Posts Tagged 'drinking'

Guys’ Night

There is one quarter of a pound of 100% prime black angus fighting its way out of my stomach.

Guys’ Night!

Jungle Cat is in B-town, which means a get-together is in order. Guys’ Night! I’m talking Jungle Cat, who is on a professional guy business trip, and Hot Lunch, who recently got delivered two simultaneous issues of Men’s Health… these guys are ALL GUY. So I am full-on prepared to guy it up. I suggest the Ram, where we can drink brewskis and watch sports. Guys’ Night! I instigate “Chicks, man” conversations such as “Chicks, man, they’re so unpredictable with their emotions.” Guys’ Night! And, “Chicks, man, why don’t they treat their cars better… would you leave old Burger King wrappers in your living room?” GUYS’  NIGHT! And, “Chicks, man. They pretend to be happy wives and mothers for 16 years and then suddenly start acting like teenagers and sleeping with random losers and playing the victim when you’re not totally ok with it.”

Guys’? Night?

Man, serious undertones and elephants in the room can really bring down Guys’ Night. Take two guys who were recently screwed over in the exact same way by their now ex-wives and add to it that one of them happens to be the guy who months ago tore my heart out and put it back in and tore it out again and put it back and– To battle the mindgame of talking about broken hearts with mine sitting right there next to me, I did what any guy would do on Guys’ Night. I stepped up my drinking.

Guys’ Night!

Guys’ Night ends at 9pm when Hot Lunch has to go relieve the babysitter and Jungle Cat has an early morning conference to prepare for and I’m tottering back to the car between them, confusing my words and talking loudly about personal things. Our waiter says more than once pointedly, “Have a safe night.” At the time I was confused as to why he was warning us about drunk driving when I was clearly the only one inebriated. Now, looking back on it I feel scandalized that maybe he was referring to the fact that I was the only one inebriated. Just drunk little old me in my silk dress and two guy friends and no panties. (Nothing ruins Guys’ Night like VPL.)

Guys’… Night?

Don’t worry, waiter, I choose my friends carefully. Even the dipshits like Hot Lunch are good guys. We dropped Jungle Cat off at his hotel and me off at my apartment, where I very calmly told Hot Lunch, “Not having you around has left a huge gaping hole in my life… …Welp, good night,” and then refused to let him walk me to my door. He still tried to walk me to my door (some nonsense about it being so DARK out) and so we ended up doing this awkward thing with me doing a fast drunk walk to try to leave him behind and him following along like a really sheepish predator.

Guys’ Night.

Sometimes, you just gotta be a guy and do those guy things, like eating meat and talking about titties and watching ball-related activities in HD and passing out from booze and sobbing at about 10:15pm, then waking up at 2 am too disoriented to know anything except that a large amount of alcohol-and-stress-soaked free-range beef is making up its mind which is the fastest route out of your body. You know, guy stuff.

Two rounds of Alka-Seltzer and a huge deuce is the Guys’ Night cure, according to Men’s Health. Then the hot, angry beer and burger bomb in your stomach might finally ease down enough from code red for you to fall back to sleep for a couple hours before you have to get up and go back to your job.

GUYS’ NIGHT!

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mommy, why is the shark lying down?

today, i fell on my money-maker in front of 300 elementary students while wearing a shark costume.

we pretty much had them won over, too. they were laughing WITH us, not even AT us, at least as far as you can tell such a thing from inside a big posterboard shark head that keeps you from seeing your feet. Pants and I were waving and making our exit and that’s when i tripped on one of my flippers and gravity handled the rest.

it got really quiet. i tried to make a joke of it and flail my arms like “man overboard!” but since my arms were protruding from the shark’s posterboard mouth, it must have looked more like a struggle for survival, like a cross between National Geographic, Peter Benchley, and Elmo’s World.

because i was on work time and teaching values to children and driving my own vehicle, i will not even mention that i’m not sure i wasn’t still a little drunk from last night.

dragons, bears, clowns, zombies and the eye of sauron

Hyperbole and a Half

Hyperbole and a Half

okay, so first, The Original proposed to the Pants today. THE PANTS IS GETTING MARRIED!!! sorry, Pants, if that’s shocking to read in print! but it is true and also awesome.

second, The Original is the nickname we came up for the Pants’ boyfriend (now fiancé) while sitting in the Egg Factory on Memorial Day. by the way, “while sitting in the Egg Factory on Memorial Day” is now my favorite phrase. sorry, Original, if that’s shocking to read, but it is true and also awesome. also, sorry The Original trumped the Professor as a nickname. you know you are the Professor deep down, though. the beard proves it. it’s your professorialness coming out of your pores.

third, and almost as exciting, the Original introduced me to a new (for me) blog THAT I HAVE TOTALLY FALLEN IN LOVE WITH!!!! it’s by a GIRL who is also a GENIUS OF HUMOR. and this blog is ALSO ILLUSTRATED!! with hilarious, genius drawings! and the blogger is also FROM IDAHO! i am reading it and i am in heaven.

i am also beyond tipsy from all the celebrating with 8.5% delicious beers.

wait. “some horrific wonderland of confusion” is actually my favorite phrase. READ THE BLOG.

i know. i should always blog drunk.

Magritte, table for two

this morning, i am making the Long Walk from Distant Inconvenient Parking to work – the Walk upon which no fewer than 2 (dos) employees have already been struck by cars in the last year. i begin the perilous Street Crossing and realize a car is coming and about to make the turn onto the Street i am Crossing. i step back onto the sidewalk.

but the car is slowing to a halt. spy-movie style, the window rolls down. who else do i find myself face to face with but Hot Lunch, with Identical Twin at the wheel.

this is a surprise a) because it is random to run into anyone you know like that 2) because i haven’t seen Hot Lunch since our breakup almost a month ago (except for a brief awkward chat at the library last week) and MOST IMPORTANTLY iii) because to the best of my knowledge the two of them have been drunk in Twin Falls for the last three days.

after receiving a text at 1 am last night that read: “Goofdnigtht ud.I’mbhAngikb g with my durmnk ass cousins . oodnight byd.;)” the last thing i expected to find them doing at 10 am this morning was getting all up in my Long Walk while driving a green hybrid.

“uh. how are you feeling?” i ask. “hung over?”

Hot Lunch, unshaven and wearing the glasses he hates, squints at me from where he’s kind of crumpled into the crook made by the passenger’s seat and the door. “He’s hung over,” he says. “I’m still drunk.”

I get a muddled description of their uncle’s wake and understand very little beyond Hot Lunch almost making out with his old high school buddy, who i know has little going for him these days beyond the skullet and the WoW obsession.

then Hot Lunch starts rummaging in some paper bags at his feet, exclaiming, “DO YOU WANT CANDY?? I HAVE CANDY!!”  at last he produces a truffle. handing it out the window, he places it in my palm as delicately as if it were an egg. he says simply:

“You should eat that. It has peanut butter in it.”

thank you, fate. when it comes to running into exes, i’ll take surreal over awkward any day.

maybe it was that only depressed people get drunk on a Thursday

woke up to this journal entry from last night. at least i knew it was Apil.