Saturday, March 17, 2007

thank you, sir- may i have another?

i was going to post about my attempts to reconstitute the petrified raisins i found this morning into something that wouldn't chip my teeth by adding extra water to my oatmeal and hoping they'd soak it all up, but then i noticed the date and realized i have more important things to talk about, like

a. daddy's 61st birthday, which is today and

b. the holiday at hand.

since daddy doesn't generally wander over here, i figure a passing mention is enough (besides, i'll call him and undoubtedly wake him up in about an hour.), which leaves me plenty of room to reminisce about past st. patrick's days.

actually, one in particular comes to mind.sadly, i can't quite recall whether it was my third or fourth year of college, though not for the reasons you might think.

st. patrick's day in my college town was always a big deal. i actually had friends who would select their courses for the semester based on whether or not they would be able to make it to "the world's shortest st. patrick' day parade".* i mean, heaven forbid they miss out on the yard-long "bones" full of green beer.

*i've never quite believed that claim. our parade lasted about a block, starting in front of the "world famous outback" (another somewhat dubious claim, as i have never run into anyone outside of maryville who said, "wow- you used to go to the world-famous outback? i'm soooo jealous.") and ending in front of the palms, site of kdlx's st. patrick's day festivities......and coincidentally the setting of this story. i'm sure somewhere, most likely in another small college town, someone has figured out how to drive "ms. (whatever the heck small town pagent they offer)" from one side of the street to the other, qualifying their queue as "the world's shortest st. patrick's day parade". but, hey- what do i know, right?

but i digress.....

so anyway, back to the year in question, which i'm thinking was my last year of school, because i know i was ready and willing to pull out my i.d. at the drop of a hat, and i wasn't quite legal when st. patrick's day 1999 rolled around.

that's really neither here nor there, as it wouldn't really have mattered.

a few months earlier (and i don't really recall for pretty much the reasons you'd expect, thank goodness), i found myself at a party thrown by a friend i'd known for pretty much my entire college career. at his last party, yours truly got spectacularly drunk (so they tell me) and wound up horking her guts out, though i'm not exactly sure where this happened, aside from the spare bedroom, which was pointed out to me at this second party. (i believe it was somewhere along the lines of, "and then you just rolled over on the futon and do you see that pink mark? that was you." greeeeeeeeeat.)

so, basically, to gain entry to this fiesta, i had to solemnly swear that nothing more substantial than words would come flying out of my mouth.

did i mention that i started drinking again around the time of this party? as a general rule of thumb, any time i really overindulged in college, particularly when i wound up unable to recall a large portion of the evening, i would quit drinking for an extended period. i believe i abstained for about six months between the two parties, and my return to the liquor cabinet was extremely short-lived, as at this second party i overindulged just a wee bit.**

i could recall the drive to "the world famous outback" from the party, and while i didn't have any additional beverages at the bar, i think the multiple double shots of absolut citron may have perhaps caught up to me, as i do not recall the drive back to the party afterwards.***

nor do i recall decorating the front yard with my dinner, lunch, and possibly a snack or two.
i do, however, remember waking up the next morning in an exceptionally unsettled state, perhaps because i was fully clothed (not unusual- my clothes stay on when i'm drunk), spread eagled on my floor with a frying pan in my hand....upside down.

yeah- that was an 8am call mama will not soon forget.

oh- and did i mention that the only other roommate home that weekend was not talking to me, for reasons i didn't understand? i mean, we were never bosom buddies or anything like that, but for some reason she was ultra bitchy to me, and as can often happen with females, the recipient of such bitchiness is left wondering what the heck they did to deserve such treatment.

interestingly enough, it was literally months before i found out the reason.

it seems, in addition to not recalling the drive to the party from the bar nor my skilled exterior decoration efforts afterwards, i also do not recall being loaded into someone's car, driven home, and yelling while my chauffers pounded on the door to wake up said roommate because i'd forgotten to point out before we pulled out of the party host's driveway that my house keys were in my car and my car keys were in my hand. (or pocket, or wherever i may have had them.)

never mind that i had to let my less-than sober rommates back into the house on occasion- because i had inconvenienced this particular roommate, she didn't speak to me for months.(and people wonder why i refuse to have female roommates again......go figure.)

anyway, after the frying pan incident, i quit drinking for a year, which wound up including the st. patrick's day in question.

st. patrick's day in maryville was always full of drunken debauchery, and this particular year was a slight exception only because extra dea agents were in town to cut down on underage alcohol-induced merriment. a few of the agents were in uniform, but most of them were dressed to blend in with the revelers.

as i headed back outdoors from the bar, where i'd just gotten my cup of water refilled, i was stopped by a relatively (well, perhaps if i'd been drinking something a little stronger) good looking guy who asked to see my i.d.

yep- carded for water on st. patrick's day. if there was ever any doubt that i was a wild child, that alone should clear things up.

**and the award for "understatement of the year" goes to..........

***which would be why i'm always the designated driver these days. i have not driven under the influence since that evening, and i refuse to let anyone else i know make a drive they don't remember.

1 comment:

duff said...

for the record, my sibling beat me by a whopping ten minutes.