It's been a while since I posted. At first, that's because I was fucking Ralphie and emotionally I felt myself getting involved, which made me hesitant to post. Then, Ralphie left, and I started getting wasted with far too much frequency.
Here are some notes from those lost weeks of drunkenness:
-On August 17, I celebrated a friend's birthday. His 21st, in fact. Since he's half-french/half-australian, he's been drinking since he could walk, but since we're in the states, he can now legally buy alcohol. Right, so with him and a group of friends, we hit the bars, and luckily, we weren't carded. Probably because it was Wednesday night and we don't look like teenagers. Ralphie texted me while we were drinking. I invited him to join us, but he declined. He did indicate that he wanted to come over though. Since it was only a few night before he had to leave, I agreed. Relatively early, at 11 Pm, the party broke up, and I drunkenly biked back home with a friend while singing Flobots - Handlebars acapella. Ralphie arrived, we climbed in bed together, he told me I reeked of drinking. Which I did. I was near blackout drunk at that point, and I struggled to perform well, but apparently, I performed adequately. Although, he did have to suck me off to get me hard.
-August 25. That Thursday, my friends wanted to go to Babylon, the local gay club, to watch the drag show. They let in 18 and up, but only serve drinks to 21+. Being the only one in the group under 21, I pre-gamed. Specifically, I had 4 shots of vodka so cheap and strong it could be used as paint thinner, then some beers and ciders. And I did it under half an hour. By the time we made it to the club, I was smashed. I held it together long enough to get in, and had a good time, which is saying something. I hate Babylon. I made a post about the last time I visited back in February that I never posted. I should, because I hate dancing and I hate Babylon, but I was drunk enough not to notice. A friend took a picture of me, sweaty, drunk, mastering the 1000 yard stare. Good times.
-August 27. Saturday night, the rugby house threw its first party. Which was mostly just rugby guys, their women, and some extra friends who tagged along. As the night wore on and the drinks grew stronger, we all started wearing hats, which had appeared from somewhere. So, as I was sitting there, drinking a cup of whatever was in the gin bucket at that point (probably sprite, vodka, and gin), a tall lanky fellow wearing a bright red pimp hat and holding a bamboo pipe, pointed at me, and looking into my soul with wild crazy eyes, he majestically intoned "Good sir, would you care to blaze with me?" And I said "sure." So, standing outside in the warm summer evening, still wearing ridiculous hats, we lit up and smoked. Shortly thereafter, the party began winding down. Tall McPimphat asked if I would care to walk back with him, as we were quite far from campus. Since I lived on the other side of campus from the rugby house, I concurred, and hatless, we headed off into the night. Somehow or another, I believe on his suggestion, we found ourselves in the middle of a cemetery. Realizing that there are only three types of people who invite you alone into a cemetery, I asked him "Are you gay?" He wasn't. Since he didn't want to hook up, that left only axe murderer or just crazy. Eyeing him, I thought I could take him, so I politely asked him not to axe murder me, and we continued along. At this point though, enough alcohol had sloshed its way through my body to warrant a piss. As cemeteries lack open public facilities in the middle of the night, I anointed one Chris Griffin, or Cliff Giffords, or Griff Cliffords grave with my piss. May he rest in peace, as he has since the 1980s. Or the 1960s. Or the 1890s. I don't really remember.
-September 1st. Another rugby party. This time, upon leaving, I elected not to go through the cemetery. Partway home, I lay down on the sidewalk just to rest a bit, since I had previously consumed yet another gin bucket. Security found me there, and after some fun but polite and coherent drunken antics, they politely drove me home. Once home, my roommates and I went out to our favorite diner, where I got a philly cheesesteak and we talked with out favorite waiter. Crashing in bed later that evening, I realized: I drink too much.
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