Don't Worry, I'm Not Sobering Up Or Anything

I've received enough threatening IMs and emails that I decided it was time to post an apology for the several days of silence here on the blog.

Apart from my usual laziness and lack of inspiration, I also have to blame my ridiculously sore throat. I had just about fooled myself into thinking my new raspy voice might be sexy, when I just went to pick up my laundry and the Korean guy whose English vocabulary formerly consisted of "Pound laundry?" and "Sorry, not ready." suddenly busted out with "What happen to you voice?" Fuck.


ANYWAY, a sore throat simply means I need to drink scotch. Or should I say *more* scotch. Gotta be primed for Baby Jesus Karaoke on Friday night! And yes, you read that correctly.

Pip Pip, Cheerio, And All That Rot

Called in sick yesterday so I could go take my Oath to the Queen and officially become a British citizen.

My mom came with me and we celebrated with lunch and wine afterwards, French of course (sorry Liz, your food sucks and you know it).

Then some vodka tonics, after which it was 3pm and I was buzzed enough to go home and take a nice nap. Damn it's good to be British.

Now excuse me while I figure out which poverty-stricken country I'm going to add to my empire while I drink scotch with my wenches.

Douche

Almost forgot about this phone call from Saturday night...


Zander: Hello?

Joe: HEEEEYYYY what's up dude!

Zander: Joe? Aren't you in Connecticut tonight?

Joe: Yeah

Zander: Uh ok. Are you coming into the city?

Joe: Nope.

Zander: Then why the hell are you calling me?

Joe: HAHAHAHAAAHAHAHAAA

Zander: I'm hanging up on you now.

Joe: HAHAHAAAHAHAHAA

*click*


Seriously dude, you owe me 16 seconds of my life back. Douche.

The Answer Is Yes

I just found myself seriously wondering "Am I Still Drunk?"

I was on my way to a meeting and just walked into a wall in front of my company's entire Editorial department, dropping my notepad and spilling my water.

Everyone was polite enough not to say anything, but there's a good chance HR will want to talk to me any day now.

While You Were Sleeping

Had a few people over to my place, per usual, to drink before heading out to Sutra where Emily had a friend DJing.

Joe shows up to my place late, also per usual, and completely plastered. Although this time it was so bad that he passed out on my couch and we took the opportunity to do mean things to him (e.g. writing "I [heart] COCK" on his sorry excuse for a bicep). He was going to join us as we were leaving, but then managed to puke before he could get out the door so we left him as is.

So Joe, this one is for you. Here's what you missed...


JESSICA ATTEMPTING TO START A FIGHT ON THE SUBWAY

Granted, we always come pretty close to crossing the line during our drunken subway rides, but Jessica yelling "BRING IT, CRACKER!" at some innocent teenagers nearby was somewhat unnecessary. Fortunately they took it in stride, and did not retaliate.


COLIN PRETENDING NOT TO KNOW US

Colin quickly regretted his choice of social circle for the evening, highlighted by his decision to stare at the floor during the entire subway ride. He wasn't fooling anyone though.

Far more convincing was his disappearing act at the bar later that night -- a.k.a. the longest cigarette break ever. It's okay dude, we don't blame you. Actually if I didn't know these people so well, I would have done the same.


NOMINATED BEST CONVERSATION, MARCH 2005

White Jay-Z Wannabe: Hi, I'm [redacted].

Jessica: So...you're kind of n!ggerish*.

WJW: Uh...

Jessica: Are you gay?

WJW: Um, no.

Jessica: Do you have a big dick?

WJW: I don't know how to answer that.

Jessica: You know. Six and three-quarters or bigger.

WJW: Uh...

Jessica: Do you fuck black people?

WJW: Well, it was nice meeting all of you...


Thanks for that, Jess.


ZANDER SLAMMING HIS HEAD INTO THE LOW CEILING AT THE BAR

Which I still don't remember. But there's a picture to prove it, horrified bystander reaction and all.


After all this and more, I come home to find Joe still passed out on my couch. Joe, I hope you read this and realize what could have been.


* Apologies for the censorship, I just don't like the idea of my blog showing up when someone googles the N word.

Quote Of The Weekend

I think this is such a great quote partially because it fulfills my love of ridiculous analogies, but I'd like to thank birthday boy Jordan for this one:

"I can't believe you guys use grapefruit juice as a mixer when you know it impairs your liver. That's like...like...having unprotected sex with a prostitute that might have AIDS. You're just asking for something bad to happen."

Fired Much?

The following prompted several coworkers to begin discussion of starting an office pool predicting when I will be terminated for inappropriate comments...


Co-worker: I love going out in New York. I just wish it wasn't so expensive.

Zander: I like that it's expensive. It keeps the less desirable elements out of my preferred drinking establishments.

Who's Farewell Is This Again?

Headed to a bar after work the other day with some co-workers to have farewell drinks for a colleague. Once someone had pointed out who this person was (give me a break, I've only worked with her for 3 years) I made the mistake of making eye contact before ordering my first drink.

Co-worker: Aww Zander, thanks for coming!

Zander: Actually I'm just here for the free drinks.

Co-worker: Oh.

Zander: No, no, I'm kidding. Sad to see you go.

Co-worker: Haha, you're so funny--

Zander: Sorry, I need to get a drink. Farewell.


Between that exchange and calling everyone I work with old (while reminding them that I am still in the prime of my youth, and asking how horrible it must feel to know that your life isn't really worth living anymore), I woke up the next morning feeling even more fortunate that I was recently accepted to business school. Always good to have that to fall back on when they fire me for being the biggest asshole ever.

Plagiarism Keeps Me Warm In The Wintertime

Every time someone forwards me this email, they ask me if I was the original author. And in my little world, where laziness and an absence of morals reign, this practically does make it my own work.

So, in the spirit of my complete lack of originality and desire to do as little as possible, I give you a classic, "Open Letter to Alcohol"...

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Dear Alcohol:

First & foremost, let me tell you that I'm a huge fan of yours. My friend, you always seem to be there when needed. The perfect post-work cocktail, a beer at the game, and you're even around in the holiday's hidden inside chocolates as you warm us when we're stuck in the midst of endless family gatherings.

However, lately I've been wondering about your intentions. While I want to believe that you have my best interests at heart, I feel that your influence has led to some unwise consequences:

1. Phone calls: While I agree with you that communication is important, I question the suggestion that any conversation of substance or necessity takes place after 2 a.m. Why would you make me call those ex-loves when I know for a fact they do not want to hear from me during the day, let alone all hours of the night?

2. Eating: Now, you know I love a good meal, but why do you suggest that I eat a taco with chili sauce, along with a big Italian meatball and some stale chips (washed down with WINE & topped off with a Kit Kat after a few cheese curls & chili cheese fries)? I'm an eclectic eater, butI think you went too far this time.

3. Clumsiness: Unless you're subtly trying to tell me that I need to do more yoga to improve my balance, I see NO need to hammer the issue home by causing me to fall down. It's completely unnecessary, and the black & blue marks that appear on my body mysteriously the next day are beyond me. Similarly, it should never take me more than 45 seconds to get the front door key into the lock.

4. Furthermore: The hangovers have GOT to stop. This is getting ridiculous. I know a little penance for our previous evening's debauchery may be in order, but the 3pm hangover immobility is completely unacceptable. My entire day is shot. I ask that, if the proper precautions are taken (water, vitamin B, bread products, aspirin) prior to going to sleep/passing out face down on the kitchen floor with a bag of popcorn, the hangover should be minimal & in no way interfere with my daily activities.

Alcohol, I have enjoyed our friendship for some years now & would like to ensure that we remain on good terms.

You've been the invoker of great stories, the provocation for much laughter, and the needed companion when I just don't know what to do with the extra money in my pockets. In order to continue this friendship, I ask that you carefully review my grievances above & address them immediately. I will look for an answer no later than Thursday 3pm (pre-happy hour) on your possible solutions & hopefully we can continue this fruitful partnership.

Thank you,

Your Biggest Fan

P.S.

THINGS THAT ARE DIFFICULT TO SAY WHEN DRUNK:
1. Innovative
2. Preliminary
3. Proliferation
4. Cinnamon

THINGS THAT ARE VERY DIFFICULT TO SAY WHEN DRUNK:
1. Specificity
2. British Constitution
3. Passive-aggressive disorder

THINGS THAT ARE DOWNRIGHT IMPOSSIBLE TO SAY WHEN DRUNK:
1. Thanks, but I don't want to have sex.
2. Nope, no more beer for me.
3. Sorry, but you're not really my type.
4. Good evening, officer. Isn't it lovely out tonight?
5. Oh, I couldn't. No one wants to hear me sing.

For The Ladies

Hey ladies, next time you're out drinking, be sure to take a few Magic Cones with you.

No more waiting in lines for the ladies room when you have this fantastic "disposable urination funnel" available in your purse, eh?

Oh and according to some people, this isn't work-safe, although I don't think anything animated counts. Maybe it's just me.


Apologies for the lack of a real post lately, between the fact that I've been boozing less, and Blogger has been sucking more, I've been slacking. We will return to our regularly scheduled programming shortly.

This Is How We Do It

Had another ridiculous night out on Saturday and realized that despite all the hilarity and fun, we have a pretty firm pattern of behavior.

So I was inspired to throw together a How To guide, in case someone out there was looking to recreate a StillDrunk evening for themselves, sans Zander. Pictures from Saturday night are included as visual aides.


Step 1: Begin drinking at home. Have at least 4 ridiculously strong drinks over the course of one hour.

Step 2: Make sure your friends drink a similar amount, even if they weigh half as much as you and haven't eaten in 2 days. (If you aren't meeting up with people until later, skip to step 6)

Step 3: Come up with corny jokes with/about your friends that you will repeat constantly throughout the night as if they were comedy gold. Keep up the repetition, even if you're sick of your own joke by 10pm.

Step 4: If you are walking, being driven, or taking public transportation to the first bar/club of the evening, prepare a "to go" drink. Hope any police officers along the way don't realize that Poland Spring isn't pink. If you are driving the car yourself, your friends are just using you and don't really care about you. And/Or you live in the suburbs. Ouch.

Step 5: Whatever your mode of transportation, act as belligerent as possible. Drivers should cut off other cars and sing along to bad music as loud as possible. If walking, tip over a few trash cans or strollers (unoccupied or otherwise). Or in our case, terrorize yuppies on the F train. Please note that if you transfer to the A train, you should still be obnoxious, but also be aware there's a good chance you will be stabbed.

Step 6: Walk into the drinking establishment like you fucking own the place. Knock over a stranger's drink. Shit, knock over a stranger. You are in da hizzy.

Step 7: Order two drinks at a time, and feel free to accuse the bartender of making them incorrectly/weak. Or if you're feeling friendly, dry hump a Mexican bus boy.

Step 8: Pretend like you're still in the privacy of your own home. And that you don't have neighbors. Yell and do inappropriate things. Maybe even mime a sex act. Or eight.

Step 9: Maybe just one more offensive gesture.

Step 10: At this point you will realize you are drunk. Your choices are a) to get moving while you are still coherent so you can order some food on the way home, or b) to embrace your drunken state and collapse into a taxi, hopefully telling him where you live before losing consciousness.

Step 11: If you still possess the ability, drunken shenanigans in your neighborhood are acceptable, and encouraged.

Step 12: I actually don't have any more, but I thought having 12 Steps would be a nice touch of irony.

It's Not Just A Bad Habit, It's A National Past Time!

Received word on Friday evening that I will officially become a British citizen on the 23rd of March.

This is truly momentous. No longer do I have to hang my head in shame when someone asks me if I'm a binge drinker. I can stand up proudly (or slouch, depending on how many I've had) and say, "No, I'm British!"


(An update is coming for Saturday night, eventually)

Gotta Love The Classics

Earlier today someone asked me if I'd ever been thrown out of a drinking establishment before, and I responded no. Then I realized I was only limiting my answer to NYC, and that I have in fact been removed from a club before.

So, since I've been a lame ass this week and need to post something here, I begin my story...

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

It was my senior year in college, and Jessica and I had finished our finals on the same day. Neither of us were leaving campus until the following day, so we said we would go out that night.

Except we were a little overzealous. In all the excitement, I declared I would drink until I couldn't see anymore, and Jessica followed that with pledging to drink until she puked. I want to say that qualifies as "foreshadowing", but really it was just us being complete idiots with an idiotic mission.

So naturally we started boozing at the house, and eventually hopped a cab to Pittsburgh's South Side. It was a random weeknight, so the bar was empty, and we just started drinking, doing a few shots. To be honest, the night seemed in danger of turning out to be a huge disappointment. Then Jessica noticed that it was some guys birthday at the other end of the bar, and bought him a shot. He was extremely grateful, and insisted that we put all of our drinks on his tab.

This is what we like to call The Beginning Of The End.


I have to admit, I wish I could recall just about anything after this point, because I'm sure hilarity ensued. Unfortunately, it's all a blur, although at some point we must have headed to this club called Have A Nice Day Cafe. (To this day I still have NO clue where this place is located.) I vaguely remember dancing with numerous strangers and drinking more, and more, and more.

At some point I decided it was time to relieve myself, and was still of sound enough mind that I should head to the bathroom. I'm smart like that, even when drunk. While standing at the urinal, I actually managed to pass out by leaning forward and resting my forehead on the wall in front of me, with my wang still hanging out of my pants. Pure class.

A passerby was kind enough to return me to a state of consciousness (I prefer to deny the more cynical argument that he just wanted to use the urinal himself) and I zipped up and headed out the door. No, I probably didn't wash my hands, get over it.

It was at this moment that my ability to say "No way, I've NEVER been kicked out of a bar, that's ridiculous" came to a crashing end. I walked out of the bathroom, and directly into a wall, face first. In front of at least two bouncers, who immediately asked me to leave the premises, and began escorting me to the exit. I attempted to defend myself by pointing out that the wall was painted black, and how could I be expected to see a black wall when it's night out, but they weren't interested.

Apparently not content to suffer my fate alone, I tapped Jessica and told her I was leaving on the way out, and the bouncers told her she had to leave too. I probably should have waited for her before I jumped in a cab and sped home, but instead left her crying angrily, yelling at the bouncers and the cashier "MY DAD IS THE DISTRICT ATTORNEY, HE WILL SUE YOUR ASSES!!!" (Sidenote: Her father is no such thing.)


And no worries, I was not the only one who accomplished their mission. Jessica spent most of the next day reliving her meals from the previous 16 hours, in technicolor. Shining moment for her was probably when she had to ask her mother to pull over on the side of the highway so she could vomit just one more time. Making our parents proud, eh?

Uh Yeah Whatever You Say

Forgive me for not posting this earlier, but I don't think you can blame me considering what used to be my brain fluid now mostly consists of Stolichnaya with a little bit of Johnny Walker thrown in. Moving on...


So Saturday night we had plans to meet Jessica and her family and friends for dinner. Conversation with my mother earlier that day...

Zander: Dinner is early, at 6:15.
Mother: Okay. And is it any special occasion for her parents?
Zander: I dunno...I guess it's their anniversary or something.

Turns out their anniversary is actually in August and this was just a random trip to New York for them. Didn't my mom look dumb when she showed up with an anniversary card and a bottle of wine for them. Which she then gave to me and said "Darling, why don't you give this to Stephanie and Harold and explain why you're so stupid." As if my hypothetical suggestion that it might be their anniversary was unreasonable considering I was totally hungover.


Proceed to dinner where Jessica and I loaded up on the margaritas and were acting like such idiots (such as musing how awesome it would be if you got your really dark-skinned black friend coupons to a tanning salon for their birthday) that my mother says "Are you two on drugs? Because if this is your normal state I feel very sorry for you."

Good to know someone does, mom!

Black History Month Karaoke

Friday night was our opportunity to gather in honor of black history -- which really meant we would be even more offensive and beligerent than usual, of course.

Top 5 Moments:

5) Jessica repeatedly yelling the names of black historical figures before, during and after every one of her performances, leading most of the people in the bar to stare at her with looks that said "Seriously, WHAT. THE. FUCK."

4) Joe passing out in the bar for an entire hour

3) My own stunning rendition of Enrique Iglesias' "Bailamos", sung entirely in a Mexican accent, while pointing at horrified audience members

2) Jessica yelling at people to watch her purse between the lyrics of "Party All The Time" by musical genius Eddie Murphy

But it was obvious that nothing would top the following:

1) Joe thinking Jessica was sitting next to him and attempting to unsnap her bra in an attempt at humor, and then realizing that the girl was not in fact Jessica, and that neither the girl or her big black boyfriend with dreads was very amused


We're not sure if we're allowed back in that bar, but if it happens, Jessica and I plan to sing an acapella version of "Wade In The Water" to make up for sins against our ancestors.

(I have pictures, but I'm currently too lazy to post them here. If you have a problem with that, you're a racist.)