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I Don't Understand Getting Drunk
Mar. 14th, 2011 06:00 pmAnd now allow me to immediately backtrack from that statement. I do understand the mechanics behind getting shitfaced. Also, I'm not a prude in any way, I do drink myself, though not heavily or very often. I've never said to myself, "I'm bored; well, might as well go drink until I confuse the ceiling with the floor." Nor have I gone out with the intention of drinking until I no longer could get myself home without assistance.
But what I don't understand is people who, knowingly, let themselves get to that point. Who say, "Ima gonna get crunk!" and then proceed to do so. I get what it does; you lose hard control of your senses, so everything is muddled and "awesome", at least until it catches up with you and becomes "less awesome". To the point of being sick; actually past that point, to the point of bad hangover. Why do that to yourself? Personally, I hate that feeling of not being in control of my senses. Almost as soon as I realize my vision is starting to motion-blur on me, I cut myself off and hit the water (or soda). Because I don't want to be "that guy" who can't stand up or walk straight. When the bar cuts you off and security mans the bathroom while you find religion and worship at the porcilien alter, you're bad.
I do make allowances for people who are having a legitimately good time and just get carried away. Having fun can get away from you, so I'm not condemning all who get drunk sometimes. It's the one's who make it a goal.
What brings this all to mind is, I went to a bar last night. Strange for me, since I normally don't really do the bar scene. At all. The only bar I wish to frequent as often as I do is not so much a "bar" as it is an video arcade that sells booze after a certain hour.
Back to storytime, it was my roommate's sister's birthday. She came down from hometown to party it up Portland style, and brought with her one girlfriend and two other friends, also girls. Roommate had his boyfriend. I had myself, but I'm used to it and it wasn't a big deal. The party started around 4:30 or so, mainly just a lot of joking, telling stories, roommate and sister being hilarious when together, and vegan pizza. Also, four bottles of wine was downed. Around 8 or so we all headed down to the Sunday night drag show at the big gay bar in town, because nothing says "Happy Birthday Sis" than watching drag-queen after drag-queen lip-sync to songs you've only heard on classic lite-rock and soundtracks of 70's and 80's movies.
Really, it wasn't that bad as I make it sound; some of them are talented at what they do, and when they stopped singing and did some standup routines it was freaking hilarious. There was really only one who didn't seem all that into it, maybe she'd been doing it too long to care any more and it was routine for her at this point, since her only move was "slutty deep knee-bend step" back and forth while you watched her mouth move but never felt the voice you heard could maybe be coming from her. At least the good ones put energy behind it, or just sometimes forgo the whole thing to let out a queeny insult or two at the audience. And then there was a small bit by some actors from group doing a play called "Mommy Queerest"; yes, it's exactly what you think it is. And it includes a song, song for the locals, called "All That Jiz", a nice little parody from the Chicago songtrack. Good fun.
Being the drag show was at a bar, drinks were to be had. I had all mine bought for me; not because I'm good at getting then, but because I be poor, and the group I was with was cool like that (and didn't at all want to see me "loosened up" after learning I didn't drink often). I took my time, really making all three last me a while, while the others really went at it; not shot-after-shot or nonstop, but they didn't stay dry long. I was given keys pretty early in the night, since I was most likely going to be the only one drivable.
The night was fun, the girls had a hoot shoving ones down the cleavages of the drag queens, and drinks were drank. Sister, who's birthday it was, seemed to finally run out of fun; she really slowed down and was quiet and leaning against her girlfriend's shoulder for a bit. Then she disappeared to the bathroom. For a while. Yeah, when your girlfriend comes back looking for her brother with a no-joking face on, you know the night's done and it was time to close shop. I don't know if she puked, but she definitely dry heaved some. The most I could do was when I saw the girls holding her hair over the sink was get some rubberbands from the closest bartender and pass them on to them.
Yeeeaaaah, she really needed help walking. It was good night, depending on how you looked at it. All the females piled into their car, one of them was the double-D and was able to handle the wheel, while the sister just looked miserable and I could only guess how'd she feel the next morning. I took roommate and boyfriend home, getting plenty of "Driving Miss Daisy" comments, as well as some messing with me while I drove, but they weren't bad, just that annoying drunk that's funny if your drunk as well, but not to anyone else really. Got home safe, everyone heads to bed, and I get the last laugh when the next morning I'm the only one without a headache.
Getting back to my original point, I understand this kind of night. It's fun (until it's not) and there's people to help take care of things (and you) and it may not have gotten to that point, just water wasn't spaced between drinks enough (or thinking about it, at all). But I still don't get people who make that their night's mission. The ones who aim, and achieve, that point of not being able to take care yourself.
Maybe it's because I'm just not that much a drinker (which several people have told me that means it will be hilarious (for them) when they finally manage to get me to that state) and stop before I ever reach a point I can't. Because I don't really like the taste of much wine and almost no beer, I just haven't been subject to consuming until I can't. Frankly, I'm okay with that. I can get headaches all on my own, thanks, I don't need the help of anything else. I'll drink to enjoy, but still make sure I am enjoying myself.
But what I don't understand is people who, knowingly, let themselves get to that point. Who say, "Ima gonna get crunk!" and then proceed to do so. I get what it does; you lose hard control of your senses, so everything is muddled and "awesome", at least until it catches up with you and becomes "less awesome". To the point of being sick; actually past that point, to the point of bad hangover. Why do that to yourself? Personally, I hate that feeling of not being in control of my senses. Almost as soon as I realize my vision is starting to motion-blur on me, I cut myself off and hit the water (or soda). Because I don't want to be "that guy" who can't stand up or walk straight. When the bar cuts you off and security mans the bathroom while you find religion and worship at the porcilien alter, you're bad.
I do make allowances for people who are having a legitimately good time and just get carried away. Having fun can get away from you, so I'm not condemning all who get drunk sometimes. It's the one's who make it a goal.
What brings this all to mind is, I went to a bar last night. Strange for me, since I normally don't really do the bar scene. At all. The only bar I wish to frequent as often as I do is not so much a "bar" as it is an video arcade that sells booze after a certain hour.
Back to storytime, it was my roommate's sister's birthday. She came down from hometown to party it up Portland style, and brought with her one girlfriend and two other friends, also girls. Roommate had his boyfriend. I had myself, but I'm used to it and it wasn't a big deal. The party started around 4:30 or so, mainly just a lot of joking, telling stories, roommate and sister being hilarious when together, and vegan pizza. Also, four bottles of wine was downed. Around 8 or so we all headed down to the Sunday night drag show at the big gay bar in town, because nothing says "Happy Birthday Sis" than watching drag-queen after drag-queen lip-sync to songs you've only heard on classic lite-rock and soundtracks of 70's and 80's movies.
Really, it wasn't that bad as I make it sound; some of them are talented at what they do, and when they stopped singing and did some standup routines it was freaking hilarious. There was really only one who didn't seem all that into it, maybe she'd been doing it too long to care any more and it was routine for her at this point, since her only move was "slutty deep knee-bend step" back and forth while you watched her mouth move but never felt the voice you heard could maybe be coming from her. At least the good ones put energy behind it, or just sometimes forgo the whole thing to let out a queeny insult or two at the audience. And then there was a small bit by some actors from group doing a play called "Mommy Queerest"; yes, it's exactly what you think it is. And it includes a song, song for the locals, called "All That Jiz", a nice little parody from the Chicago songtrack. Good fun.
Being the drag show was at a bar, drinks were to be had. I had all mine bought for me; not because I'm good at getting then, but because I be poor, and the group I was with was cool like that (and didn't at all want to see me "loosened up" after learning I didn't drink often). I took my time, really making all three last me a while, while the others really went at it; not shot-after-shot or nonstop, but they didn't stay dry long. I was given keys pretty early in the night, since I was most likely going to be the only one drivable.
The night was fun, the girls had a hoot shoving ones down the cleavages of the drag queens, and drinks were drank. Sister, who's birthday it was, seemed to finally run out of fun; she really slowed down and was quiet and leaning against her girlfriend's shoulder for a bit. Then she disappeared to the bathroom. For a while. Yeah, when your girlfriend comes back looking for her brother with a no-joking face on, you know the night's done and it was time to close shop. I don't know if she puked, but she definitely dry heaved some. The most I could do was when I saw the girls holding her hair over the sink was get some rubberbands from the closest bartender and pass them on to them.
Yeeeaaaah, she really needed help walking. It was good night, depending on how you looked at it. All the females piled into their car, one of them was the double-D and was able to handle the wheel, while the sister just looked miserable and I could only guess how'd she feel the next morning. I took roommate and boyfriend home, getting plenty of "Driving Miss Daisy" comments, as well as some messing with me while I drove, but they weren't bad, just that annoying drunk that's funny if your drunk as well, but not to anyone else really. Got home safe, everyone heads to bed, and I get the last laugh when the next morning I'm the only one without a headache.
Getting back to my original point, I understand this kind of night. It's fun (until it's not) and there's people to help take care of things (and you) and it may not have gotten to that point, just water wasn't spaced between drinks enough (or thinking about it, at all). But I still don't get people who make that their night's mission. The ones who aim, and achieve, that point of not being able to take care yourself.
Maybe it's because I'm just not that much a drinker (which several people have told me that means it will be hilarious (for them) when they finally manage to get me to that state) and stop before I ever reach a point I can't. Because I don't really like the taste of much wine and almost no beer, I just haven't been subject to consuming until I can't. Frankly, I'm okay with that. I can get headaches all on my own, thanks, I don't need the help of anything else. I'll drink to enjoy, but still make sure I am enjoying myself.