So Wasted

2:43 a.m.

I got wasted last night. Good Lord.

We had decided earlier in the week that we were going to go to The Tap, yet another college bar that tends to inhabit these college towns. I realize before that I said that I hate bars and clubs, and that still applies, but this place was so nice. They played music that I liked, the drinks actually had some fucking alcohol in them, and it wasn't overbearingly filled with smoke.

I have no idea how many drinks I had. All I remember of my actual drinking was Joe, the filthy Devil on my shoulder, constantly telling me that I needed another one. All he and Ryan drank that night was beer. Feeling like the loser that drinks non-beer, I bought one myself. I only drank like a quarter of it. Beer tastes like piss.

I had Amaretto Sours and Screwdrivers all night until I thought I was going to puke. Those things were strong considering that they cost $1.

As soon as I felt buzzed I managed to alienate myself from all the Pamela Andersons that sat at the same table as us by leaning over to Amy and whispering (not quietly enough, obviously), "All those girlies look the same." This made Amy laugh incredibly hard, so I punctuated it with, "I think that they're sisters/clones of sisters. With big boobs." I got a dirty look from one of them and I noticed that they didn't stay too long after that. Whatever. I overheard their cell phone conversations when we first came in and they were idiots.

From this point I proceeded to grow substantially more and more drunk. Let me tell you about me when I begin to grow somewhat shit-faced. I laugh. A lot. Almost to where I attempt to have entire conversations that consist of nothing but me laughing. I laugh, which makes Amy laugh, and knowing that my laughing made Amy laugh makes me laugh harder, and it just goes downhill from there.

I actually remember just about everything that happened last night. I think maybe by drinking more I'm overcoming my black-out problem. But that's mostly an unfounded theory from my Big Book of Talking Out of My Ass.

I almost got into a fight with this one guy when I went to the bathroom. That's the gist of what I told my friends but it's not the whole story - I was saving it to lay out here.

First off, actually getting to the bathroom was a chore. I hadn't really walked a whole lot since getting to the bar, and having to cross the whole place to get to the little boy's room was enough to show me how incredibly inebriated I was. I laughed at complete strangers for no reason, I couldn't even remotely walk in a straight line, so I kept bumping into people (this comes into play later), and at one point on the trip I almost fell on my face, only to catch the hand of this one chick who laughed at me because she thought I was doing some kind of chivalry thing where I get on one knee. Sorry, lady, I just didn't want to pass out. I kissed her hand anyway and then said, way too bluntly and far too childishly, "Time to piss in the pisser."

I manage to get to the bathroom, take care of myself, and then trip again just getting to the sink to wash my hands. This one guy steadies me and asks if I'm going to make it and I say (no shit): "Hell, yeah, I'm so fucking awesome right now."

Once my hands are washed I begin to make my way back. Here's where things get hairy. Because, you see, I bump into a big, hairy guy. He's dressed in full regal cowboy gear, which immediately makes me hate him. But what makes me hate him more is his reaction.

Big Guy: What the fuck?!
Lee: Yooooooo, man.
Big Guy: I almost spilled my drink!
Lee: Man, it's a good thing you caught that. *laughs longer than is necessary for the non-joke*
Big Guy: You should watch where the fuck you're going!
Lee: Damn, dude, I gotta go.
Big Guy: Damn straight you do. Keep on walking, pal.
Lee: No, you don't even understand. I have got to gooooooooo. I gotta....oh, shit fuck. I already goed already. *laughs even more* Never mind, biggo guy, I already goed.
Big Guy: What in the hell is your problem?
Lee: You're mean like a grizzly bear. You need to be good like a bunny. Ha ha ha ha ha! With the ears and the poof tail, and OH MY GAWD HA HA HA HA HA!
*Big Guy proceeds to take one full step towards me before the guy he's with grabs his shoulder and pulls him back*
Lee: Damn, I'm sorry, biggo man. You're cool. We're friends. But I seriously gotta goooooooo! See you later!
*Lee stumbles his way back to his bar stool*
Joe: What's up, man?
Lee: Dude, that was crazy. I think I almost got in a fight. It's cool, though.

This falls into the category of "How do I find myself in these situations?" My friends are enamored with these, so I had to save it for the written form, because as most people know, I relate these events much better here than I do verbally.

The rest of the night in the bar is sort of hazy, mostly because I think it was pretty uneventful. The place kept getting more crowded which meant that they kept turning up the music more and more, until eventually none of us could hear each other. So we decided to go. Or rather, I pushed for us to leave. For once, I might have been able to stay longer, but I noticed Ryan hadn't been looking like he was really all into it for a while, and it sucks ass to be in one of these places if you're not feeling it and having fun like everyone else. I know this from experience.

Leaving was insane. The place had gotten so crowded that there was literally a line running outside to get in. I felt sorry for those people. There was no way they were getting in, I knew, because that place was already fucking packed, and the drink specials had already ended anyway. Get there early, kids. Because no matter how much of a square you may look, you get drunk sooner and it costs you less to do so.

Amy had to drive us home in my car. This bar is really, really close to us, so as soon as we were home Amy, Joe and I turned right back around and went back to fetch Joe's car. Ryan went to bed.

The moment we got in Joe's car he had to plead with Amy not to hurt it. "It's my baby," he said, petting his dash. "My baby, my baby. I had babies with my baby."

"It's twue," I said. "I saw him make da babies. It was M1 nasty to the max."

There was a Subway in the same area so we stopped there really fast and went in and I made my best attempt to order for me and Joe while he was in the bathroom. I'm not so sure if all my words came out right.

"I wanna Chicken Pisserolio sammich. Wif the garlic bread. My friend is in the bafoom, but I fink he wantsh a Italian BM," I stated simply.

The guy who worked there was very understanding. "Chicken Pizziola on Roasted Garlic Bread. Italian B.M.T. on what kind of bread?"

"Shhhh....shhheeit. Italian. Yeah. Italian bread." I have no idea if that's what Joe wanted. I was just matching words. He didn't complain, though. So I guess it was a good bread for him.

On the way back Joe exclaimed, "Holy shit! Let's go swimming!"

I backed him up with, "Fuck yeah! No. Yeah, let's do it!"

Amy agreed and when we got back to my apartment she went to hers while Joe and I changed. We walked over to Amy's apartment and burst in, immediately loud and boisterous.

Lee: 'eeeeeyyyyy! Where is ever'body? Ammmmyyyyy! Saaarrraaaaaa!
Joe: Yo! Yo! What's up?
Lee: Oh. Oh...Oh, HOLY GOD! They have cookies! Jesus! Bean-Crap, these cookies are fucking huge! Who made these?!
Amy (from other room): Sara made 'em!
Lee: Sara! Shit-nuggets! Sara! I have to have one!
Sara: *laughing* You can have one.
Lee: *moans orgasmically as he bites into a cookie*

Joe by this point has found Sara and Amy's big rubber exercise balls and has begun playing with one. By the time Sara and Amy come out I have started bouncing on the other one. It takes both of them to keep me from falling over as I am completely unable to keep my balance. Unfortunately, all this sudden flurry of activity makes me sick to my stomach and I run to throw the rest of the cookie away as the sight of it immediately makes me want to vomit. I'd rather not do that in their apartment.

I steady myself against the wall for a while and close my eyes, trying to ignore everything else for a moment. Amy asks if I'm okay and by that point I am, so we head out to the pool.

This part I don't remember too well. I recall talking with Amy about the guy she's been "sort of dating" for a long time, and I vaguely remember long bouts of unwarranted laughter in the hot tub. Other than that, the pool portion of the evening is pretty hazy. All I know of it is that it ended with me in my own bed and a visit from the Sandman, that crantankerous fun-ruining old bastard.

The sad thing is, drunk as I was last night, I've already made plans to go back there with Joe tomorrow night to be his Wing-Man. I care not for myself, but it's becoming more abundantly clear that Joe's pent-up anguish will only be cured by him getting laid. As his friend I therefore must do anything in my power short of hiring a trio of midgets to make this happen for him.

Speaking of midgets, and just so you can get a feel for the sort of people we are, this is a snippet of conversation Joe and I had earlier today.

Lee: Joe, could you ever love a midget?
Joe: I would love to laugh at them.
Lee: What if you and your future wife have a kid, and your kid is a midget?
Joe: ...
Lee: ...
Joe: ...I would have to love it.
Lee: That was almost beautiful until you called your future child an "it."
Joe: Sorry. I would have to love it in the circus, which I'm going to sell it to.

Nobody ever claimed that my friends and I were politically correct.

Listening To: Garbage - When I Grow Up, Ben Folds Five - Fired, Soul Coughing - Super BonBon, Revis - Caught in the Rain

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