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The Hangover. (Not the movie)

06 May

Drink is a vile thing and I pity those who imbibe too much.

Like me today.

I went out Saturday night to an old friend’s birthday party at a restaraunt that was stuck in the 70’s.

Like a Twilight Zone episode, the decor, the people, hell even the drinks.

Within 5 minutes of walking thru the door, I found myself sitting at the bar, drinking a Tom Collins and discussing Cuba with a guy and his wife who run a little hardware store.

However, once the birthday party started, things got a little more normal and a whole lot worse.

The worse part came in the realization that that I hung out with these aforementioned “old” friends back when I first started to drink and party.

There are long forgotten party reflexes that lay dormant hidden way back in the recesses of your mind.

And these reflexes have only a single purpose.

To get totally fucked up.

This reflex has no understanding of age, currently illnesses or conditions, or the simple fact that I have to work in the morning.

The reflex is very single minded in this pursuit.

Which made Sunday a blurr of stomach and head pain, bathroom issues (See also Quacker Shits) and just a solid feeling of being unwell.

Add to that the yuck taste that seems to live at the back of my throat and you have a day tailor made for just laying there like a pitiful lump.

And then, I finally hauled my ass out into the world to go to Hollywood to watch a Sketch Comedy show that I am involved with.

And the show was good.

Sketch comedy is always good for removing you from whatever life has mired you in and moving you to a different place.

Especially live. Live sketch comedy is loud, in your face and rarely subtle.

Kind of a “Heres the joke, now LAUGH, motherfucker!”

And I also appreciate that quality of it.

But, then something bad happens.

The show is over and the after party happens at this Hollywood historic bar around the corner.

Far be it from me to stand in the way of the grand old tradition of the After Party.

I resolve to only drink Diet Coke.

So, 10 minutes later, I am sipping a margarita.

It really is a well made one, a little heavy on the tequila, but that is never a bad thing.

My stomach is rolling a touch and I am kind of braced at a table, waiting for that whole “Hair of the Dog” thing to kick in and make me feel better.

And it is just not happening.

I decide to switch back to diet coke before I get the shakes.

The show I am involved with is an interesting one.

The cast is always half men and half women.

And the women, cast and crew, are all fairly stunning.

I can see now the wisdom of surrounding yourself with beautiful women.

Makes the whole day a little brighter.

And women involved with comedy, either writing it or performing it, always have something to say, usually funny.

Makes the evening go by a little easier.

I may never drink again.

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Posted by on May 6, 2013 in Uncategorized

 

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