ALCOHOL-INDUCED STREET THEATER
WHAT HAPPENED WHEN I GOT DRUNK LAST NIGHT
If you read Friday's entry entitled, "DRUNK" then you might find this story extra amusing. If you haven't read it, you might read that one first (it's the one after this) and then come back to this one for extra amusement. If that's too much work for you, then just read on, and take your amusement from knowing that you are a lazy, fat fag.
I got too drunk last night. It was awful and also very liberating. The evening started off at my friend David's with a few very tall, very strong glasses of diet coke and vanilla vodka. It sounds gross, but believe me, it even tastes gross. David and I chit-chatted for awhile, then decided to go to the Lower East Side and eat dinner with Christopher, a guy I have been known to canoodle with. We walked to the F train which I don't even remember doing. It was so wierd because neither of us use cocaine, but I guess our brains have somehow evolved the effects of alcohol to react in us the way cocaine is supposed to, so we had a very loud, co-masturbatory, I should say loud again conversation on the subway about how great we both were - me telling David I thought he was the smartest person I know and otherwise elaborating on how great he is, he telling me how talented he thought I was and how likely I am to be a star. Then it digressed into exactly how smart David is out of all the people in the United States. I think we calculated him to be in the top 3,000. Loose and drunk, he let me in on the secret to being rich, which he is, and according to him, it is that you should take risks. Interestingly, we agreed that it is also the secret to being homeless.
Our stop arrived and we walked to The Hat restaurant, but it was packed, so we walked around the corner to where a new comedy club had opened up. It had a very typical sounding comedy club name, like the Chuckle Shack or something like that, and we went in and checked the place out. It was pretty nice and oddly empty for a Friday night, I guess because it is new. We talked for awhile to the owners and waitstaff and David and I did a shot of tequila. I remember thinking at the very second that the little plastic cup was hitting my lips and the warm, bitter booze was flowing over my big bottom lip and into my cheeks and around my tounge that I was so very drunk and I really shouldn't have taken another shot. We left after hanging out there for a good 45 minutes or so and walked back around the corner to the spanish restaurant across the street from The Hat that is run by cool white yuppies. We ordered some food and drink and sat down.
I feel the need to be honest for a moment and digress. I am staying at Christopher's house for the weekend and when I got out of work I tried to call him to see if I could come back to his apartment. He didn't call me back for 3 hours. It bugged me a little bit. I talked to him about it on the phone and he seemed very non-chalant, acting unsure as to why I would possibly be upset, and as if I was being controlling or womany or something. It wasn't a womany thing, it was a I need someplace to go and re-up after working all day kind of thing. I dismissed it, but was still a bit chagrinned. Christopher has an ex who lives near him and who he was friends with for many years before he dated and who he broke up with not very long before we met and who he probably still has some mixed feelings for and she is constantly present. She and he speak on the phone several times a week, as do myself and my ex, Kurt, but she talks lots of shit about me to him and she obviously still loves him and wants to be with him. She also often invites him to come over and fuck her and sleep in her bed and hang out and do errands for her and otherwise tries to complicate things. One time she and I had it out over the phone when she called at 3 am. I asked her to stop calling Christopher and inviting him to sleep in her bed and she defiantly called Christopher the next night and asked him to come and sleep in her bed. Also, Christopher has shown me photos of her naked, he constantly tells me stories about her and him and all his exes and detailed and explicit stories of sex and past relationships. I have complained to Christopher about it many times and he insists both his behavior of dangling his old romantic affairs and his most recent ex's instigatory actions are nothing at all, I should take the high road and be mature about it and I have tried, but it has proven really hard, because I don't like heights and I'm not mature. He also seems to get a kick out of the ruckus that is being kicked up in his name. Christopher does this thing where he fills out magazine subscription cards for all of his friends but makes up bogus names so his friends get free magazines sent to them. I saw one filled out the other day in his room for the ex who I hate and I ripped it up and threw it on the ground like a little baby. I know it was stupid, but it just bugs me that he maintains such close ties with her, especially when she goes out of her way to instigate me. So, when we were leaving the Comedy Hole or whatever the place was called, Christopher dropped a subscription card in the mail and told me it was a replacement of the one I had torn up in a fit of jealousy. SO - let's recap here. There's tension from a three month build-up of non-confrontation with his ex, he had blown me off earlier in the evening and had purposely dropped a little shitbomb on me in the form of a subscription card. This is all information you should know to be able to fully understand what happened next.
We sat and ate at the spanish restaurant for some time. At one point, two scantly clad very attractive women came into the restaurant and Christopher stared at one of the ladies tits and commented, "Look at that cleavage!" Then, I caught him making eyes at her at one point and sneaking glances at her boobs. David, for some reason, ordered me a margarita which I drank and then I think I passed out at the table. When I came to, I had to vomit, so I went out into the street and puked a little bit. Then, David left and Christopher started to walk me back to his apartment, making comments about having to babysit me. I think I made mention of walking past his exes apartment so I could kick her window in, and Christopher made sure we walked in a direction that didn't go past her place.
Christopher and I had run into his ex on the street once before and I wrote about what happened on an earlier blog entry. She began to berate Christopher in the form of a monologue, asking if he were the celebrity who she'd heard so much about, and et cetera ad nauseum. It was funny and entertaining for a few minutes, but she went on and on for about 15 minutes until finally I realized the joke was also kind of on me, too, for having stood there through it. So, I made myself a promise that if we ever ran into eachother on the street and she did anything artily insulting I was going to embarrass her. Well, in a beautiful twist of fate, we ran smack into her on the street last night. She had some kind of black piece of cloth that she started to wrap around her face, and she stood there writhing and acting wierd with this fabric covering her eyes. So, I just started verbally attacking her, saying, "Wow, you are so creative and clever, how funny! How interesting, are you making art right now..." Bla, bla, bla..., you get the point. I guess I had accomplished my goal because she turned around and ran away. Christopher walked me a few feet and then I decided right then and there that I was going to beat the piss out of her, so I turned around and started running to go find her and give her the what for. Christopher then began chasing after me and caught up with me and restrained me. I fought and kicked and argued with him and told him to let me go for a long time, like fifteen minutes, and he wouldn't let me go. I tried to run past him at one point and he smashed me into a brick wall, which hurt a lot. I was yelling to his ex to come back and confront me and not be a pussy. I don't know if she noticed me running after her or heard me yelling but I bet she probably did. Then, I got out my cellphone and called her. I know, it's kind of weird that I have her number, but Christopher called me once from her apartment and I saved the number, thinking it might come in handy some time. Now was that time, I guess. She picked up and I started just bombarding her, telling her I was going to come over to her apartment and throw a rock through her window, and how dare she instigate me all the time, and that I should come over there and kick her ass, and she was still in love with Christopher, and she better knock it off and et cetera and et cetera to infinity. She had nothing to say. All she could do was stammer. She tried to defend herself, but I didn't care, I just wanted to yell at her, and I just kept yelling and yelling until I ran out of energy. Then I hung up.
Christopher and I went inside and he promptly got on the phone and called her to apologize on my behalf which infuriated me, because I wasn't sorry. I wasn't sorry at all. I meant every word I had said to her. It made me so angry that he did that, I broke into tears and yelled at him for calling her and for having rubbed her in my face for months and months and months and for being so lousy in that respect in general. I can't knock him in his entirety, he has a lot of really great qualities. He looks out for me when I get too drunk and he helped me make a nice demo and he cares about my music and he seems to enjoy being with me which as far as I'm concerned is worth a lot. If someone likes me, they must be at the very least, all right. But maybe that's the problem here. Maybe he's just all right.
There's a lot to consider here - we could get into specifics of how Christopher is a jerk for the way he rubs girls in my face and about how he definitely should be dumped by me pretty much immediately and about how I am overly jealous, which I already know I am and will readily admit, and about why do I vomit every time I get drunk? That's an interesting dilemma. Also, there are some elements of interest behind the point that if the situation were reversed and say, Christopher called my ex and screamed at him, would I call my ex and apologize for him? I'd like to say no, I wouldn't, but I'm bad at being sympathetic, so I'm unsure. But none of that is really very important or even so relevant. I'm just telling you a story about how drunk I got last night and the events that took place over the course of several moments in one evening of my life.
I woke up this morning feeling that feeling like something was wrong. My head hurt a little, but I'm lucky, because I rarely ever get hangovers, and my hip had a huge bruise on it from the wall slamming I'd experienced, and I felt kind of rickety, like a wobbly old fence. I had that feeling like something terrible had happened the night before. And it had. I was embarrassed and upset with myself for acting so stupid. I still didn't feel bad about calling the ex and yelling at her, she had that coming to her, and I guess Christopher should have expected that to happen at some point. He called me crazy when we woke up, which bothered me. Men love to call women crazy, but I'm not crazy. I'm fucking sane. I'm awake. Everyone else is crazy. I know I'm different. That is what makes a few hands full of select certain people enjoy being around me and most others hate me. Crazy is just one of the words that people choose to describe that differentness about me, and it has always bugged me, but I guess maybe it shouldn't. In a way, it's a compliment, or at least it is if I twist it around enough in my crazy brain.
Whenever situations like this arise where I am involved with friends or others in some kind of conflict or disagreement, some of what makes the outcome hard for me to deal with is that I never know for sure if I am right. I don't even have enough faith in my arguments or my own conscience to be able to determine if I am out of line or just plain wrong. I usually like to ask third parties for their opinions. I guess the only thing that determines whether or not a person is right or wrong is whether or not they believe they are, and then the law and stuff like that if you want to get into specifics, but I don't want to. I am indecisive by nature, so I usually will flip flop on myself, going back and forth between feelings of elation that come from feeling firm in my convictions, and feelings of confusion that come from feeling like I might be a huge idiot. It is important to me to get a sense of whether I'm right or wrong. It helps me to wrestle with and investigate further into whether or not I might actually be insane. But not girl-style crazy, like, the kind of crazy that is usually preceeded with the words, "that" and "bitch" and "is", but more the kind of insane that comes with paperwork and medicine and slippers. So, tell me what you think. You read this far, you might as well get to analyze my behavior. It's cheaper for me to read your comments than it is for me to go to therapy, and it's funner for you to write comments about my night than whatever other thing you are about to go do. I told you I was going to get drunk yesterday. Why didn't one of you stop me?