Oh Brother, we hardly knew ye.
The day after a good bender is always a day of introspection, at least for me it is. I don't know if it's a combination of the chemicals getting purged from the system, the dehydration, or the physical comedown from all the drunk emotions that go on overload after a few (many) pints and shooters, but I'm always left with a strange sense of hollowness. Not in an "I'm lonely" kind of way, but in more of an "I don't completely feel all there" kind of way. Thick, that's a good word for it. Last night was a heavy bender, and there were casualties, the most predominant being Pervert Shoe. He was a good shoe, and led a full life, but it is time for him to be put out to greener pastures.
We started last nights festivities around 9:30 or so over at K's house. The reason for last nights beer fest, if we needed to have one, was to blow off steam from the last month at work. It's been, what's the right word for this, hairy. If you ask newtie, he'll tell you it's been hell, but I'm a bit more of an optimist than him. It was pretty much just a start drinking and get to the finish line kind of night, but rather than give a play by play, I'll just give the highlight. Drunk stories, although amusing, can be pretty harsh in the light of day for certain people, so I think I'm only going to tell one tale, and that may be edited for content and formatted to fit your screen.
When leaving (getting kicked out) a bar at closing time, and you are partying downtown, it can be a real bitch trying to get a cab. Last night was no exception. There were only a couple of party goers left by the time we cut out, so we said our goodbye's and closed out the night. I took a very tanked CG and started the epic journey to get her home. I had full intentions of grabbing a cab along the way, but like most things when you are drunk, plans didn't quite work out the way you had in mind. I should point out that I did try to call a cab on my cell, but there was about a 30 minute wait to get one. It made sense to me to just walk since it would take the same amount of time. Could have been the Guinness speaking because it doesn't seem to make much sense in the light of day. Hailing a cab whilst walking is never like you see in the shows that are set in NYC. You can't just stick out your hand and get one to stop, and trust me, it wasn't for lack of trying. CG was doing everything, including running out in front of them, to try to get a lift. That was when some form of restraint had to be put in place so we didn't up spending the night in a hospital getting her treated for overdose of automobile. With a some guiding, carrying, and gentle nudging we continued the trek to get her to her house. I wasn't far behind her in the alcohol content, but I could walk a little straighter, so I became the guide. After galloping through the mud, getting dragged by a drunk CG across the street multiple times for a reason that was only apparent to her, not finding any available cabs, convincing her that it wasn't a good idea to pee on the side of the road (or on pervert shoe for that matter), and about 40 minutes of stumbling we got CG into her house. The casualty wasn't really apparent yet, and I didn't have the heart to look down at wet and squishing thing that was on my foot. She managed to get herself upstairs and down for the night, so I called for a cab for the second time to get myself home. I had done my good deed, and was ready for some down time. I got a cab surprisingly quickly, and went home. I vaguely remember talking to the cabby about traveling but I was only picking up about a third of the conversation. One third was lost to Guinness, the other third to his heavy Russian accent. My foot was uncomfortable now that I had some heat coming into my body, but wasn't to the point where I was ready to look down yet. I don't even think I was that capable of that thought in my current state. I got into my house, took off the wet squishing thing without looking at it, and went upstairs to chill out before going to bed. There was some TV, and then time for sleep. I didn't truly appreciate the casualty until I got up. I noticed my pants, which I threw into my hamper the night previous, were covered in mud from mid-shin down. This was not looking good. I wandered downstairs and drank about five glasses of water before looking at Pervert Shoe.
My poor shoe was dead. Maybe it's fate or karma or whatever since I did the entry about the clothing fairies, but now it's time to get new shoes. CG might get dragged along for that one. She murdered pervert shoe, so it's only fair that she come along for the fun. To be fair, it wasn't really murder, more a death by misadventure.
Originally, I was going to end this entry with some serious writing about dealing and coping with loss, but it doesn't seem right to end with something like that after such a silly tale as the loss of a pair of shoes. It's just not on the same playing field. For anyone who is reading this, I will give one piece of wisdom I have learned. Take it for what it's worth to you. It is normal to feel alone occasionally. It's a natural feeling that everyone goes through. Even though it doesn't feel good, we all have to deal with it in whatever way works best for each of us. Just because we can feel alone, that doesn't mean that you should a) settle for something that is probably not right, b) interpret something for more than what it is, or c) do something rash. Like all feelings, it does pass with time. The old chestnut about time healing all wounds is true. Some things just take longer than others. Even though I am getting better every day, I still go through bouts of depression about the summer of unpleasantness. The thing that I keep in mind is tomorrow things will look different, and you know what, they always do.
"The worst loneliness is not to be comfortable with yourself."
Mark Twain
>>>>>>>
Completely off topic, I just watched "The 40 Year Old Virgin". That is some funny ass shit.
The day after a good bender is always a day of introspection, at least for me it is. I don't know if it's a combination of the chemicals getting purged from the system, the dehydration, or the physical comedown from all the drunk emotions that go on overload after a few (many) pints and shooters, but I'm always left with a strange sense of hollowness. Not in an "I'm lonely" kind of way, but in more of an "I don't completely feel all there" kind of way. Thick, that's a good word for it. Last night was a heavy bender, and there were casualties, the most predominant being Pervert Shoe. He was a good shoe, and led a full life, but it is time for him to be put out to greener pastures.We started last nights festivities around 9:30 or so over at K's house. The reason for last nights beer fest, if we needed to have one, was to blow off steam from the last month at work. It's been, what's the right word for this, hairy. If you ask newtie, he'll tell you it's been hell, but I'm a bit more of an optimist than him. It was pretty much just a start drinking and get to the finish line kind of night, but rather than give a play by play, I'll just give the highlight. Drunk stories, although amusing, can be pretty harsh in the light of day for certain people, so I think I'm only going to tell one tale, and that may be edited for content and formatted to fit your screen.
When leaving (getting kicked out) a bar at closing time, and you are partying downtown, it can be a real bitch trying to get a cab. Last night was no exception. There were only a couple of party goers left by the time we cut out, so we said our goodbye's and closed out the night. I took a very tanked CG and started the epic journey to get her home. I had full intentions of grabbing a cab along the way, but like most things when you are drunk, plans didn't quite work out the way you had in mind. I should point out that I did try to call a cab on my cell, but there was about a 30 minute wait to get one. It made sense to me to just walk since it would take the same amount of time. Could have been the Guinness speaking because it doesn't seem to make much sense in the light of day. Hailing a cab whilst walking is never like you see in the shows that are set in NYC. You can't just stick out your hand and get one to stop, and trust me, it wasn't for lack of trying. CG was doing everything, including running out in front of them, to try to get a lift. That was when some form of restraint had to be put in place so we didn't up spending the night in a hospital getting her treated for overdose of automobile. With a some guiding, carrying, and gentle nudging we continued the trek to get her to her house. I wasn't far behind her in the alcohol content, but I could walk a little straighter, so I became the guide. After galloping through the mud, getting dragged by a drunk CG across the street multiple times for a reason that was only apparent to her, not finding any available cabs, convincing her that it wasn't a good idea to pee on the side of the road (or on pervert shoe for that matter), and about 40 minutes of stumbling we got CG into her house. The casualty wasn't really apparent yet, and I didn't have the heart to look down at wet and squishing thing that was on my foot. She managed to get herself upstairs and down for the night, so I called for a cab for the second time to get myself home. I had done my good deed, and was ready for some down time. I got a cab surprisingly quickly, and went home. I vaguely remember talking to the cabby about traveling but I was only picking up about a third of the conversation. One third was lost to Guinness, the other third to his heavy Russian accent. My foot was uncomfortable now that I had some heat coming into my body, but wasn't to the point where I was ready to look down yet. I don't even think I was that capable of that thought in my current state. I got into my house, took off the wet squishing thing without looking at it, and went upstairs to chill out before going to bed. There was some TV, and then time for sleep. I didn't truly appreciate the casualty until I got up. I noticed my pants, which I threw into my hamper the night previous, were covered in mud from mid-shin down. This was not looking good. I wandered downstairs and drank about five glasses of water before looking at Pervert Shoe.
My poor shoe was dead. Maybe it's fate or karma or whatever since I did the entry about the clothing fairies, but now it's time to get new shoes. CG might get dragged along for that one. She murdered pervert shoe, so it's only fair that she come along for the fun. To be fair, it wasn't really murder, more a death by misadventure.Originally, I was going to end this entry with some serious writing about dealing and coping with loss, but it doesn't seem right to end with something like that after such a silly tale as the loss of a pair of shoes. It's just not on the same playing field. For anyone who is reading this, I will give one piece of wisdom I have learned. Take it for what it's worth to you. It is normal to feel alone occasionally. It's a natural feeling that everyone goes through. Even though it doesn't feel good, we all have to deal with it in whatever way works best for each of us. Just because we can feel alone, that doesn't mean that you should a) settle for something that is probably not right, b) interpret something for more than what it is, or c) do something rash. Like all feelings, it does pass with time. The old chestnut about time healing all wounds is true. Some things just take longer than others. Even though I am getting better every day, I still go through bouts of depression about the summer of unpleasantness. The thing that I keep in mind is tomorrow things will look different, and you know what, they always do.
"The worst loneliness is not to be comfortable with yourself."
Mark Twain
>>>>>>>
Completely off topic, I just watched "The 40 Year Old Virgin". That is some funny ass shit.
posted by Reverend Moloquin at 2:13 AM
1 Comments:
Like Bill Clinton, "I feel your pain". I had a pair of boots once - they are actually the only pair of boots I've ever owned. These weren't winter boots - those don't count. They weren't cowboy boots either - they were boots, I don't know what kind. Forget about it - that's not important, I'm just saying that I had a pair of boots and eventually they fell apart after years of getting them resouled, etc... and I still think about them boots.
Why can't I quit you?????
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