Intoxicated.

Friday night the Scotts got a room at a bar for a joint birthday party. Scott turns 28 in about a week, and Ms. Scott turned about 30 or something a week ago. So they decided to split the difference as far as parties are concerned. Ms. Brick and I took a cab straight from work and the Ubaldos drove down from their far-away place of residence. A bunch of Scott's friends that I sort of know came, and some of Ms. Scott's friends that I don't know at all came.

The Scotts put up some $$$ for some free bar food. Me, Ubaldo, Ms. Brick, and Mrs. Ubaldo stationed ourselves right next to the buffet so we could be on top of that shit as soon as it came out. I was pleased at the inclusion of hot wings. They didn't put any ranch dressing out, but Ubaldo hooked us up by talking Spanish to the one Mexican employee. Ubaldo's Mexicanness has come in quite handy over the years.

So we pounded lots of hot wings and and ingested lots of alcohol.

There was a three hour open bar for $25. I made sure to get my money's worth. Unfortunately, white russians and Woodchuck were not part of the menu. I can understand Woodchuck not being included, but they had a lot of stuff that costs more than Kahlua up there, like Stoli, Tanqueray and Absolut. I was able to come up with plenty of gay drinks to satisfy me, though. I think it went something like this:

Southern Comfort and Coke
Captain Morgan and Coke
Bacardi and Diet Coke
Bailey's on the rocks
Bailey's on the rocks
Malibu and pineapple juice
Stoli Vanilla and cranberry juice
Absolut Citron and lemonade
Stoli Rasberry and lemonade
Stoli Strawberry and lemonade
some pink thing that Adrienne the bartender made for me

After about the third drink Adrienne and I were on a first name basis. And yeah, we have already established that I am gay. I think it's interesting that as I kept drinking my choices just kept getting gayer and gayer. When I went to take a piss after about the eight drink I decided I might as well just sit down.

I was feeling pretty good and talking to people and hugging them. I typically prefer to avoid any kind of verbal exchange with other humans, but get a few drinks in me and I become Talky McTalkerson. I talked to some of Ms. Scott's friends and one of them (I think her name was Liz) convinced me that she grew up on a farm in Ohio and they grew corn. I think she was lying. I am also pretty sure I offered to go down on Scott at some point. If I didn't, I at least reminded him how hot he is.

I should have quit drinking after the first vodka lemonade. I had a nice happy buzz going and I kept drinking. At about the time the open bar closed I hit the drunk wall and started feeling not too good. People started trying to hand me white russians but I refused them. I knew mixing milk with all that fruit juice and sugar and crap would not have been a wise decision. Don't worry, they didn't go to waste. Ubaldo and Ms. Brick took care of them.

Then I started falling asleep at the bar. Apparently this practice is frowned upon. Adrienne kept tapping me awake telling me I couldn't sleep at the bar. What the hell is wrong with sleeping at a bar? We had a semi-private room and I wasn't causing a ruckus. It didn't matter, though, because soon after I had to go to the bathroom to dispose of the hot wings.

I sent them back the way they came in.

I remember a time when I could get hammered without vomiting. One time at a family reunion four years ago I got obliterated on Woodchuck and long island iced teas, and I kept it all down. Now it seems the vomit is inevitable. Is 23 that much younger than 27? I guess so.

I was in there for quite a while and people started to notice. Ubaldo and Ms. Brick began knocking and I let them in. When he saw what I left on the toilet seat and floor, Ubaldo turned to her and said: "Uh...you can handle this." I got all emptied out and Ms. Brick wiped up most of the puke. You know someone loves you when they willingly clean up your expelled hot wing chunks. I think we had the following conversation:

Me: "I can't perform tonight, honey."
Her: "That's okay."

I managed to not get any throw-up on myself. I got cleaned up and we went back into the bar. Ubaldo told us it was time to go.

I didn't know this at the time, but apparently we were asked to leave by the bouncer. I didn't know falling asleep at the bar and then throwing up in the bathroom was grounds for removal. It's not like I was causing a ruckus or being rude or disruptive in any way. If I had thrown up on the bar and fallen asleep in the bathroom, then I would understand.

It was fun, though.

No one was in shape to drive so Ubaldo left his car and we cabbed it back to our place. Despite my inebriated state I thought to get out the air mattress for the Ubaldos. Then I threw up some more, drank some water, brushed my teeth, and passed out on the bed.

I was hoping to do some drunken blogging, but I was in no condition to do so. The drunk version of the story would have been more entertaining, I'm sure.

The next day Ubaldo realized he left his cell phone there. It was okay, because I had to drive him back to get his car anyway. We went out for breakfast and went back to the bar to get his stuff. I didn't go in, but Ubaldo said the same bouncer was there, who told him: "Hey, thanks for taking care of that last night."

Taking care of what?? Jeez, I really hate to think of the panic that place goes into when someone actually does become a disturbance.

Oh, if you were there, and you are reading this, and I actually was being an annoying jackass and you wanted me to leave, please let me know.

That's all. At breakfast we all got this turkey-egg thing, except for Ubaldo. He got this Cajun-egg thing.