Why I Stay Away from Vodka…
Stuckintheseventies423 here, reporting to you LIVE on this quiet Friday night from my patio once again (too hot in my garage). I don’t know what it is about the cool night air (thank you rain, fuck you heat wave) but it always manages to conjure distant memories (probably because I’m alone). I guess I just like writing stories. Whether it’s a short story, a screenplay, poetry/lyrics, or even comics (been drawing again lately) my mind never stops thinking about the places I’ve been to, the people I’ve met, and the things I’ve seen. It’s funny to me how those experiences get incorporated into my writing but I feel like it gives me a chance to try and sort things out for myself, I suppose. Every so often, it’s nice to just come on here and tell an embarrassing story or to bitch about my job (sorry about that).
This brings me to the time where I officially quit drinking vodka. I was a senior in high school. Yeah, I’m quite the fuck up but sometimes to find your limit with alcohol you have to fuck up a few times. Now, I’d already been drinking for a few years so I wasn’t new to vodka. In fact, it always seemed like the easiest thing for people to get a hold of. So it was everywhere and I didn’t have a problem with that. That all changed one night when my parents went down to Atlantic City leaving the house in my hands (I’m surprised I haven’t accidentally burned the place down yet). I’d been having a rough year (I guess I’m still not over some things) and was looking to get wrecked. Well, I ended up getting wrecked! Wrecked as in R.E.K.D!
The night started off with two of my friends coming over (MP and MH). We sifted through the liquor cabinet where we discovered a full bottle of vodka (it was Smirnoff, ugh) and then we looked for something to mix it with. We only came up with orange juice and so the three of us started throwing back screwdrivers and a few delectable smokables like it was nobody’s business. We watched a number of horror movies that night including Wrong Turn (I don’t know why, but we couldn’t stop laughing) and the original Texas Chainsaw Massacre. By the end of TCM, I was already nine screwdrivers deep (must’ve been trying to forget about something) and was no longer capable of walking straight lines (yet, I kept making more). The second the credits started rolling I looked at my two buddies and muttered, “Man, what a crazy movie…BLAAAAH!”
I yakked all over the coffee table as MP and MH literally jumped out of their seats (fuck, it was the scariest thing they saw all night). MH had his head in the right place and darted for the kitchen, grabbed the trashcan, and placed it in front of me where I continued to spit up my insides! Now, the trashcan we have is one of those kinds where you have to step on the little pedal for it to stay open. Well, MH forgot about this feature and he let go of the lid. The last thing I really remember before I started blacking out was the metal lid slamming shut on the back of my neck/head. After this, the rest of the night was a blur as I sat on the couch with my face buried in a trashcan. I faded in and out of consciousness, occasionally hearing bits and pieces of their conversation as they tried to figure out what to do with me. MP was insistent on leaving while MH wanted to hang around until I started to show signs of life again. And then everything went black…
I eventually woke up some time in the night all by myself (which is scary when you’re THAT shit faced) and the only thing that brought comfort to my mind was the fact that at least I was home. Of course, I still had a tremendous amount of puke to clean up (the downside to having long hair) and I only dealt with about half of the mess before I called it quits and went to bed. Feeling like I had flirted with alcohol poisoning that night, I made a solemn vow the next day that I would never drink vodka EVER AGAIN! I’ve made good on that promise and now I really only drink beer and whiskey. And because I “fucked up” I now have limits! Learn from your mistakes (though, there’re something’s I’ll never figure out).
So there you go. Deprecating myself for everyone’s reading pleasure. Everyone has a story like this (shit, most are even worse than mine).
That’s about it, I should really sleep more.
Till next time, let us rock in peace
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