Don't Drink and Derive

GI Joe was wrong when he said, "knowing is half the battle." Knowing is the problem, in fact. I went a wee ways too far last weekend. Consider this entry not about food, but food for thought. I was invited to my friend's country home for a night of curry, poker, and basically a thousand friendly beers. Unfortunately, for me (a little), and for my friends (a lot)--I shat the bed all over the place. Something happened after that 5th beer and a shot of Taiwanese Rice Liquor--more like paint thinner, that sent me on a night-long spin down Pampers Avenue. I am embarrassed still.

In short, I disappeared after my shot, and hid out on the roof for a while, till I had to be rescued, and brought down to safety, shivering over my luke warm curry. Once I had a little food down my empty stomach, we began to hit the paint thinner again, whereupon I began an endless rant of self-pity that lasted throughout the evening, and ended with me butting a live cigarette out in my hand, then announcing my departure--hitting the country road only to return, moping that no one came to my rescue yet again. I think I literally tried to bite the grass in the yard, and I said something about an epiphany of my becoming homeless in the future. Kay--ryste.

I woke in the morning with a mouthful of crow, and a head full of razor blades. Much deserved. With tail tucked into diaper, I managed to at least do some dishes. I guess the point of my little journal here is that the older I get, the more I am noticing the ill effects booze can have on me. Whereby the beast would only emerge once out of every hundred drunken evenings, I am finding myself arguing more and more (usually with my friends), and throughout the evening there is forever the sound of my own voice. Whether in humor, or in debate, neither matters. The fact is, I rarely can sit in the backseat of any drinking night. I must plant my ass right on the windshield and bronx myself and everyone else into oblivion. I could argue with a tree. I drink and derive much from little.

I probably won't stop drinking anytime soon, while I am quite ashamed at times of being what I thought was a Good Time Charly. I apologize to anyone I've offended on my little toots, and I look forward to hearing what you have to say in the future. I will come equipped with duct tape if need be. And I can be decoded with a blanket or something.

Don't get me wrong. This is not a continuation of my self-pity. I'm laughing about it right now, for what else can one do? I leave you with this short post as I head out to party with my friends on this full-moon Friday. Remember, Don't drink and Derive. You might step on your neighbors toes and bite their grass.