Reality is malleable. Things that you wouldn�t dare do or think all the sudden sound like jolly good idea�s! Everybody knows that alcohol is like truth serum, but there goes a point beyond that where it isn�t even truth anymore, you just pick random shit out of the sky and hold it in high esteem for no apparent reason. I distinctly remember having a conversation last night regarding uh.. varnished wood. I think.. Anyway, the point is I was very vehement about this conversation, I�d go so far as to say I bordered on varnished wood zealocy. And the possibility remains that the person I was having this conversation with... didn�t even exist.
It�s possible I found someone who was obscenely fascinated with varnished wood and just happened to start talking to this person out of sheer luck... but it�s also possible I went insane.
You know that at some point you have to disregard what drunk people say because they�re drunk? Yet people still maintain that you are more likely to speak the truth when your inhibitions are drowning in gin. It�s telling the difference that�s the hard part. It�s true, after 3-4 glasses of wine, I�ll pretty much tell you whatever you want to know in a pretty matter of fact fashion. Inner desires and emotions are usually exaggerated a bit, but that�s kind of a given. 8 glasses and beyond? I�m just as likely to tell you I was abducted by space cow-aliens. Mainly because I think that much alcohol defeats the brainwashing of those evil space cow-aliens, but that�s not my point. Hell, I don�t even know my point. Shut up!
Oh and cell phones! Yes, this is a great idea. Get completely shit faced and start calling people. Right, good stuff. I�ve no idea who I called last night, I could find out easy enough by checking my call logs but to be blunt.. I�m too embarrassed. The one drunk dial that I�ve heard about so far was me uh.. asking for her to make these two drunk chicks go away. Uh... I typically have no problem, what so ever, in regards to making women flee me when I�m so inclined. Drunk strippers not withstanding (they are like fucking termites). So I�ve no idea what the hell that was all about.
And no, I don�t remember a damned thing. That�s the great thing about the human mind. It�s protecting me from remembering all the ridiculous shit I did last night. Yay mind! I�m sure someone somewhere will fuck it up by reminding me, but whatever.
I usually try and speak with a certain amount of eloquence in normal day conversation, it�s good practice for when I join my polo club, but it�s great when I�ve had too much to drink because I try to speak with even more eloquence, and fuck it up badly. So if you see me and I�m talking like a two-bit drunk aristocrat, it�s safe to ignore me completely as I�ll have nothing to say worth hearing. Of course, I�ll think it�s interesting and insist that you should agree, but it really isn�t. I�ll probably just go on about my days at Harvard or how I met Jim Morrison or the whole space cow-alien thing, you know. Basically, I�m a completely full of shit. And yes, I�ve actually told people I personally met Jim Morrison. How do I know this? They�ve called me a few days later complaining that Jim died before I was born. Oookay. Score one for the drunk pathological liar�s club!
Anyway, what a crazy night. I�m still trying to figure out why I was sleeping in my living room with my front door open, yet had a drunk diary entry (bad bad bad) which came from the computer in my bedroom. I went back to the living room to sleep? How silly.
And it�s hard to try and be in an introspective pissy mood when I keep giggling about the senselessness of last night. Yes, I actually have the giggles. I was trying to order my bagel this morning and I kept giggling 
.
It was good though. I need to be reminded now and then that I really shouldn�t get so intoxicated. It�ll be a few months before I need reminding again. At least I had fun and no one died.
Weee I drunk emailed people too, wonderful! Yes, I must broadcast to as many people as possible what a complete ass I am! Fuckity fuck. Now I�m really starting to wonder if someone was with me or not. I�ve no god damned clue. Yeesh. Is damage control the normal routine after a night of binge drinking? Or is this just me?
Bleh.
-G