WTFWJCVDD – Edition Eighteen

Blacked Out Tryst

Recently I have been drinking more. Not necessarily more often, but more quantity of consumption in a night. A couple of my friends have asked me if there is something wrong or if I was drinking more because I was unhappy. I appreciated their concerns, but brushed it off considering the fact that they were hammered when they approached me and one of them was double fisting during the “intervention”. The fact is, I am very happy and satisfied with everything in my life and I just like to get drunk.

About two weeks ago we had a real shit show. My kind and concerned alcoholic friends and I decided to go to this great German beer bar. One of my good friends bar tends there and he literally gives the bar away. They serve you 48 ounce steins of high quality German beer and he was serving them by the half dozen. After a brief pre-game, five or so or those jugs of beer, and several rounds of shots, I blacked out. The interesting thing about blacking out is that the night goes on, but you’re mind is not present. People can tell you stories of things you did and you’re in disbelief because you have no recollection. Anyway, this story was relayed to me second hand by the friends of mine who had less than twenty drinks that night.

We ended up leaving to go meet up with some girls at another bar. The name or location of the bar, I have no fucking clue. Apparently when we got there, my friend Biff (who was an acclaimed Eagle Scout) introduced the girl he dragged us all there to meet. Turns out it was questionable if she was a man or a woman, so we decided to leave them be and continue drinking. It was at this point that I felt like I needed another drink and acted on it.

As I was walking towards the bar, I guess I was too lazy or unconscious to maneuver through people so I didn’t even bother. There was a girl in front of me that I was told I could have avoided running into if I simply moved six inches to my left, but that would have involved too much work. So, apparently I pushed her out of the way. It was described to me as the scene from the movie “Old School,” where Will Ferrel’s character has a fucking dart in his neck. As the tranquilizer takes its course, Frank the Tank gets groggier and makes his way towards the kids by the pool. He carelessly throws a little kid out of the way in a drunken manner which was the comparison made of the way I pushed this poor girl out of the way by the bar.

Naturally, if someone pushes you out of their way you acknowledge that their an asshole and tell them so. So this girl turns to me and says, “Who the fuck do you think you are?!”

My response? I stare at her for a second, pick my nose, look at the booger, and then wipe it on her shirt, “thash whos’d ihim.” I got slapped in the face right? Wrong. I remember when I was a kid and my mother told me charisma would get me far in life. I guess the way I picked my nose and used this girls shirt as a Kleenex was done with charisma because Lisa Bar (that’s what she went in my phone as) and I supposedly talked for an hour after the incident.

I didn’t believe any of my friends the next day when they told me this happened. They were adamant about it and laughing, and I just wrote it off. That is, until Lisa Bar texted me later that day to ask me if I remembered her – I guess she did exist. I lied and told her of course I did and how great of a time I had with her. She said she felt the same way and wanted to hang out with me soon.

Now I’m supposed to meet this broad out next week sometime, but it’s proving to be quite the predicament considering the fact that I don’t remember what she looks like (despite all your judgmental hesitations and concern for the lack of class this girl must have to continue talking to me considering the fact that I rubbed my boogey on her, I was informed that she was indeed good-looking and that’s all that really matters). So now I have to figure out how to recognize her when we meet up. I was considering going with a sign that reads, “LISA” that I would hold up like the limo drivers do at the airport. That could backfire, but maybe I can leave that night with a new name in my phone – Lisa Sign.

Until the next Kumate…

For your consideration:
Why is it humane to euthanize a dog, but not a human?