Sobriety Is A Symptom Of Alcohol Deficiency

Oh god did last night suck.

Here's the short version of the night:
"So the directions... shit"
"If no one's leaving, how do we get in?"
"Why the fuck am I so god damn sober?"
"$30 for a beer?"

Now of the full version:
Originally, all plans for the evening had fallen through and we didn't think we were going anywhere. (The we I speak of is Amber, my Pet Lesbian, and I) but a call from one of our burger night guest stars changed our plans from drinking and watching movies to packing up and heading to Newport (an hour from Elsinore).

We took off late from the house because everyone had to get dressed (and I needed my clothes to dry...)

We hit the road at 9:30pm and after some directional dysfunctions we finally parked the car at 11:00pm. Luckily Elena had enough change in her car to cover us for 3 hours, but that also meant we were on a deadline to re-feed the meter. But no worries, right?

For those familiar with Newport, there is no decent parking, ANYWHERE. To make matters worse, all the bars are in the same block, so while it's a kick ass place to bar hop any other night, on a holiday it's a nightmare. Every bar has ridiculously long line, and Sharkey's was no exception. This line was long, I mean really fucking long. We wound up in an alley around the corner from the bar. And this place was so packed that the dance floor was reduced to a heaving mass of shoulder-to-shoulder drunks (and all we could do is look in with pure envy).

On a side note, there was a huge coincidence that night, see, we went to Sharkey's to meet Andrea, but what we didn't expect was that The Jeff was at the same bar. (We ascertained this information only after a series of drunk calls). So while we were in line I txt The Jeff to come to the window and wave hi to us from inside the club. He txt me back "wait right there." we started thinking that he was going to do something funny through the window or buy our way in or (The Jeff is like that). Sure enough he comes stumbling out of the bar and pulls us out of line. Once were out of line he asks us if we want to go to a party. This was cool except we wanted to get into the bar, not leave it. (Thus the reason why were waiting in line) so now we needed to get Andrea out and take her with us (I’m not sure why).

Once again a series of drunk calls finally gets Andrea out of the bar along with some dude in a kilt, he’s all about taking her back to his house for a good rail’n (and I couldn’t blame him, it’s St Patrick’s Day for everyone.) Well kilt boy starts inviting all of us back to his place with promises of booze. Yeah, no such luck. See, Kilt Boy forgot that he and his roommates polished off every form of alcohol in his place before they left. So there we were, horribly sober with nothing to remedy the situation. The only solution I could find was to simply open my own bar. I shot out to a convinence store with the intention of grabbing some booze, meeting back up with The Jeff (who was out rounding up his buddies) and then heading out this mystery party he mentioned.

Unbeknownst to us, while The Jeff “Said” when was going to go get his buddies and meet back with us, they actually jumped into their car and drove to Huntington Beach. It took us half an hour and another drunk call to realize that there was no point in continuing to wait.

At this point amber and I had had it, we were tired of watching Andrea make out with Kilt Boy and we were tired of running around trying to coordinate with people who were blissfully drunk while we were painfully sober.

So we gathered up the Pet Lesbian and hit the road, much to my chagrin I realized that our little trip to the liquor store cost me thirty bucks (beer & vodka), and I only got to drink one beer. Yeah, one $30 non-green beer on St. Patrick’s Day… that’s just a crime *sniffle*.

The current status of this tee-totaling trio was edgy to say the least. Amber was livid, and rightly so, and with the hate-waves emanating from her I was all for giving her a wide birth. I was pissed, but I decided to hold my tongue, after all, with amber in the state she was in it would have just been kindling on the fire. As for my Pet Lesbian, well, at the liquor she decided to buy a Rock Star and mix it with some vodka, this made her so hyper that she just couldn’t shut up for more than five seconds.

As she yammered on in the backseat I had to give a bit advise:
“You might want to be quite it for a few minuets because I really don’t want Amber to stuff you in the trunk.”

We made it home a little before 2:00 am, which is good cause the parking meter was still running (no need to feed the beast).

Once inside Amber took her anger in her room and passed out. My Pet Lesbian and I started watching Sin City, but little miss energy fizzled out in the first 20 min.




Last night should have been this good:


But it was this bad:






Exile

Original_exile@hotmail.com