It should come as no surprise that New Years Eve resides squarely in my hatebox. All the mother fuckers who don't go out every Friday and Saturday night like my bourgeois ass feel the need to get ridiculously drunk and lay hands on everyone around them in the "spirit of the new year". I, for one, respect my fellow man enough to know that laying hands on another man for any reason beyond a firm handshake is a proposition to fight to the death. So it was against my better judgment to go out last night with the one-night-a-year revelers and partake in their celebration. I say it was "their" celebration because time, and thus the switch from 2003 to 2004, is virtually irrelevant in the scheme of things, I'm only interested in fiscal quarters, and I only recognize the GMT standard of telling time which meant my 1Q04 started at 6:00 pm when I was still at the fucking office doing the do.
As much as I hate to say it, last night really got a hold of me. The brownouts started particularly early and while I have an extensive list of memories I don't remember what happened in between the bulk of these flashes of consciousness. I'll attempt to chronologically break down my fucked up memories.
- Everything was fine until just after midnight and the bottle of Dom I bought for all the waitresses. Perhaps mixing beer with tequila, bourbon, apple Puckers, and champagne was the onset of my downfall.
- I remember The Dog, Count Drecula, and the Duke of Whales arriving at some point. I know I conversed with them at length but I have no idea what the topics might have been.
- I further seem to recall that bouncers were ejecting both Count Drecula from the bar at some point and the Duke of Whales trying to take him home. I wasn't present for the debacle but there were groups of people very worked up over the situation running amok in the bar after closing. The requisite drug dealer seemed particularly agitated for reasons unbeknownst to me.
- I left the bar at some time I estimate to be between 2:30 and 3:00
- I went to Lucas' apartment and the brownouts began hitting with more frequency.
- I know that Mustang, Serotonin, and Dave's Daughter arrived at some point.
- I don't know what conversation, if any, that I may have had with them.
- I remember getting an intense case of 'the fear' and I stole myself into Lucas' closet. Why I sat in his closet and didn't drive home is something I question even now. It was one of the more bizarre things I've done while extremely over served, right up there next to that time I pissed in the women's dressing room at Oshmans Supersport.
- I'm not at liberty to say how long I sat in Lucas's closet since I have no idea. Somehow Lucas did find me in there though and I remember being mildly lucid enough to explain with some eloquence why the fuck I was holed up in there. Of course, it could have just been slurred blather. Lucas asked me if I would like to share my company with a trashcan, at first I refused the invitation, but on a second thought decided I could use some company of that nature.
- Things became even more hazy.
- I remember everyone coming to look at the spectacle in Luke's closet, no doubt quite a site to behold.
- I remember doing some light refunding into the provided trashcan.
- Later, I fell out of Lucas' closet onto the floor of his bedroom and lay there for a spell
- At some point either a rush of adrenaline or a moment of clarity caused me to leave Lucas' room, rush outside the apartment with my trashcan, and dump its contents at the end of a hallway. I then returned inside and disposed of the trashcan, although I have no idea where I may have put it.
- With my meager wits still about me I again left the apartment, Mustang was outside and I feigned bum rushing him and I remember him being a bit concerned given the extreme level of inebriation I was experiencing. Without a word to my host or to my other friends I sauntered out to my car and began driving home.
There are, thankfully infrequent, times when I know I'm too over served to drive. The trip I took last night topped the list. The Daystar was cresting the horizon which meant I had been in Lucas' closet for quite a while. I remember swerving quite a bit without the ability to maintain a strait course. Had I been in a wreck this would most certainly have been one of the few times where the intoxicated person was responsible. Worse yet, had John Law seen me at all I would have been immediately imprisoned. My reservoirs of luck mana were deep enough to see me safely home though. The feeling I get when I park my car at my sack apartment complex is satisfying beyond measure; one more night of avoiding the inevitable. My next memory saw me in my apartment, but at this point I was completely blacked out.
I woke up at 2:00pm and felt like dog shit. My mental conditioning that says I will not sleep in my bed without first taking a shower held true and I found myself lying naked across the comforter of my bed. My clothes were strewn about with the exception of my pants which I hung up (booya), I even took the collar stays out of my shirt and rolled up my tie which was also an unexpected surprise. The feeling of my brain pulsating wildly in my skull was, on the other hand, entirely expected. Fortunately, my small stockpile of Valiums has me in a state of mild euphoria. I think I'm going to go lay on my couch, order a pie, and enjoy today's football games. I don't intend to think about last night any more, ever again. Fuck you new years. My new years prediction and my new years resolution is that I won't see 2005.
ps: it has come to my attention that the blame for Count Drecula and the Duke of Whales' ejection from the club has been placed on my head. Natrually, this doesn't make sense because they are my friends so there was obviously some confusion. Unfortunately, at the time all of that nonsense was going on I was in deep conversation with the manager of Rick's Cabaret, one of the better gentlemen's clubs in the Big Funky, about some fucked up hybrid fish that supposedly costs $1500.
As much as I hate to say it, last night really got a hold of me. The brownouts started particularly early and while I have an extensive list of memories I don't remember what happened in between the bulk of these flashes of consciousness. I'll attempt to chronologically break down my fucked up memories.
- Everything was fine until just after midnight and the bottle of Dom I bought for all the waitresses. Perhaps mixing beer with tequila, bourbon, apple Puckers, and champagne was the onset of my downfall.
- I remember The Dog, Count Drecula, and the Duke of Whales arriving at some point. I know I conversed with them at length but I have no idea what the topics might have been.
- I further seem to recall that bouncers were ejecting both Count Drecula from the bar at some point and the Duke of Whales trying to take him home. I wasn't present for the debacle but there were groups of people very worked up over the situation running amok in the bar after closing. The requisite drug dealer seemed particularly agitated for reasons unbeknownst to me.
- I left the bar at some time I estimate to be between 2:30 and 3:00
- I went to Lucas' apartment and the brownouts began hitting with more frequency.
- I know that Mustang, Serotonin, and Dave's Daughter arrived at some point.
- I don't know what conversation, if any, that I may have had with them.
- I remember getting an intense case of 'the fear' and I stole myself into Lucas' closet. Why I sat in his closet and didn't drive home is something I question even now. It was one of the more bizarre things I've done while extremely over served, right up there next to that time I pissed in the women's dressing room at Oshmans Supersport.
- I'm not at liberty to say how long I sat in Lucas's closet since I have no idea. Somehow Lucas did find me in there though and I remember being mildly lucid enough to explain with some eloquence why the fuck I was holed up in there. Of course, it could have just been slurred blather. Lucas asked me if I would like to share my company with a trashcan, at first I refused the invitation, but on a second thought decided I could use some company of that nature.
- Things became even more hazy.
- I remember everyone coming to look at the spectacle in Luke's closet, no doubt quite a site to behold.
- I remember doing some light refunding into the provided trashcan.
- Later, I fell out of Lucas' closet onto the floor of his bedroom and lay there for a spell
- At some point either a rush of adrenaline or a moment of clarity caused me to leave Lucas' room, rush outside the apartment with my trashcan, and dump its contents at the end of a hallway. I then returned inside and disposed of the trashcan, although I have no idea where I may have put it.
- With my meager wits still about me I again left the apartment, Mustang was outside and I feigned bum rushing him and I remember him being a bit concerned given the extreme level of inebriation I was experiencing. Without a word to my host or to my other friends I sauntered out to my car and began driving home.
There are, thankfully infrequent, times when I know I'm too over served to drive. The trip I took last night topped the list. The Daystar was cresting the horizon which meant I had been in Lucas' closet for quite a while. I remember swerving quite a bit without the ability to maintain a strait course. Had I been in a wreck this would most certainly have been one of the few times where the intoxicated person was responsible. Worse yet, had John Law seen me at all I would have been immediately imprisoned. My reservoirs of luck mana were deep enough to see me safely home though. The feeling I get when I park my car at my sack apartment complex is satisfying beyond measure; one more night of avoiding the inevitable. My next memory saw me in my apartment, but at this point I was completely blacked out.
I woke up at 2:00pm and felt like dog shit. My mental conditioning that says I will not sleep in my bed without first taking a shower held true and I found myself lying naked across the comforter of my bed. My clothes were strewn about with the exception of my pants which I hung up (booya), I even took the collar stays out of my shirt and rolled up my tie which was also an unexpected surprise. The feeling of my brain pulsating wildly in my skull was, on the other hand, entirely expected. Fortunately, my small stockpile of Valiums has me in a state of mild euphoria. I think I'm going to go lay on my couch, order a pie, and enjoy today's football games. I don't intend to think about last night any more, ever again. Fuck you new years. My new years prediction and my new years resolution is that I won't see 2005.
ps: it has come to my attention that the blame for Count Drecula and the Duke of Whales' ejection from the club has been placed on my head. Natrually, this doesn't make sense because they are my friends so there was obviously some confusion. Unfortunately, at the time all of that nonsense was going on I was in deep conversation with the manager of Rick's Cabaret, one of the better gentlemen's clubs in the Big Funky, about some fucked up hybrid fish that supposedly costs $1500.
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