Tuesday, August 26, 2008

5 Reasons Why I Need To Stop Drinking...



So I got plastered out of my common sense this past weekend.

Me, the Bedford Boys, Team Guerilla and a few other homies hit up this rooftop party in Brooklyn Saturday. The joint got shut down before 1 a.m., but by then, I was way past the breathelizer stage.

As much fun as we've had drinking this past year, sometimes I can't help but think I need to just hang the bottle. Why not? I'm sure I can come up with one or five valid reasons.

Money: I'm not sure I've said this before, but I drink with a purpose: to get tipsy. I don't drink during the day and never drink while eating. With that said, it's hardly ever open bar when we go out on weekends and the wallets thin out quickly. Thankfully, I'm sort of a lightweight. Still, it takes me abuot three drinks to get tipsy and depending on the night, between six to eight to get wasted. Depending on the spot, drinks usually cost anywhere between $6 to $12 dollars, so you do the math.

Ugly Girls: My vision is impaired when drinking. Add deceptive lighting and I can't tell Halle Berry from Eartha Kitt. Sometimes I know they're busted, but flirt with them just for the hell of it. That's just wrong.

Nonsense: Knowing how twisted I was on Saturday, the next morning I decided to check my phone to see if I sent any crazy text messages. I sure did. Peep this ridiculous exhange between me and one of my boys.

Me: Where u at? What's the word?

Friend: At the crib with this shorty I met at the party.

Me: Oh word? What's the next move?

SMH!!! I should have replied, "Oh cool. Do your thing," but obviously didn't. What a drunk blonde moment.

Throwing Up: Up until November 2007, I had never thrown up from drinking. I was so proud of that statistic. I had my share of close calls, blacked out and forgot portions of many nights, but always held my liquor. But then we went out for the homie Jesus' sister-in-law's birthday, and I let it all out. I have since thrown up two more times. Needless to say my flawless record is now tarnished.

Recklessness: Some folks brag about being good drunk drivers, but I clearly couldn't jump behind the wheel while intoxicated. As previously mentioned, my vision is impaired and so is my judgement and my senses. I've seen many a dude get they ass karate kid kicked while drunk. Just last week, I saw this dude, completely incapacitated, leaking heavily right outside of this pizzaria. Apparently some dudes ran in the spot as he was eating and just kicked his tail one time. It doesn't take much. A step on the shoe here, a spill on the shirt there. I value my 31 teeth.

What about you guys? What are some of the dumbest things you have done while inibriated?
FYI! Though this weekend's Rooftop Party was insane, it is null in void. Word is the folks who threw the party didn't even reside at the location and are now the focus of a police investigation for tresspassing or something. Unless someone tries to contend by September's end, the Bedford Boys have officially thrown the illest party of the summer.

4 comments:

Paul Cantor said...

Sadly (or not that sadly), I don't have too many interesting drunk stories, because I rarely get that drunk. At 26, I feel like I should know my limits, which I do. So in the rare event that I even drink anything nowadays, I know when to call it quits.

That said, I do remember back when I was in college, it was probably the summer between my junior and senior year, a producer friend of mine from Chicago referred some aspiring manager to me. She was visiting New York and we'd spoken on the phone a few times. At the time, I was heavy into being a producer, and well basically, the same day she was here, I'd gotten some incredible news about doing an in-house production deal with one of the powerhouse new york labels at the time (this was 2003, use your imagination). So I figured, let me take this chick, celebrate the news, and hey, maybe this'll end up being a lucky night.

I went and met her at her hotel room. She had a friend with her, some random dude the friend met in the street was chillin with them also. I took them to club New York, which is or was somewhere in that times square area. Carl Blaze (RIP) was DJing, and he was shouting me out heavy in there, congratulating me on this supposed deal I was getting. We were drinking like crazy, but I was still all good in the hood, totally holding my liquor. The chick knew I was kinda twisted, and she was down with me coming back to the hotel room and getting it popping...

But, and you knew a but was coming, this fucking guy that was rolling with us (the random street guy), he gave me a shot of Jack Daniels at like 3:15, and that mixture of the dark liquor with lights I'd been drinking all night, that fucking shit just fucking fucked me all the fuck up. I hit the bathroom and actually threw up, which was only the 2nd time in my life i'd done that (and I think it was actually the last time as well. I was 21 then).

Wait, there's more....

So now here's me in the club for another 45 mins, totally twisted. I can barely make it out the fucking spot at 4am, but somehow I flag these chicks down and tell them to meet me outside. I get outside, I see one of them, and I tell her that I'm just gonna chill on the side by this little stoop until the other one comes out. I sit down, put my head in my hands, and next thing Im having trouble picking my head up. Maybe an hour passes, now it's 5am, and the store that I'm sitting in front of is opening up. The owner kicks me off the stoop, but I can barely walk.

So I sit on the curb, with my legs out in the street. Then I hear thunder, and I'm like, shit it's about to rain. It starts pouring, like a serious storm. The way the street is sloped, the water starts running down hill, and I'm at the bottom of it. So the water is literally running over me like a river. At that point, I made a distress call to my brother, woke up him and told him to come get me. Mind you, he's in bed in Staten Island. He asks me where I am, I say I'm somewhere in the 40s, and that he should just drive up and down the blocks until he finds me. An hour later, he does. I get in the car and he drives me home.

Still drunk, weary, and hung over, I hop on an express bus into the city the next afternoon to go pick up my car, which I left parked on West 70-something street. Luckily, it wasn't towed.

And that's my drunk story for ya.

MeLa said...

Drunk texting is an adventure all it's own, and if I ever wanted to stop drinking, the Drunk Text would pull me back in. Some of my favorite drunken texts have been the following:


(to a male, platonic friend): why haven't we boned yet??? what up wit this AM booty call?

(to a guy i was dating): I been meaning to dump you for weeks now.

(to a friend's DATE, meaning to send to that friend): He aint shit, y u messin wit him? The magic stick did u in huh??


.. the list goes on.

:)

MeLa said...

.... but here's a question-


what happened to your 32nd tooth???

Naked With Socks On said...

"Up until November 2007, I had never thrown up from drinking. I was so proud of that statistic."

You really think you're the Black Seinfeld dont you??

And I have a tone of drunk stories including this one and an alter ego named "Taco Meat" when I get really bent that I have since retired (mostly).

As for money, you know if you around me again with a gallon of Bacardi Gold in a plastic bag, you're covered