Introducing a New Series: Drunken Diaries

So this idea came to me spontaneously a few nights ago. While we all recall drunken memories the next day, we hardly sit down at a computer to write about what's happening at that exact moment. Unless of course we are drunk texting/facebooking, which I highly advise users to avoid. Well, I decided to sit at my computer and just let my consciousness stream all over the page. This is the beginning of the new series. I won't predict how frequently this series will be updated, because that would just make it lose its magic. Here it is:

Entry #1: June, 23-24, 2009
This is the first entry on my drunk diary series. These are just as they sound. I get drunk one night, and then I write something that I’ve learned or experienced this evening.

I’ve unofficially adopted a cat. Her name is Binx. I think it’s a her. I never really checked. All I know is that she is in dire need of mental help. While Hubbs and I sat outside to eat a lovely Italian dinner complete with spaghetti and wine, the cat made several attempts to drink the wine and even made an attempt to cut herself. She kept jumping on the tray that held the bottle and then finally dove for the knife after her several failed attempts. Be careful, kitty, that’s just a butter knife. Hubbs fed her a bit of the turkey from the spaghetti while I threw a large chunk of squishy zucchini out into the road. Damn cat didn’t go after that until an hour later. Like it tastes any good now. Stupid kitty. Nevertheless, the cat kept coming back for our multiple drinks. Sweet tea vodka and some pineapple rum/V8 splash/peach schnapps concoction—which is fucking amazing and I’m still drinking—kept drawing this cat back for more. So anyway, the cat kept coming back and I decided to dub it “Binx.” That was the best fit for the jet black cat because it wouldn’t answer to “fuck off” or “kitty, kitty.” ‘Tis a shame though; if I ever had a stupid cat, its name would be Kitty Kitty. Binx is okay though—we had a conversation about childhood movies and Hocus Pocus came up. Don’t roll your eyes, you know you love that shit.
Which brings me to my next point: I’m not sure what it is, but every time I get a little/lot drunk like this, my contacts always slip and slide on my eyes like it’s a good ol’ time. Wrong. The composition of my eyes does not change when I drink rum or wine. This is unacceptable. I think I may need to write the Acuvue company with complaint. There is nothing about not handling this product while drunk. I know they will not correct my “beer goggle vision” nor my ability to drive a motor vehicle (which is okay because a sober driver or walking is always the best way to go). But damn, you would think at least these bitches could stay in my eye. It’s only 11:52 now and I’m currently looking through my left eye to keep my right eye closed for fear that the contacts will slip out.
Shit. My ability to type in the correct passwords to social networking sites is not up to par at the time. But then again, it’s not like I can see to type very well. Someone get me an eye patch! Shit, now the left contact is slipping so I can’t read the precious status updates. Oh, I have 3 new notifications. Fuck, it’s just telling me that I **might** have relatives on facebook. What a waste of my time. I’m already friends with all my cool relatives. Shit. Now I really can’t see. Time for glasses. Brb.
Damn, I really enjoy urination when drunk. Is that not the best sensation ever? Come on, you know.
Amanda Palmer sounds like a man. New artist Hubbs got me to listen to tonight. It brings about that joke about the name Amanda as the perfect cross-dresser name: A-Man-Duh! Haha I wonder if she thought of that when picking out her name. Or maybe it was just an unfortunate coincidence. Damn that word is difficult to spell.
I really hope that I can recover and make it to the gym tomorrow. Going to work should be cake, but I really want to make it to the gym. Not for rock hard abs or to sweat to death, no, no, I want to see that hella cute swim instructor I finally made contact with today in the steam room. Steam room + cute boy = danger for this girl. It’s on my top ten list of “special places.” Ha, like you don’t have one.
There’s a new nightclub in BG named “Fluid” that officially opens up on Friday. The bar is supposed to be uppity-scale for young professionals (which is right up my alley, I guess), but I can’t get over the name. Exactly what fluid are we talking here, nightclub. That’s dirty. I think I’ll stick with the bar that I bat 1000% at; it’s called Tidballs. That’s right.
Damn. I just typed a password correctly. Does that mean I’m sobering up?
No. Spell check just corrected every other word in this sentence. And there’s still about a ½ of the glass. (that was supposed to be one-third).
Oh no, a song from The Gougers (who are awesome by the way) just came on. It may entice me to get all sentimental or deep. Which may really only be about as deep as this glass that sits beside me. Maybe that’s a deep statement in itself to call such a shallow object the bottom of my depth. I have no idea what that means. I’ll take a sip.
You know, I know that I should stop drinking. Hell, it’s Wednesday and I still have to report for work at 8 a.m. tomorrow. It’s only 12:12 now, so that’s not terrible. I don’t wake up until 7:15 anyway. But still, there’s a small portion of concoction left in my glass and I must finish it. Waste not, want not, right?
Woah, dizzy.
One last sip. Dammit, I can’t get it in one sip. One more.
Yes, I’ve accomplished my final task for the night. Well, now that it’s 12:15 maybe that’s my accomplishment for Thursday. If that’s my accomplishment then maybe I should call in to work. It would go something like this:
Me: “I’m sorry, I won’t make it in today.”
Boss: “Oh, are you sick?”
Me: “No, I’ve accomplished everything I need to accomplish for today.”
Boss: “But you haven’t even come in to the office today.”
Me: “Well, no, but I’m awesome.”
Boss: “No need for explanation. That is common knowledge.”
Ha, right. I’m not that drunk. We all know that wouldn’t ever work. As far as being awesome… Well, that really is common knowledge..

Until next entry, I am (for now) yours,

Drunk as hell Hillary J H