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The Quality Drinking Brings
July 4th, 2008 by Green GriffinLast night. Red Thursday. A night I do not remember a lot of.
I’ll start at the start. Or at least I’ll start not at the end, you know, as most good stories do (well, The Usual Suspects is a great story, and it starts near the end. As does Fight Club actually, and Memento now I think of it. Maybe I should actually start near the end then recap everything else after [before] that point? Yeah. that could be fun.)
I am in my room. I have been here many times before. But have I really? It is clean, it is dark. My pants are on the ground, my phone is in my hand.
Did I just get here?
Was I going somewhere? Calling someone?
I look at my recent messages – I told Rockstar I have her ID, interesting. I remember having it, it’s in my jeans.
I search the pockets, the ID is not there. Did I lose a lost ID? I call Ben, maybe he knows – granted, its 4.30am, but still, this is apparently important.
Ben was sleeping, maybe. He does have the ID, that is some weight off my mind – but now the bigger problem, why am I home?
Oh, it’s 4.30, that makes sense. But how did everyone else get home? I know I walked, I always walk, but what of the girls? When did I last see them? My mind races back as far as it can go. Apparently that is only up to the phone call to Ben. Damn Alcohol! (no, I take that back). Surely I saw them safely into a taxi, or at least safely somewhere. Ben wouldn’t have just walked home with me otherwise. Right?
There is one way to solve this, texts. Two of them, too Pocket-Spoon, she will say it’s all fine and that will solve everything.
No reply. Well, when being indirect doesn’t work you make phone calls. Lots of them. No answer. I am freaking out about this for some reason. For some other reason I get over it and pass out. So is my life.
Suddenly I realise that all of this, has got something to do with a girl named Marla Singer.
No, wait. Back up. Let me start earlier. For six months, I couldn’t sleep.
I couldn’t sleep.
OK, now I have my Fight Club moment out of the way I can carry on.
It was just going 6 o’clock. Dinner was ready but I had other plans. I raced [walked] up to the liquor store and brought a box of Fuse. I give my ID to the girl at the counter knowing full well she knows who I am and has ID’d me many times. She reminds me of this fact and together with the owner we laugh. I could be wrong but I think she wants me. Scratch that, I am wrong, it’s a nice thought though. As I race [walk] back home I am amused and disturbed by the fact that the liquor store staff are so well acquainted with me.
After dinner I retire [go] to my room and have a beer while playing around on the net. I don’t yet understand the full plan for the evening and assume people will text me with my required activities.
No one texts. I have another beer.
Being proactive as I am I text Ben and soon find I am at his house. All is well (except for the fact I now realise we didn’t watch zen master – does it still count as a red thursday without it?).
Four more drinks down and Ben and I depart. We have had wonderful conversations filled with laughter and deep and meaningful messages [massages?].
Red Thursday, a day like no other (except for being so similar to many other days). Good turn out, lots of red, happiness fills me.
Events tend to blur here, I know as much as I didn’t walk to town. Ben gave me a ride? Thanks Ben, it is much appreciated. I don’t know where we parked.
I wasn’t going to jump the line but I saw John and he called me up.
Hey, when you are this popular what can you do?
I don’t remember 101. My bank account does. I am going to step out and say I am a good friend. It is much more preferable to the alternative – you know, an alcoholic. I can see I was still getting grandfather claused in, this pleases me.
Bakehouse also saw my business. Weird. I don’t so much like bakehouse. I burped, I had garlic bread, I am happy about this (you didn’t need to know that did you?).
I remember a girl called Sarah. Hannahs friend. Have I met her before? I wish I was not so bad with names. She tells me to find Hannah, I seem to accept this as a reasonable mission.
Wow, I have confused the timeline, that was at 11.24. Why was I so drunk at that time?
I make a Chasing Amy reference though text. It is not understood, that makes sense, no one has seen that movie. Oh well.
That was actually one of the funnier parts of the night. I was writing a text message, looked down and then realised I didn’t know who or why I was texting so finished the messages with a song reference. I mean, how could that possibly ever go wrong or lead to dramas?
I know I was just getting you hooked, but I think I have basically told as much of the story that I remember or need to tell. Plus this leaves you wanting a sequel? I don’t know, I am no book-writer-guy.
Bring on Saturday, Red Thursday didn’t finish me off (Is that a dirty reference? It is up to you at this point! (was that one?))
