Women's Wit » drinking

Why You Shouldn’t Drink Too Much

admin — Mon, 19 Oct 2009 13:26:19 +0000

You’ll wake up in the morning and when you see your car in the garage, you’ll wonder how it got there because you don’t remember driving home.

You’ll wake up in the morning and be impressed you remembered to lock your door, open it, and find your keys in the lock on the other side.

You’ll play truth or dare in college and end up kissing one guy, humping another and flashing all of them your tits. The first night they meet you. [they do end up becoming your best friends in college – wonder why?]

You’ll pose naked on your boyfriend’s motorcycle at a biker rally.

You’ll wake up passed out in the lawn. Not a big deal, except it won’t be your lawn.

You’ll photocopy your boobs. Said photocopies will become a guy’s wallpaper in his bedroom. You will refuse to ever meet his mother.

Your mother will wake you up four hours after you’ve passed out and force you to run errands with her all day. Your little sister will wonder why you’ve slipped into a coma later on that day as you’re curled up in the fetal position on the couch on a Saturday night.

You’ll text your girlfriend and tell her you’ve had it, you’re leaving your boyfriend. Your boyfriend will then respond because you texted him and not said girlfriend.

You will leave your boyfriend passed out in the barn at the Senior party and go to sleep in the warm comfy house – and then have to deal with him being pissed off the next day when you drive him home. Mostly he’ll be pissed because he had to hear Payton and his girlfriend having sex in the barn.

You will make plans for the next night with everyone present at Christmas dinner. You will not remember this. The next day, as you are looking forward to just going home and going to bed because you’re so hung over, your mother will call to remind you of said plans and that there is no way you are getting out of it. Your husband will laugh and tell you you’re on your own and you will endure a hangover during another dinner and a movie. You will never drink eggnog again.

You will wake up and go to the kitchen for a bottle of water. You will look around and notice your shoes in the kitchen. You will walk back to your bedroom and see your bra and tank top in the hall. You will see your capri’s in the living room. You will crawl back in bed and when your boyfriend laying there next to you rolls over and says “last night was incredible” you’ll smile and realize you don’t remember a damn thing about last night.

You’ll scale hotel walls.

You’ll go for a walk around campus, pee on top of McGaw Chapel and steal a Wooster brick from the sidewalk.

You’ll go to a Jonas Brothers concert.

You won’t remember the Prince concert. Actually, the ‘dro you smoked probably contributed to that more than the insane amount of alcohol.

You’ll strip in the parking lot at your friend’s wedding because you can’t stand being in that god-damned bridesmaid dress one second longer.

You’ll drive to a crack house in Akron to listen to your friend’s band.

You’ll make arrangements to meet a booty call at your house and then drive to your best friend’s house and pass out on her couch.

Why I Don’t Drink Cherry Bombs (anymore)

admin — Sun, 20 Sep 2009 18:00:50 +0000

A few years ago, cherry bombs (3 Olive Cherry vodka, red bull and a splash of grenadine) were the new craze in my town. I got to where that was all I would drink – cherry bombs on ice. It was my signature cocktail. My ex-boyfriend and I shared a love (although his is more of an obsession) for David Allan Coe. For those of you who are unfamiliar with DAC, he is a phenomenal and under-appreciated songwriter and unconventional to say the least. His list of hits includes “Would You Lay with Me” (hit by Tanya Tucker), “Take This Job and Shove It” (hit by Johnny Paycheck) and “You Don’t Even Call Me By My Name” (hit for DAC himself). The point of this is that during the course of our 2 ½ year relationship, we probably saw him six times in concert.

To see DAC was to get absolutely wasted and enjoy the show. We had a normal routine – drink on the way to the venue, me dressed as scantily as I could while showcasing my gigantic boobs. Eric would park me as close (standing room) to the stage as he could and leave me to get beers. Picture gigantic boobs in a sea of men. It didn’t take long for me to make my way up to the stage, get beer from guys and the occasional joint. Then, just as the show would start, much to the guys’ dismay, Eric would sidle up and enjoy the front row position I had wrangled for us and ply me with more alcohol.

After one of these concerts, during which I drank I don’t know how much beer, we got back to town (we always convinced some poor schmuck to go to the concerts with us and drive – thank god for recovering alcoholics!). Here’s what I remember…

11:00 pm get back to town and head to the first bar. Flirt with my bartender Ollie as always, have a couple cherry bombs.

12:00 pm go down the road to our other favorite haunt. At this point, I realize I am wasted and I am pretty impressed that I am still able to make conversation. I am also starving (side effect of me getting drunk) and insist on getting a pepperoni roll microwaved for me. The bartender, realizing I am wasted and fears my temper should I not get fed, gets one ready for me. These things are huge and I require a knife. Bartender refuses to give me a knife. To this day, Eric will never be able to tell you how I did it, but I managed to go up to him and get his switchblade. I proceed to cut my pepperoni roll into delicate slices of loveliness. Eric sees that I have his knife and yells at me across the bar to put it down. I wave it in the air.

9 am the next day. I wake up, naked, go to the bathroom and come back to bed. As I close my eyes, I realize I have no recollection of ever going to bed. I turn to Eric and ask him how I got there…. Yea…..

apparently after waving his knife at him, he came and took it back. I kept ordering cherry bombs and no one saw fit to deny me. WE WENT TO THREE OTHER BARS. Let me reiterate – I have blacked out, I have no memory of this, only the phone calls and stories everyone told me to confirm it. I insisted we keep barhopping, and I insisted I was fine and kept drinking cherry bombs. I went to see all of my favorite bartenders and tell them how much I loved them. I apparently made phone calls….(another reason why you should just take away my phone when I’m drinking)….I left a voicemail for my friend Tommy – when he saw me a few days later, he said he saved it because he just couldn’t believe what I was saying. He asked me if I wanted to listen to it – I looked at him and said “Tommy, I really don’t think I do…” He said “honey, you REALLY don’t… we’ll just keep it between us.” ugh.

I ask Eric how I got to bed (since I don’t remember even coming home). Well, turns out he did finally see that I needed to get home. So Mindy and Kevin, God love them, drove us home and apparently helped me inside. Now understand, even under normal circumstances, I tend to just strip and walk around the house – I’m not bashful. Well apparently, I didn’t really care that Mindy and Kevin were standing there in the living room…and as soon as I walked in the door, I started stripping my way to the bathroom to pee and then on into the bedroom. Yup, stark ass naked in front of two of our friends.

I never drank another cherry bomb again.

What you should NOT do as a career woman.

admin — Wed, 26 Aug 2009 16:57:29 +0000

You should not go to the annual April 15^th party (think public accounting) and proceed to start drinking so heavily that someone has to be sent to the bar to retrieve you because your dinner has arrived. You should not then proceed to have three bites of your steak, announce that you’re done and go back to the bar, bum a cigarette and proceed to make friends with all the men milling about. You should not consume so much alcohol that you are talking about sex “quietly” with one of your managers and one of the partners is hanging on your every word, the women from your office are appalled and your co-workers cannot believe the shit that is pouring out of your mouth. When one of the partners says it’s time to go and the other announces “Amanda – keep drinking! If you keep talking, I’ll keep buying, because I want to hear what’s going to come out of your mouth next!” you should probably go home. When your direct manager says “I have got to walk away from you because I will never be able to work with you if I hear more” you should probably stop drinking. When you finally make it back to work two days later, you should not laugh when you hear that one of the managers spent the night in his car in his garage because his wife wouldn’t let him in the house, he was so drunk. You should not be surprised when one of your co-workers cannot look you in the eye because you were talking about sexual positions he’s only witnessed in porn and he didn’t think “normal” girls really did that. You will however forever laugh when years following that debacle, they keep it to dinner and then please leave and get drunk elsewhere.

You should not go to work still drunk from the night before. Besides wanting to eat everything in site, encountering an invariable shortage of water and coffee to keep you going, ten trips to the bathroom to shit your brains out and the inability to keep your balance in the stall and having to pray the stall walls can maintain your weight as you fall against them, you will hate yourself around 1:00 in the afternoon when the hangover sets in, you’re forced to go to two meetings and then start swearing to God you will never drink again if he will just make it 5:00 already.