In some ways I’m glad I can’t get into serious drinking like I used to. An occasional glass of wine at bedtime is one thing. Getting shitfaced and waking up on one’s best friend’s front porch- or in a motel room bathtub- is quite another.
I remember the last time I was butt drunk. I woke up in a bathtub filled with freezing cold water, with a half-eaten Domino’s pizza on the ledge, in one of the Campbell House Motel’s rooms. The year was 1992. I was 23. It’s been a very long time. I don’t miss binge drinking one bit.
I was able to score an actual pic of Jerry’s actual black eye. Why he let me take a pic of that is beyond me, but perhaps he wants the lesson to stick for a day or two.
That’s going to look really wicked once it turns green and all that. I offered him the use of my concealer, but the white- and it needs to be pale white- that I use to cover up the dark circles under my eyes is probably too white for him.
Last night I almost felt sorry for him. In retrospect I probably should have dragged him to the ER to get checked out as he likely gave himself a concussion as well as a black eye, but I didn’t have the $100 copay. He was coherent and breathing when I got home last night, so there’s probably no permanent damage, except maybe to his dignity. The lesson here is that binge drinking and maintaining one’s dignity are mutually exclusive.
So when he was snoring away I wasn’t going to bother him. I turned on History Channel and proceeded to watch a fascinating episode of Modern Marvels- Corpse Tech. I was really getting into all the stuff that can be done with dead people, like tissue donation and all that when the dogs started going nuts. Damn, I thought, who in the hell is out front pestering me. So I look out the door to see my sister-in-law. Great. Just when I thought I was going to have a quiet, relaxing evening.
She demanded to know where Jerry was. I simply said he was in bed sick which wasn’t exactly lying. Then she asked, “Sick how?”
I explained that he had hit his head the night before and was resting. She didn’t buy that for a minute, and barged right on in.
“Sick, my ass! The stupid shit got drunk and fell again, right?”
Well, she is his sister after all. So I let her wake him up, which she did, first to give him hell about his drunken stupidity, and then to inform him that she needed her car fixed because her boyfriend hit some foreigner’s aged Nissan in the WalMart parking lot.
Take me away now, ’cause I’m hearing banjos again.
I ended up taking both her and her boyfriend home so they could leave the car. It was probably a good thing they left the car. It wasn’t wrecked badly- just some minor front-end damage, but the coolant reservoir was cracked and it could have overheated and then a little bit of front-end damage would have turned into front-end damage and a blown engine. The sad part about her car is that it only has about 5,000 miles on it. She was pretty pissed off when she got to my house, although getting to see her little brother looking like someone had beat the hell out of him helped improve her mood quite a bit. I bet she was every bit as sadistic as my oldest sister as a child.
My quiet evening turned into high drama yet again, and I missed the rest of the Corpse Tech episode. Damn. At least I made it home in time for World’s Dumbest.