There was a time, not that long ago, where I could get rip-roarin’ drunk and get up early and go to work the next day. It sucked, but I managed. Hell, sometimes I’d get off work and start the whole process over again.

That time is gone. I’ll be 26 next Monday, and I think I am out of my drinking prime. I’ve uttered the words never again in reference to drinking a couple thousand times in my life, but I think I actually may have meant it yesterday morning.

I know I’m probably not supposed to admit to my blogging mistakes, but I have no sense of etiquette. My original intent this weekend was to post a Happy 4th of July post on Saturday. I originally was going to write it Friday and schedule it for Saturday, but then when that didn’t happen, I was like oh, no biggie, I’ll write it tomorrow. I should’ve known better. Then I was going to write it yesterday, but I was far too hungover.

So, here I am. On Monday evening. Sitting in bed, my “murder-rape show” (Tate’s name for true crime shows) on in the background, writing this post.

I woke up pretty early on Saturday. Well, early for me, at least. Tate started at about 11am, and I was up by 11:30ish. Tate was bringing his smoker over to my brother’s house, where we would be hanging out that night. We showed up to the house, set up the smoker and helped out with the other food. The usual.

Then my niece and I went outside so I could give her some tips and tricks to use with the new volleyball I bought her. She mentioned that she was going to try out next year and, since I played from 7th grade until 11th, I figured I’m the best one to help her out. I warned her that her forearms were going to hurt like hell for the first few days of playing and told her not to buy shoes with thick soles, or she could turn her ankle. I think I really got her pumped to play. (Judging by her face when I told her those things, that might be a lie…)

Then I started drinking. I was being good at first. Just some light beer. Shouldn’t be a problem. I forgot that I hadn’t eaten. Didn’t forget to get the second and third beers, though. Apparently I am not only getting horrible hangovers these days, but I’ve also turned into a light weight. Three beers back in the day was child’s play. On Saturday, however, three beers almost took me down. I had to jump in the pool.

"...to more bad choices." http://tinyurl.com/ou3j7nn
“…to more bad choices.”
http://tinyurl.com/ou3j7nn

I got out of the pool feeling much more sober and ate a pulled pork sandwich. Food and cold-water-induced-sobriety and I was back at it. Tate and I found these huge “party cups” at Wal-Mart and why wouldn’t we buy them? It was a mistake. Such a huge mistake.

They’re about twice the size of a regular Solo cup, and I had four cups full of mixed drinks. The first three were Jack & Coke’s, each with a more liberal use of liquor than the last. Then I ran out of Coke. No worries, though, because something happens to a drunk person without a mixer. We become masters at improvising. I had the Jack Daniel’s, I just needed something that would take the bite out of it. I found ginger ale. The result was a drink that looked brown. That’s how bad the Jack Daniels to ginger ale ratio was.

I start losing memories as the sun went down. I remember playing with the volleyball in the pool and fighting with my brother’s Labrador puppy every time she jumped into the pool to catch the ball, which was just too adorable. I remember watching the fireworks. My brother bought mortars, which were as dangerous as they were awesome. We had to take a break at one point so he could put the out the moss fire that was created by a wayward firework.

Then I remember sitting on the side of the pool in my dry clothes debating just jumping in without changing into my bathing suit. I’d say “I don’t know, should I?” and Tate, who was both sober and in the pool would say “no, you shouldn’t. Just put your bathing suit on.” And I’d say “you’re right” and drop the subject for a full minute. Then I’d ask again.

I apparently didn’t listen to Tate, because I remember jumping in with my dry clothes on. Tate, my sister, my sister-in-law, my niece, my nephew and his friend were playing Marco Polo. Tate was cheating, so it was pretty much everyone against him. He would grab whoever was nearby and force them between him and whoever was ‘it’, sometimes forcing them into the person. So, I jumped in to help defeat him.

Everything was going fine until it was my turn to be Marco. Seeing as how I was already about three huge Jack and Coke’s in by this point and it was night time, I was not the best candidate for the job. I started out doing pretty well. I was holding my own. Then I started to laugh.

I thought it was a problem when I sucked the water down my throat, but then I knew it was a problem when I went under and, still laughing, sucked some water up my nose. Luckily I was on the shallow end and my sister-in-law was near by. She grabbed me and pulled me up out of the water just in the nick of time. I said something to the effect of “guys, I think I’m too drunk to play Marco Polo” and I headed back inside to make the Jack and ginger ale.

Oh, and I have broken memories of bringing a bread bowl full of spinach dip home. My sister-in-law makes a bread bowl with spinach dip for every get together, and I devour it every time. Instead of grabbing a plate to transfer it on, though, I just grabbed the bread. Probably while saying something dumb like “it is its own plate!” The bread was not easy to tear, and it was way too difficult to tear it with my hands, so I was just taking huge bites of it. I was in our bedroom when I tried to take a bite. I didn’t have a very good grip on it, so when I finally got the bite off, the rest of the bread bowl flew away from me like a Frisbee. It hit our mirror and fell to the ground. I was so devastated, but Frank was a happy puppy.

Yet again, a mirror reminds me of my mistakes.
Yet again, a mirror reminds me of my mistakes.

That’s about all I can remember. I woke up yesterday morning at 6:30, which is another thing my body is doing in protest to my drinking – waking me up at ungodly hours. I fell back asleep on the couch around 8 and Tate woke me up at 10 to move back to the bed. I woke back up around 1, then fell back to sleep at 3 or 4. Woke up again to watch the World Cup final (go USA!!) and then back to bed I went around 10. It was a rough day. I didn’t like it one bit.

But I did have a good 4th of July. I hope everyone else did, too!

Advertisements

What Do You Think?

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s