After hugging the toilet bowl for three hours today, lying in bed moaning in agony until 2 p.m., and generally accomplishing nothing other than eating an entire tub of Smarties ice-cream, I’ve called it quits. I am too old for this shit.
When did I become unable to drink like a normal person? When did I blur the lines between “having a casual beer” and “getting super-smashed-face loaded”?
I have been suffering with the flu for the past week or so, but decided to go out on Friday night because I hadn’t seen some friends since before France. We went to The Ship (which I despise more than the taste of stomach acid) to see the Tom Fun Orchestra: a nine-member band from Cape Breton. The band was actually really good… the only people equally patriotic to Newfoundlanders are Cape Bretoners, so the whole atmosphere was super upbeat and fun. Unfortunately, I was tired and not into dancing, what with coughing up phlegm and all. I mostly hung back and creeped on my cute new co-worker, who obviously did not recognize me. He was hanging out with a girl who was greasier than a Big Mac.
Saturday, my friends decided to have an all-day drink-a-thon. This is what happens when the sun decides to shine in Newfoundland: everyone is filled with peace and love and happiness and a need to get absolutely hammered. So TOR and I tanned on the back deck all afternoon while the boys dragged out the kitchen table and played Risk for hours on the grass.
Risk gets violent when booze is involved
Did I mention how much I love wieners?
Then everyone showed up to have a barbecue, and before 9 we had a full-blown, raging party. We smoked hookah, made a mess and headed downtown to see Greener’s band perform. I did not make out with anyone, not even the beautiful Indian boy who appeared at my house smartly dressed and flashing pearly white teeth. Another guy told me he thought it was intimidating that I’m a technical writer, but he was an engineer. Really?! I write about YOUR crap. Because my crap isn’t nearly as interesting. Maybe this is why boys don’t like me. Because I have a career?
Whoa, is that a sensible drunk picture?
If he were in an Irish pub with wenches dancing around him, this would be perfect
Hookah, which sounds deviously illegal
Alright, back on the healthy track tomorrow, because this is getting out of hand.
I miss my daddy. I miss his barbecues, his paintings, his stories. I miss sharing a drink with him at 11 p.m. when everyone else is in bed. I love that he built our house and nearly everything we own. I love that he keeps sending me money even though I’m obviously completely careless and frivolous. I love that he’s a woodsman who would rather live in a cabin, in the middle of the forest, alone, than ever live in a city. I need to get home.
6 comments
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June 22, 2009 at 4:16 am
blunt delivery
ok, so where are you from then? and why did you move to newfoundland… i’m assuming job? and also, do you work from home… it sounds like you have real life co-workers… a concept i’m not used to.
oh, and about the drinking. you have NO IDEA. the MINUTE, every INSTANT you turn 25, it’s all over. 2-3 drinks and i’m gone. any more than that and i’m sick for at minimum of a day afterwards. the body does NOT recover quite like it used to.
and why, after all these years, can i never seem to know when i’ve had one too many until it’s waaaay too late and someone’s stripping?
June 22, 2009 at 12:50 pm
angryredhead
i’m from Newfoundland, just central NL… i moved to st john’s to finish university, fell in love with the city and decided to stay. wooo! and no, i work at an office downtown. i was pretty fortunate to get this job straight outta university.
and by someone stripping, do you mean YOU stripping? i seem to have hit the “low alcohol tolerance” stage early, because sweet jesus it’s getting difficult to wake up every weekend with no recollection of what happened the night before. i haven’t stripped yet though, someday…someday…
June 22, 2009 at 5:03 pm
linlah
umm..can I have your kitchen table? It would look nice on my patio.
June 22, 2009 at 7:18 pm
angryredhead
you can have it, and while you’re at it take the gawdawful end tables from the 1800s
June 23, 2009 at 3:42 pm
ourcrookedtree
OMG I could have written this post last Monday. How is it that I go from “let’s go out and have a couple of drinks after work” to needing a ride home? Is it age or are we redheads really wired differently and allergic to alcohol! Yikes! The horror.
June 23, 2009 at 4:40 pm
angryredhead
Jeeesus, you’d think that redheads would have more resistence to alcohol, since we’re apparently naturally fiesty. Plus my entire family is a bunch of alcoholics. I mean, when I was in University I drank myself silly and still managed to attend all my classes….where did I go wrong?