To call me drunk would be to downplay my awesomeness. To be just "drunk" would not be a big deal. For most people, this is a good place to start slamming water, and eat some Taco Bell. They need to soak up that booze, don't want to be too hung over tomorrow. This is not an acceptable practice for myself. I'm of the ripe full age of 22. I live by the Mantra "do damage today, pay for it tomorrow." To say I was "drunk" would make it sound like I wasn't able to drive legally anymore. People by 2:00 in the morning I wasn't able to tie shoes let alone start a car.
Oh it was one of those nights. The kind of night where you enjoy 8 shots of patron before you even head out to the bar. The kind of night where you order drinks that have so much alcohol in them, you could use them to disinfect open cuts. The kind of night where you could participate in consensual sexual intercourse with, dare I say it, a fat chick. Luckily for me, my night did not end in a tragedy, despite the reported efforts of a rather randy herd.
It's like the old saying goes, "if you get drunk and nail a fat chick on New Years, does it count?" Much like the ol' chicken and the egg adage, this question has no answer. There are no winners when it comes to sex with fat chicks, just regretful participants and broken bed frames.
It was the kind of night where you see a girl who you know just had a baby, Springer Style (where for the longest time she wasn't sure who the daddy was) and you find yourself thinking, 'maybe'. It's the kind of night where you bum a cigarette of said new mommy, even though you don't smoke. Sue me, sometimes slumps go so long that you might need to start compromising standards and beliefs to bust them.
It's the kind of night where you are in the front row of another excellent Throwback Suburbia show, rockin your ass off. Where you find yourself singing every word to every song you know (and making just loud, obnoxious sounds to the songs you don't) just in case Jimmy forgets the words he was singing. Jimmy, if you're ever reading this-I got your back. I'm like a human karaoke machine.
If you've never had the chance to listen to Throwback Suburbia there is something wrong with the way you do business. Seriously you heartless bastard, stop reading right now and go check out their myspace. I'll wait.
Welcome back. Now that you know what good music is, I'm going to need you to understand that they are equally as electric live. They touch lives. In fact one crazed fan on an episode of PDX Live made the analogy that it was like "God himself wrote the words and then handed them down to Jimmy."
OK, that might've been me making my television debut, but I digress. Thats what the PDX Live people get putting me on TV after a few Jack and Cokes.
New Years Eve, Throwback stomped faces and broke hearts. And I enjoyed every second of it. Even if I was so drunk that every song kind of blended into the other, forming one big ass super-song.
It was the kind of night where you are out getting shit housed in the same place with friends and family. Where you make new "BFF's" but forget their names by the time you wake up. We're talking good ol' times. So good, it doesn't even phase you that your mom is also no longer able to drive.
Actually, I'm going to be honest. I don't mind drinking in the same spot as my mom. At least I know I'm getting home safe. She's responsible enough to consistently line up a designated driver.
Lastly, it's the kind of night where you end up at your moms throwing up in her downstairs bathroom. Where you are coherent enough to know that you are looking at pieces of the frozen pizza you consumed before the tequila. And you are amused enough to call your mom in to admire your waste, and point out the previously digested pepperoni chunks. The kind of night where you don't mind throwing up, or calling your brother at 3:00 am to have him come pick you up (he was not willing to get up).
Yeah, I had that type of night.
Happy New Years Bitches.
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