Well that was interesting. A long weekend and a few opportunities to make a fool of myself. I don't drink much but when I do and the buzz is on, I wonder why I don't drink more often. Then, when sobriety sneaks up on me, I realize it's because I have so little control over myself when I do. It isn't always such a bad thing and most times can be a hoot, but I'm a big fan of keeping a lid on it.
Friday night, I went out because I could, because I'd been asked to and because it was fun. I drank a little, a little more and a little more than that. Five Jack and Cokes later, I was wondering what it'd take to get me tipsy. I wasn't doing anything but sitting there. I had that luxury because the planets were aligned in my favor. People kept rotating in and out to keep me company without any real effort from me. Then about ten minutes after I met Big Round's friend, Body, I started feeling it coming on. One more drink later, I'd committed myself to attending a so-called "piercing party".
While I'd like to say I did something wild and crazy like make acquaintence with Prince Albert, I'm no fan of needles and therefore, I was only planning on being there as a witness. Even that didn't take place. By the end of the night, everyone had sobered up and called it quits so the party was off. That left just a few of us and somehow, my drunk ass was asked to drive three people to safer places.
Keep in mind that I must have seen forty five cops throughout the day and passed through a checkpoint to get downtown. I was nervous driving during the day. It wasn't that way Friday night. I had people in the back of my truck and I was yelling out the windows. Some gas station CD that C-Did-Dog gave me was blasting. I was on fire.
Then I got sexually explicit at the Waffle House, made friends with Drell and enemies with Shelly. But I felt stupid about it despite the fact that I was rather entertaining. That ended in a dark, lonely collaspe over my bed.
I slept until 3pm Saturday. It was good and necessary. I bought and cooked steaks for the family. Went out for coffee that night, and had a drink downtown for kicks -- just because I wanted to sit in a bar reading a book.
The book, Lamb, is easily the best I've ever read, which is saying a lot because I've held onto Breakfast of Champions for a million years defending its honor repeatedly. BOC comes in at number two now. I read all 444 pages of Lamb in three days and will start up again tomorrow. There are so many people I want to give the book to because I love them and think they'd like it.
I only slept until 11am on Sunday. Pissed away the day only leaving for groceries so I could do some more cooking. As dinner was on the stove and my brother was supposedly on his way, the phone rang and mom said it was for me. It was Jeff who was in tears. Poor guy. His back was hurting and despite knowing that he has chronic back pain, I was certain it was a kidney stone. I just wanted him to share in my pain, I guess. Well, I picked him up (literally to get him in the truck) and took him to the Med Stop. Hey, what do you know, doctors can fake it too. They didn't do much by way of dianogsis but he did get a few handfuls of pills.
I kept vigil over my little brother's rotting corpse until Mom decided she didn't want to ride the Groome to Atlanta. So I took her. Like LL Cool J once said (though in drastically different circumstances), I'm that type of guy. So that was the weekend. I did go down to Liz Reeds to see Riddle and C-Did-Dog, but that was relatively brief. While there, I managed to set new heights on the computer thing with trivia. I'm a champ.
Now I'm whiling away the time before I feel like going to sleep. It's coming. Oh and I need to write some poetry because I'm hitting the Poetic Peace tomorrow and I'm thinking it's time to bust out my skillz. What think ye? I know, I know... Please Horne, don't hurt 'em.
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