Well as long as you don't go the extremes I did. I too enjoy getting hammered, though I tend to do it in public. Truth be told I'm a very insular individual. I listen a lot, and I don't talk if I can help it. If I did what I "felt" like doing all the time I'd never leave my room. But it's not a healthy feeling. So I go out to the club or the bars with one of my room-mates. I buy a scorpion bowl [six shots of six different liquors in a glass with a splash of coke or pepsi to sweeten the flavor...helps to have grenadine as one of the shots as well], which is a $6-8 drink, and since the multitude of alcohols multiplies the effect, I get friggin' hammered fast. I need this because otherwise I feel nervous, tense, almost paranoid, and certainly out of place. Once I am loosened up...that's it. The night begins. The next three to four hours pass in a blur. I make out with random girls on the dance floor, I dance with whoever the fuck is receptive to whatever drunken style of dance I select for the evening. The club eventually closes and I go home feeling like, for at least a little while, I wasn't alone.
Occasionally I come home and me and my equally-drunk room-mate decide to go on an adventure, whereupon we literally stumble a mile down the road to the nearest convenience store or pharmacy and get drunken snacks and gatorade to alleviate what will otherwise be the worst fucking hangover any human being has ever endured. Then we stumble our way back, loudly slurring insults at the sleeping individuals of our neighborhood [who never hear it anyway, apparently], often about their cars, and talking about our life choices and what we're "going to do." Then we get home, my room-mate inevitably pukes in the toilet because apparently I have a tougher liver than he does [but I have four years experience over him so...] and we pass out.
This does not happen nearly as often as it should.
If you find yourself in Madison Wisconsin, lemme know, and we'll say "fuck the negativity" over a few shots together!
Occasionally I come home and me and my equally-drunk room-mate decide to go on an adventure, whereupon we literally stumble a mile down the road to the nearest convenience store or pharmacy and get drunken snacks and gatorade to alleviate what will otherwise be the worst fucking hangover any human being has ever endured. Then we stumble our way back, loudly slurring insults at the sleeping individuals of our neighborhood [who never hear it anyway, apparently], often about their cars, and talking about our life choices and what we're "going to do." Then we get home, my room-mate inevitably pukes in the toilet because apparently I have a tougher liver than he does [but I have four years experience over him so...] and we pass out.
This does not happen nearly as often as it should.
If you find yourself in Madison Wisconsin, lemme know, and we'll say "fuck the negativity" over a few shots together!
