A Prodigal Son

There are large gaps in my memory of last night.

Here is a short list of things I do remember:

+A quesadilla with  chicken, garlic (whole parts, it was amazing), and jalapeno peppers; and two pints of Harp ($3 special) at the Morseland bar
+Buying groceries at Kim's Corner Store (Triscuits, chocolate milk, bleach, cheese, and 2 bottles of Canada Dry Ginger Ale)
+My Xbox 360 suffering the Red Ring of Death
+Starting the movie "Knocked Up"
+Making a very stiff mix of shitty gin and Canada Dry Ginger Ale
+Talking to the girl I kinda like but am getting over online, and talking to my friend who is telling me I should tell her that I like her
+Waking up this morning in pajamas and in bed with enough time to shower and get to work on time

Here is a list of things I don't remember:

+I didn't turn the dvd off
+The last part of the movie I remember is the scene at the birthday party when Seth Rogen completely blows it with Katherine Heigl
+Saying "I Like You" to megan, but I'm not sure if she was online or not, or if she got it or not, I'm kinda nervous about that...
+I forgot to set my alarm and have a great internal clock (was up at 630)
+What time I went to bed
+getting into bed
+taking 2 ibuprofen
+how many shots i had last night (12 I think)
+I dunno how much else

Getting blackout drunk is probably not a smart move for a Monday night.  Especially when that monday is followed by a tuesday, and that tuesday starts bright and early at 6 and lasts until 10 that night.  Add to that a mostly empty stomach, the fact that I was alone, and still having homework to do, and you have a recipie for disaster.

I somehow managed to wake up at 6:30 and shower and hop a train to be to work by 8:00 (it takes about an hour to get to work).  Staggering around the apartment this morning I realized I was still drunk.  It had to be at least 6 hours of sleep, maybe more, hopefully not less.  And I'm still drunk as I'm standing in the shower.  It's an unpleasant thing, our shower.  In order to get the water to a decent temperature you need to turn the hot knob all the way up, and barely tap the cold knob.  Then, once the water has gone from freezing cold to scalding hot and then back to a mildly too hot, you turn on the shower.  It comes out ice cold for a split second and then burning hot and then it levels out, but only for a minute.  Then you have to sit and fiddle with the cold knob, but ever so gently, because anything more than a light tap will make it freezing cold or boiling hot (it's hard to tell).  I walked to the train (still drunk) and it was freezing and the hair on my head froze, and I thought about needing to wear a hat.  I sat down in a corner seat as far away from people and the door as it is possible to get (not far enough) and I'm still drunk.  I start reading Faulkner (which is tough to do sober, which I am not).  I stopped reading Faulkner (see the previous paranthetical).  An hour later I'm off the train, and slowly crawling back into my own skull.  And dunkin donuts saves the day.  Black coffee and anything breaded, the best cure for the state I'm in.

Now sober and sluggish, I'm at work at the reference desk.  I'm not hung over, which I believe is undeniable proof for there being a god.  That and the platypus, I mean it's a duck-billed otter mammal avian thing that lays eggs.

I don't know what got me drunk alone last night.  I mean i know it was the gin.  But what really got me drunk.  Was it the Xbox?  It sucks and on the weekend that would be a good reason.  But I got drunk on a monday night.  Does that make me an alcoholic?  I doubt it.  I think it's impossible to be an alcoholic when you're 21.  Well, what I mean is when you didn't drink any alcohol until your 20th birthday, and only got drunk once before turning 21 (five months before), then I think making up for lost time is a better word.

Quick Aside:  There is an absolutely gorgeous girl in the library right now.  wheat blonde hair, navy blue hoodie.  God I'm single...

I love how I feel like I need to justify my drinking habits.  It's like my relationships (romantic and platonic).  I either dabble slightly with one drink, or I go in full force and the above happens.  There is none of that in between.  No happy buzz.  Either sober or gone.

That says it all.

"When I get to California gonna write my name in the sand.  Gonna lay this body down and watch the waves roll in."

"If I fight on in my campaign, all the way to the convention, I would forestall the launch of a national campaign and make it more likely that Senator Clinton or Obama would win. And in this time of war, I simply cannot let my campaign, be a part of aiding a surrender to terror."

- Mitt Romney
(from news.yahoo.com)

I'm on the desk at work.  My boss keeps passing by "going to the bathroom."  I've never seen him with a water bottle or any drink for that matter, so that leads me to believe that he doesn't actually "go to the bathroom," but instead checks up on me because he doesn't like me sitting behind the desk.  Whatever, I leave to go home in five minutes.

I got a little emo last night and I feel like maybe I overreact which is the way I appear to be in the journal because I only ever feel motivated to write under extreme emotion, usually one leaning more towards the darker spectrum.  When I'm happy I don't feel any drive to do anything but revel in the sheer exuberance.  Therefore what shows up here is a more emo me.  It's not me.  Anyone who knows me (take my friend noble for instance) defines me as "perpetually chipper," because that is what I am, because life is good.

Week one is done and I'm behind on homework.  Now I have to head home.  A larger update will follow when I get there