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I realize at 28 I'm not as smart or together as I thought I was. This is a sobering realization.
I think.
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The Jackass Chronicles
My mouth still tates like Hamm's
As my mouth opened to say, �Why not? I might as well stay up all night at this point?� something came over me. I looked at the Stray Cats-esque guy with the great skin and bad pompadour sitting next to the sweating drummer and realized I needed to get out of there. It was a school night. It was already 1am. The best-case scenario flashed through my mind and it involved getting wonderfully stoned and making out with the bass player and having 5 new best rock n roll friends singing my praises. In reality, it would have been drunken, stoned making out, only to probably be followed up with vomiting because kissing with my eyes closed and drunk makes me sick (not to mention smoking while drunk), an awkward, �No I don�t want to go back to so-and-so�s apartment in Wicker Park� and a 4am cab ride home alone, depressed and worried about the fact that I have a meeting with my 3 bosses at 9am that I forgot about until JUSTTHATMOMENT.I realized that if I came in glassy-eyed, ponytailed and sweating booze one more time this summer, they might start to figure out what a mess I am. Or worse yet, if I called in sick. I�m already negative in my sick time. I�ve used and abused the calling in hung-over and I just can�t anymore. The worst is when you can actually smell yourself in your cubicle. When you smell that sickly sweet glaze of beer sweats and have those shiverous waves of nausea. I usually have to call Tina over and make her come over to tell me if she can smell it too. She always says yes and wrinkles her nose, but I think she�s just acting. She bugs me sometimes.
But tonight, I am carefully monitoring my beer and cigarette intake. I was willing myself to not be hung-over at midnight. I am not an alcoholic. I can say no. I can have a couple of beers and get home at a reasonable time and show up to work on time. I can do this. I am drunk. But not absurdedly so. If I eat and get into bed by 2 I will be okay.
So I turn on my heel and just walk out the door. I leave Emily there, stumbling in her kitten heels and I walk out the door. I see Paul sitting on the curb and I walk out the door. He is hammered as well and I wonder why I am not as gone as those two. He�s got about a foot and 80 pounds on me. Burritos are had. Luckily, I got an awkward cab ride home with him at 2am so the night was a m�lange of best and worst case scenarios. I really didn�t want him to shove his tongue down my throat like that.
The strangest part of this whole week, though, has to be the fact that I have been complimented on my work, given the corp tickets to the Cubs game and in general, impressing the right people. I have no idea how this is happening and I truly mean that. Not like that fucker who always said, �Oh I KNOW I failed that test. I bombed it.� SHUT THE FUCK UP, FUCKER.