Creepy New Years!

When New Years Eve rolled around, I found myself on day number three of my battle against the sickness. The night before, I had stayed in, downing pints of Thermaflu and popping Sudafed PE. Towards the end of the evening I began sipping on some Tylenol Sore Throat medicine, which for all intensive purposes was fucking peyote, cause I was "trippin" (as the kids like to say.)

So when I woke up on New Years Eve, things were a little off. I tried playing some video games, but my hand-eye coordination was absolutely shot, I was about three seconds too slow on everything, and I kept tackling my own players while playing Madden. Probably not the right state of mind to do some serious drinking on, but, whatever. After watching "Trading Places" twice in one sitting (perhaps the most underrated comedy of the 1980's) I felt refreshed enough to handle some libations.

Notice I said some libations. I was not, however, prepared to handle what I did drink, which would be half a bottle of Jameson, a bottle of red, various mix drinks, and a bottle of bubbly.

If I had done all of that doping and drinking in the solitude of my own home, there probably would not have been a problem (other than the serious substance abuse problem which would clearly be on display) but instead, I did them in the presence of hundreds of others at a rather ridiculously large private party in downtown St. Louis. Things did not go well.
Case in point:


I gambled and lost. A follow-through, if you will. Luckily it happened while I was in the men's room. But still, when you even have to debate with yourself about whether or not your boxer-briefs should just be thrown away while you're at a party...it's time to go.

And away we went. By that time, I was so far gone that I didn't even really question whether or not it was a good idea for The Lady Friend to pinch the cheeks of a middle aged police officer on the street and tell him that he looked cute. In fairness, he did help us snag a taxi, but still, pinching cop's cheeks? That just don't seem right.

But, nothing about that evening does seem exactly right. In a perfect world, I will have learned my lesson and will never drink while on cold medicine again.

In the real world, however, it will probably happen more times than I wish for. And I very much would like to tell you not to what I have done, but in hindsight, that was one of the more fun New Years Eves in recent memory.

In fact, I'd have no problem doing it all over again (well, all except the poopy butt.)

As you so eloquently put things, it was "Top Times". I also took part in drinking the whole bottle of cham-pag-ne that was handed to me. Actually, I managed to pour a couple glasses for people, but when I ran out, I promptly asked if could borrow someone else's and finished it off for them.
I did not care for the first band, however that last band was funk-tastic.
I'm sorry to hear about the poopy butt, it happens to the best of us. Of course, I've never done it. Shit, if I did that, I'd probably go into seclusion......but you're still cool.
And what was the deal with the bars that night? Did they run out of mixers or liquor or something?
Ha, sounds like a great time, Al. Only the best (appetizers) in 2006.
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