Monday, May 22, 2006

I Totally Fell

It’s not often that I write about my personal life on the ol’ blog. In fact, you’re more likely to see a chupacabra butt-fucking Bigfoot on the side of the extraterrestrial highway than to read anything about my personal life on this blog. If I wanted people to ask me how my day was when I got home from work, I’d get married, let my wife’s sister move in, and beat the shit out of both of them for asking stupid questions every night.

Anyway, over the weekend I did what many uninformed people would consider pathetic. I, however, strive for greatness in everything I do; so I was quite proud when I got so drunk, I fell down and hurt myself.

Let me just preface this by saying I barely remember anything that happened. I remember doing my absolute best to drink enough alcohol to black out a blue whale, and I remember mental snapshots of what it looked like to fall over while being drunk enough to make Ted Kennedy look like a straight-edge kid.

Thankfully, a buddy of mine was there to try and help me stand up. I mean, I think he was. I guess I can’t really be sure. For all I know it could have been a raccoon. I must again state that I was drunk enough to have the belligerent balls to challenge an entire country to a fight—I’m talking to you, Venezuela.

The point is, I like to drink. And I damn near outdid myself over the weekend. Of course, by “outdid” I mean nearly killed myself. It began with Steel Reserve and ended with the better part of a sixty-four-ounce bottle of Early Times whiskey. I don’t say it often, but, dude, I kick ass.

At what point did I realize I was too drunk to smoke a cigarette and stand at the same time? About the same time I hit the ground and nearly broke every bone on the right side of my body. I’m not even joking when I say the entire right side of my body is black and blue. This includes the side of my head, which, very possibly, was quite concussed the night in question. I could have had a car battery attached to my left nut, shocking the hell out of me, and I still wouldn’t have been able to stay awake. Fuck, I was practically embalmed.

I wasn’t the only casualty of excessive drinking that night. When I fell, I broke a chair. From what I remember, it was pretty funny. I certainly remember laughing. I think my friend tried several times to help me off the ground before finally succeeding. I can’t be sure, though. I’m lucky I remember my own name.

Writing this (Editor’s Note: 5-21-06), I’m still pretty drunk. I look like Dante’s hell, left-over, frozen, thawed, and microwaved. Do I regret it? Fuck, no! I only wish I would have been sober enough to use my breathalyzer to see just how drunk I was. I think I would have short-circuited the damn thing.

It’s rare that I get that drunk even though I drink all the time, and I’m quite proud of it. Even though I’m in pain—everything from my ankle to my earlobe is cut and scabby—I’m pretty proud of myself. I know I only fell over, even though it looks more like I ran, jumped, and then slid on the ground for twenty feet. “Achieving greatness in drinking” is probably what my tombstone will say. Then again, I’ll probably just be cremated. God knows I won’t have a difficult time burning.


Willow said...

Morb as you edge ever closer to the grave (it's a toss-up whether it'll be from smoking or drinking), I have only one bit of wisdom to impart... baggy pants and stilettos make for a lethal combination.

badgerbob said...

Morb, there is an outside chance that you may have been helped up,by a scruffy badger friend of mine. Just in case, you should look for tooth impressions on your neck. Sometimes a drink of whiskey fouled blood is as good as a drink of whiskey itself.
Also, you mentioned..." If I wanted people to ask me how my day was when I got home from work, I’d get married, let my wife’s sister move in, and beat the shit out of both of them for asking stupid questions every night"...
If theres any chance of this happening, I would be interested in negotiating for the TV rights, and a chance to market this with the folks at The Lifetime Network.
Best of luck on a speedy recovery. (Or relapse, should you go that route.)

NewYorkMoments said...

I was once a sorority girl in the Badger State. I admire you.

morbid misanthrope said...

willow -- I may be edging closer to the grave, but at least I'm being responsible: I've already picked out an urn for my ashes. Well, not so much as picked out as rinsed out an old whiskey bottle. That's almost recycling. Thanks for the tip, but I don't have the legs for stilettos--and if you meant stiletto knife, I'm more of a butterfly knife guy.

badgerbob -- It could very well have been your badger friend. I don't know if I have any badger teeth marks on me, but I have a bruise that kind of looks like a prairie dog.

I think drunken spousal abuse would make a great TV show. Unfortunately, on the Lifetime Network the guy usually gets castrated or killed in the end. I think in order to relapse you have to first make an effort to quit.

newyorkmoments -- Sorority girl, eh? I thought about joining a frat, but I was too busy studying and didn't care for how paddle crazy all the guys seemed. Plus, in the end, they said I was too much of a drunk to join...pussies.

Willow said...

You'll know if it's a badger who came to your aid, Morb, because they pride themselves on leaving mementos behind, and it's inevitably their dirty, usually torn, always stained, foul-smelling undershorts.

If after you were helped back up, they were on your head, then you've been helped by a badger.

Polyman2 said...

Dude How goes it?
Besides falling down stinking drunk,
it's great to see you can
still laugh about it.
"A drunks mans' words are
a sober mans' thoughts."

Take care of yourself.

NewYorkMoments said...

You don't seem gay enough to be a fratboy.

morbid misanthrope said...

willow -- Thankfully, if I really was helped by a badger, they didn't leave any soiled undergarments behind. I did notice, however, that someone took all of the cigarette butts out of the ash tray, and, well, licked it clean. It must have been a badger with a death wish or Joe Camel.

polyman2 -- All is as well as a pissed off misanthrope like myself would ever care to admit. More importantly, though, how are you?

Interesting quote. I've always been the type to speak my mind regardless of sobriety or intoxication. Some people (i.e., most people) are put off by this, but at least when I drink I don't get any meaner.

newyorkmoments -- Not nearly gay enough, newyorkmoments; quite the contrary. My astounding heterosexuality shocks and amazes people on a regular basis. I can ruin everyone's fun at a gay pride parade just by showing up. When the press arrives and asks participants what happened, they say, "This guy showed up, and was just so heterosexual he offended us and made us feel insecure in our homosexuality."

All of this without dating or screwing random women for sport. No, my heterosexuality is just an intrinsic force. I was simply born this way. Again, thank you for noticing.

Cherry! said...

Sounds like you had a fab night!

I agree with Willow. Baggy pants and stillettos nearly killed me once when I tripped over in between cars in peak hour traffic. I wasn't drunk at the time but to celebrate my humilation I was after.

neko said...

i've never been drunk in the entirety of my existence.

scrutinising your post renders me dazed and confused: how much LIFE have i missed through abstinence?

silly me.

thank you for doing your part to guide, where the government-spawned education system has failed so dismally.

i'd marry you. but, i hit back.

jungle jane said...

It sounds like a top night out. we should go party sometime - i am sure we can hammer both the right and the left side of your body.

morbid misanthrope said...

Cherry! -- I don't know that it was "fab," well, it might be considered as such, but if I ever use that word, I'll have to kick my own ass. I would say, however, the evening was riddled with temerity.

neko -- I once met an interesting fellow down by the beach. He smelled terrible; he was unshaven, scruffy, and barely able to stand. He approached me, huffing a bag of glue--or silver paint, I couldn't tell--and began to speak.

"Listen to me, for I am wise beyond my years. (huff-huff). I have seen into the voids of all dimensions and beyond the concept of gods and prophets. (huff-huff). Follow me and..."

It was about this time he nearly caught his beard on fire lighting a cigarette. My point: I'm hardly a role model, but at least I'm not a chemical-huffing hobo.

Women hitting back; isn't that what gender equality is all about?

jungle jane -- Interesting night: quite. Interesting night out: no. I rarely go out to drink. There's just something so much more bohemian about drinking heavily in a dark room by myself. Perhaps bohemian isn't the word, but all the other words that come to mind do well to go beyond self-deprecating.

neko said...

the bottom-line: id like to have some fun before i die. but, i dont think i need to become a chemical-huffing hobo to do it.

im not looking for a "role-model". i burned my barbie in a ritualistic sacrifice quite a few aeons ago. i mean, who hasnt?

maybe i dont know what im looking for. but, the journey to bliss should be one hell of a ride.

some genders are, in fact, more equal than others.

i dont know if thats a good thing.

Cherry! said...

Yeah, I don't think the word fab goes down too well if you aren't a woman or a gay man.

morbid misanthrope said...

neko -- It shouldn't be that hard to have at least a bit of fun before you die; that is, unless you're planning on dying in the near future.

Whenever I want to have a little fun, I read a good book. They also have these things called crossword puzzles that are quite a hoot. If all else fails, a bottle of whiskey and an Ernest movie marathon usually does the trick.

When you say some genders are more equal than others, are you referring to the fact that I can beat up 97% of the women I see on the street?

cherry! -- Yeah, really. Fab is pretty gay; everyone knows real men say faboo.

Cherry! said...

Morbid - I am trying to reply to your comment that you left on my blog. It seems, however, that the powers that be are anally probing me at the mo'. Whatever. I don't mind the anal probe. Keep on truckin'.

NewYorkMoments said...

OH MM! You're so freaking hetero that....that...shit, I don't think I can say it on public television.

no one said...

Morbid, I won't marry you, but I would be your mistress on the side. That's my dream in life, eh?

Oh and I don't hit back, I would do something worse.

I'd hide the whiskey.

Yours is a pretty good drunk story. But honestly, it seems like you got drunk to the point where you couldn't live up to your true funny drunk potential. Did you take your pants off in public? Or sing "we are family? I got all my sisters with me?" whilest playing pool with the guys? ah well. maybe someday moderation will be more fun. You're still young. =o)

Love you Morb.

neko said..., poor dear deluded morb..'s okay if you totally fall every so often..

..your perpetual drunken state practically demands it..

..but it has left your reality altered..

what im trying to say is, gender is a matter of perception. the voices in my head assure me that the 97% u speak of relates to the amount of damage done to both your brain and liver, due to excessive alcohol consumption:

beating up little girls doesn't count!

drunkbh said...

I have horrible balance. I can be walking normally and trip over my own feet. However, when I'm drunk, I seem to have impeccable balance. I may not be able to utter a complete sentence but I could walk a tightrope when I'm trashed. I need to take up your lifestyle and stay trashed all the time.

Maybe we could start our own carnival act. I could be walking the tightrope while you shoot your flamethrower.

Polyman2 said...

Hey morb,
how's it going?
Hope you ain't falling down

no one said...

Morb, I've had four shots of rum. Come rum with me!


morbid misanthrope said...

cherry! -- Are they the powers that be, or are the gotdamn grey aliens at the anal probing again? They always say aliens are so fucking advanced, but how advanced can they be if all they care about is anal probing. In my opinion, any group/society so fascinated and amazed by anal anything can't be that advanced.

newyorkmoments – Thank you for acknowledging my awe-inspiring heterosexuality. Honestly, though, how could you not?

Wax lion – I’m not really looking for a mistress; you could be my drinking buddy, though. Never can have too many of them. It seems like they die every time they try to go shot-for-shot with me.

I suppose I’m not really a funny drunk. Unless I get so drunk I fall down, I act about the same loaded as I do sober. I’m pretty much opposed to nudity of all kinds, so I never take my pants off in public. And while I like Sister Sledge as much as the next death-metal head, I’ve yet to get so drunk I sing “We are Family”; I’m more of a “Ladies’ Night” kinda guy.

neko – Hey! I’m not deluded. I’m the most un-deluded person I’ve ever met. Just ask Shanks, my devoted, invisible ally.

When you say “gender is a matter of perception,” are you referring to what you see when you look betwixt a person’s legs? Because that’s gender—or sex if you’ve ever had a college sociology class. Same-dif in my book.

You have voices in your head and you think I’m damaged? Organs or otherwise, that’s just silly. Isn’t it, Shanks? Good boy! Play dead. Fetch. Discuss Machiavelli….Good devoted, invisible friend.

By the by: it takes a real man to beat up little girls. Who else would have the stomach for it?

Drunkbh – Since I’m practically a ninja, I have tons of balance. Drunk or not, I can usually back-flip over even the most camouflaged caltrops.

I like the tightrope/flamethrower idea, but I’m a bit too modest for that. Perhaps I could kill something while you drunkenly walk the tightrope. Obviously I would be drinking as well.

Staying trashed all the time is a lot more difficult than you might think. It takes a lot of dedication, a willingness to die at a ridiculously young age, and, fuck, don’t even ask me how I get to work every day.

polyman2 – Good to hear from you. I trust all is well. I haven’t fallen down since the incident I wrote about. I did, however, tip a drink lady in Las Vegas ten dollars for a triple scotch on the rocks. Some might say I tipped her a bit too much, but, gotdamn, that was good scotch.

Wax lion – I can’t remember the last time I turned down free alcohol. That might be because I was too drunk to remember, or because I never have turned down a free drink. You bring the rum and I’ll bring my sparkling personality. I must warn you in advance: I’m winning with this arrangement.

neko said...

aye, perhaps you are the only REAL MAN left..

well, you and Shanks..

*wait a minute..*

morbid misanthrope said...

I thank you, and Shanks thanks you.

no one said...

I'll be your drinking buddy. That sounds like fun. I may not be able to keep up with you, but I'll be able to help keep you up!

morbid misanthrope said...

Drinking buddy isn't as glamorous a title as it seems. It usually involves drinking heavily, watching shitty movies, playing Mortal Kombat, and complaining about the fucking wonky control when you lose. The night usually ends in puking or blacking out. I am usually able to accomplish this on my own; however, sometimes there will be someone else least I think someone else is around.

honkeie2 said...

Drunks always have the best stories....I have a few but nothing like you or my navy bro in law. I was once a witness to his drunkness.....I was in the car with him once in a parking lot and he got into an argument with his reflection in the suv next to us. He thought it was someother dude giving him the eye. I love drunks lol.