swear it was a look of approval, like I had earned a scout badge in hangovers. I couldn't eat anything and felt like crap. I learned that when you are hungover, no one had any sympathy for you. My mom gave me a several disapproving looks. Ironically, the only person who ever wanted to see me drunk was the twin and he didn't show up to the party.
Needless to say, I was miserable for the next two days. While being all tipsy and stuff was fun (I was labeled the life of the party from many family members), but the morning after and the following day was horrible. So I have not repeated the experience since. I generally cut myself off at two beers now. I'm afraid, Patsy Stone I ain't.
As a joke, a friend bought me a bottle of Gold Rush for my birthday... it sits downstairs to this day. It's a very pretty snow globe. :)
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no subject
Date: 2005-09-27 11:00 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-09-27 01:03 pm (UTC)Between a beer and a diet coke, the diet coke usually wins. :)