Wine drunk: the classiest of the drunks.

I dunno what it is about wine. A lot of my friends love it. And I mean, good wine, where they can say 2005 was a great year and red wine has tannins and (unpronounceable noise) is a GREAT white (haha! wine joke!). I don't know the appeal. I can tolerate some whites and berry wines, but really, the only wine I enjoy is the cheap shitty wines or white Zin. Otherwise, please sir may I have another screwdriver?

However, I have to admit, when I can keep wine down it is a pleasant buzz. All warm and upper-classy. I had a lot remaining of this one bottle of (unpronounceable noise) and was wondering what to do with it when a friend called me up with an invite to see a late-night Tron. It was Saturday night. Of COURSE I would immediately go on Google and look up Tron drinking games.

The remaining wine filled up my water bottle almost perfectly. I think that's what they're calling 'Fate' nowadays.

I wish I could say it was my first time sneaking wine into a movie theater so that I could play a drinking game to it, but it's not. I corrupted my Boyface with a couple of full water bottles to a showing of Burlesque (drink whenever you see high heels, or match drinks with the actors, and when they mention Patron by name), plus a few other indiscretions. It's just what I do when I've heard the movie is kinda shit. There are always ways to have fun.

Rules for Tron drinking game:
-Drink whenever you see someone's disc, or when someone throws a disc.
-Drink when you hears the words 'Tron,' 'user,' 'program,' 'the Grid,' or 'the maker.'
-Drink when a program is destroyed.

My wine was gone halfway into the movie and I got pleasantly buzzed, all warm and happy. Afterward, I didn't want to go inside, knowing my warm was too warm at the moment. And I'm feeling classy.

WINE classy.

I know drinking wine out of a water bottle shouldn't give you immediate rights to feel high-and-mighty, but it does, and I just have to accept those responsibilities. I chilled outside in the parking lot a bit, texting friends and smoking a clove as I waited for my flush to die down.

I know I've mentioned before the huge amounts of judgy people that reside in my complex. I look up at one point and notice a woman there, judging me. She obviously hasn't gotten the memo that I'm tottering around smoking cloves while drunk on good wine, thus making me better than her. I stare back, raising an eyebrow elegantly as I regard her with the same judgy stare she's leveling at me.

In that moment, I know what to do. I can feel my response coming, and I shift my hips just a little.

Pbbfffft.

It's a small one, but audible. She blinks, and I can see the realization cross her mind that even farting, I am way classier than she. She seems to become aware of her own disheveled state and the fact that she's wearing pajamas. It's almost sad, watching the self-pity set into her features as she shakes her head and hurries off. I stand there smugly, finishing my clove in peace.

Point: me.

what ABOUT drinking?

So lots of partying and clubbing... that's what Thanksgiving is all about! For my birthday weekend, one of us got kicked out of the club for wearing shorts (which was lame, because the club wasn't THAT gucci) and when I finally got out, I made friends with random guys who offered me weed and checked out my boobs. Then last weekend was gay clubbing and I once again made friends with random (gay) guys who distinctly did not check out my boobs but did accidentally make me drop a cigarette down my shirt. And then offer me nachos while stealing drags as we ate tacos. I ordered in Spanish and pretty much made the guy's night.

This is what happens when I either don't have adult supervision OR my adult supervision is meekly standing by while I wander off to hang out with people who look interesting. Or they're just not paying attention while I go to the next table to hang out with THAT group because I grabbed the wrong chair (see: tacos).

In any case, I might have a problem, because I was linked to this: What About Drinking? And at the end, the guy says, "What do you think? What about drinking?"

My first thought? "Turn this video into a drinking game!"

It's okay if I have a problem because I'm adorable.

Back to the grindstone!

hullo, my name is Drunkie McSparkles

Oh gosh but it was an awesome weekend. Who loves Halloween? This bitch loves Halloween.

I ended up in the gay district of the gayest city in this nation, known for the gay and the awesome, and I was STILL the most glittery person there. YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW. I was the fairyest fairy ever. Just to give you some sort of guestimate:



That flash picked up about a quarter of the glitz that was on my body. The wings were kind of a bitch to move around with in the club but it all worked out in the end with no permanent damage to anybody. I was with a few friends, who were dressed as a Musketeer, a Goth, and a Double Rainbow. We tasted that rainbow. IT WAS DELICIOUS.



I kind of dressed up as the alcohol fairy. No, that's not my real hair; I have several wigs. I know you love it. Here's a better shot of it:



I don't even want to mention how many drinks I had, but I was definitely the Alcohol Fairy. I made a few friends and loved on random strangers and tipped ridiculously at the bars because costumes cloud my judgment. I threw up with my friend in the bushes as a bonding moment and woke up in a bathtub at one point. My own bathtub, no worries. I did smoke outside and my friend who has previously threatened me with extreme bodily harm if I ever smoked did not bodily harm me.

The entire point of this post was to really say that I'm going to miss this. Objectively I'm way more mature and responsible than this. I do know my alcohol limit. I do know how to dress appropriately in public and how to party conservatively with close friends and maybe a game of Pictionary. But I'm 22, goddammit. Being dumb and drunk with my ass EVERYWHERE, that is something that I CAN do right now, and for some reason it gives me a thrill because I can do it and not look like a tool. Heavy drinking is not alcoholism, it's being young. When I get older and attempt to do the same, I will look dicriculous and people will ridicule me. Or that's what I fear.

So I'm living it up while I still have the right, nay, the EXPECTATION to be irresponsible.

Plus I look awesome after a night of you hard drinking:

Forsooth, fair maiden

My friend: "Wouldst thou care to frequent an establishment for the purpose of alcohol consumption with my sisters and I upon the eve?"

Me: "I would be positively delighted, my love."

Basically, my friends know how to cheer me up. My health care might be canceled (which is okay, what with my heart condition and all), I have to housesit at an old guy's house that includes taking care of 3 large, untrained dogs, and my taxes just became 50 times more complicated. Fuck this noise. The cure? ALCOHOL.

Elbow-deep in chestal cavity

Dude, way too many strange guys have been seeing my boobs while I've been sober. Something's not right here.

MAYBE IT'S THE PART WHERE I HAVE TO BE SOBER.

I can't have alcohol or caffeine or smoke for a full day before my surgery, to avoid risk of heart palpitations.

I SAY WORK AROUND THEM, THIS LADY WANTS A SODA GODDAMN.

But seriously, it's becoming commonplace for a dude to lift my shirt without even asking my name beforehand nowadays. Sure, he's sticking electrodes to my skin and staring at a machine instead of my cute new bra, but I still want a drink before I flash the guy like it's Mardi Gras and he is the man with the beads to need.

And then tomorrow not only will my surgeon be rummaging around my breasticles, they'll have a visiting doctor, and the two of them together can stare pensively at nipples.

I need black duct-tape to censor myself. TONIGHT.

Edit: DONE. MY NIPPLES WILL BE PRESERVED FROM VIEW FOR THE NEXT GENERATION.

...ew. The next generation does NOT need to look at my nipples.

I'd swear I'm not a lush but I'd be lying

Painkillers don't work on me, not really. I ripped up (not totally off) a good portion of a toenail a week ago and have been hobbling around on it for a while, which really impeded dancing.

See where there is a conflict of interest?

And I still have to defend my ramen against my cat. I don't think 'ramen' is a good food preference for a cat. My cat likes everything, and I keep feeding him stuff for my own sick amusement. So far the only thing he DOESN'T like is Pepsi. I'm pretty sure that's not right. If there was a union for cats, he'd be kicked out of it.

And now it sounds like I only have ramen and Pepsi for sustenance. Oh no, it was my birthday, I have a shitton of free food to nom. Also more booze. A friend got me a bottle of rum for my birthday because SHE KNOWS ME. LIKE, KNOWS MY SOUL. And then people kept buying me drinks. I love my friends because they're enablers, purr.

God, every time I update this thing I'm drinking, smoking, or clubbing. My life is not the life of a rebel sans cause. I do shit like pay storage rent and get dental checkups and jump into my pants with both legs at the same time like everybody else. But clubbing is still amazingly fun, and if you can afford it, go for it.

I'm sorry, back to clubbing. We went to a club in the city and danced it up to top 40's and hiphop, although they repeated songs just like last year, goddamn go on iTunes and download some shit, people, you have three hours and there are more songs than that. I got good and tipsy, and at my high point my friend said something to me and I licked another friend on the mouth. I think that's what was pressing on my mind the whole night, not that I did something so odd and snag a friend and lick her on the mouth, but because now she won't think I'm a good kisser. Which I don't think you can judge with a drunk person anyway. Which was my logic at that time, and now, I'm like "Dude, I don't want to get in that friend's pants anyway, why am I worried she's judging my non-kissing?" and I think that maybe she'll tell prospective hotties that I'm a bad kisser, but she's still a friend even though I licked her mouth, so probably she'll just tell them I can lick my own nipples or something completely ridiculous.

I totally didn't throw up out of a car this year and it was fun even with Creepy Korean telling me to chug my drink and not taking "no," "no," "fuck no," "get the fuck away, asshole," "I will rip out that greasy rag you call a soul, wrap it around your dismembered kittenish testicles, set it on fire, and shove it down your throat if you don't back the fuck off" for an answer. Actually, a stranger came to my rescue, which was nice. I like it when guys feel chivalrous, it always means helping me or buying me things. I know how to change my own tire inside and out but I've never had to.

Yes, so, happy birthday to me. I'm cold, but I have a leftover bottle of rum to finish, and if that doesn't work to warm me up, I can just set fire to my alcohol-soaked liver. The flames will be beautiful.