: Drunk = Hangover = Tricia P.O.'d?
Okay . . . turned 21 on Wednesday. I got an e-mail from blurty.com. Quite nice, quite nice. I love those e-mails that are just programed to send out on a certain date. Gotta say, though, I feel bad for anyone that put their birthday in as Feburary 29th.
Sorry bastards.
Anyways, Smitty took me out with Chad and Holli last night. We went to this dance club called BBs. Interesting little place, somewhere that I wouldn't mind taking Tricia to. Pretty cool.
Played some volleyball, drank this malt called Smirnof (I botched the spelling on that). Very light, not a lot of alchol, easy tasting, and not enough to screw you out of your keys (meaning, you can drink one and still be very much sober).
Moved onto Coors Light. Beer tastes like vomit. I hate beer, and I swear right now that I will never drink it again . . . well, at least for a little while. Disgusting. At that point, Holli and Chad were fighting (SURPRISE!), and therefore, Chad would not dance with Holli. I don't know. It's stupid. I danced a little, but decided not to after about twenty-thirty seconds. At that point, I was still very much sober, probably still able to drive home (though I would be weary).
After finishing off the beer, started to feel a bit of a buzz. Smitty got me a Screwdriver, which is Vodka and Orange Juice. GOOD STUFF. Washed the beer taste out of my mouth, which was EXACTLY what I was looking for. I was getting a bit more of buzz, and told Smitty ONLY ONE more drink. If I were alone, I would have told someone that I needed a ride home.
So I had a -ahem- Salamander Slammer. It was red and a little bit too tangy for me. I figured, hey, my last drink. It can't be THAT bad. I'm making a note to not drink anything else that has the word "Slammer" in it. It, honestly, knocked me on my ass.
I got drunk.
Not really something I wanted to do, but hey . . .
No driving home for me, and I sure as hell knew it. That's why I thanked Holli like, a thousand times for driving. Being drunk was weird for me. I was numb in the limbs, I couldn't stop laughing my ass off, I talked whatever popped in my mind. Apparently I made lots of hand gestures. I'm betting I was pretty damn funny!
Smitty helped me inside the house, left a note for the 'rents. I thanked him, then fell onto the couch. Closed my eyes for a few seconds, trying to just get myself back in order. Got up, grabbed Eric, got his help with my contact removal, and then called Tricia.
BIG MISTAKE.
I wasn't plastered, so there was actual conversation. I told her I was drunk, and right now I'm kicking myself for promising to calling her. Because she is currently overreacting, and is kind of offending me. She's acting like I shouldn't be drinking at all, and when I tell her I want to, she has this tone like "Why do you need to drink?"
I understand completely her past problems with alchol. That's okay. BUT I AM NOT THOSE PEOPLE. I make my own decisions, and I want her to realize that.
I had too much to drink last night. It happens. I'm sorry. I should have been more in control. I know that. Was it my plan to get drunk? No. Do I feel guilty? Yes. Do I feel like I let down my parents? Yes. Do I feel bad for acting like an ass in front of my brother? Yes. Yes, yes, yes, and yes.
And because I don't want to make that headache I had this morning any worse in the near future, I won't be drinking that much. I know my limits, I've learned from my mistakes. I'll be more responsible. I won't be going out every day, or every week, or every month - so what's the big deal? Just give me some damn latitude.
So, yeah, that's about it.
~W~
Okay . . . turned 21 on Wednesday. I got an e-mail from blurty.com. Quite nice, quite nice. I love those e-mails that are just programed to send out on a certain date. Gotta say, though, I feel bad for anyone that put their birthday in as Feburary 29th.
Sorry bastards.
Anyways, Smitty took me out with Chad and Holli last night. We went to this dance club called BBs. Interesting little place, somewhere that I wouldn't mind taking Tricia to. Pretty cool.
Played some volleyball, drank this malt called Smirnof (I botched the spelling on that). Very light, not a lot of alchol, easy tasting, and not enough to screw you out of your keys (meaning, you can drink one and still be very much sober).
Moved onto Coors Light. Beer tastes like vomit. I hate beer, and I swear right now that I will never drink it again . . . well, at least for a little while. Disgusting. At that point, Holli and Chad were fighting (SURPRISE!), and therefore, Chad would not dance with Holli. I don't know. It's stupid. I danced a little, but decided not to after about twenty-thirty seconds. At that point, I was still very much sober, probably still able to drive home (though I would be weary).
After finishing off the beer, started to feel a bit of a buzz. Smitty got me a Screwdriver, which is Vodka and Orange Juice. GOOD STUFF. Washed the beer taste out of my mouth, which was EXACTLY what I was looking for. I was getting a bit more of buzz, and told Smitty ONLY ONE more drink. If I were alone, I would have told someone that I needed a ride home.
So I had a -ahem- Salamander Slammer. It was red and a little bit too tangy for me. I figured, hey, my last drink. It can't be THAT bad. I'm making a note to not drink anything else that has the word "Slammer" in it. It, honestly, knocked me on my ass.
I got drunk.
Not really something I wanted to do, but hey . . .
No driving home for me, and I sure as hell knew it. That's why I thanked Holli like, a thousand times for driving. Being drunk was weird for me. I was numb in the limbs, I couldn't stop laughing my ass off, I talked whatever popped in my mind. Apparently I made lots of hand gestures. I'm betting I was pretty damn funny!
Smitty helped me inside the house, left a note for the 'rents. I thanked him, then fell onto the couch. Closed my eyes for a few seconds, trying to just get myself back in order. Got up, grabbed Eric, got his help with my contact removal, and then called Tricia.
BIG MISTAKE.
I wasn't plastered, so there was actual conversation. I told her I was drunk, and right now I'm kicking myself for promising to calling her. Because she is currently overreacting, and is kind of offending me. She's acting like I shouldn't be drinking at all, and when I tell her I want to, she has this tone like "Why do you need to drink?"
I understand completely her past problems with alchol. That's okay. BUT I AM NOT THOSE PEOPLE. I make my own decisions, and I want her to realize that.
I had too much to drink last night. It happens. I'm sorry. I should have been more in control. I know that. Was it my plan to get drunk? No. Do I feel guilty? Yes. Do I feel like I let down my parents? Yes. Do I feel bad for acting like an ass in front of my brother? Yes. Yes, yes, yes, and yes.
And because I don't want to make that headache I had this morning any worse in the near future, I won't be drinking that much. I know my limits, I've learned from my mistakes. I'll be more responsible. I won't be going out every day, or every week, or every month - so what's the big deal? Just give me some damn latitude.
So, yeah, that's about it.
~W~