I’ve Drunk Up All My Happiness

Now, here it comes. Nope. I’m mistaken. Sorry. Please, do stop the car though, when I tell you – it will happen any minute, I swear.

It all started with a bottle of wine. Make that two. Three. And four. Three people: two, a beast and a woman who can drink that beast under the table any time, any drink and the odd man out, me, who could drink a beer and get buzzed. Give it two to three hours. We did. Drink fast, jump around and dance when the song comes on. Laugh and joke. Blackout. Pee. Enter the room hearing pandemonium. Wonder why someone is acting like a duck, “Quack, quack, quack” on their cell phone. It must be some inside joke that I missed when my ureters leaked into my bladder, which pressed upon my urethra to leave my insides – fast! Impress with “just one more glass.”

I remember leaving, but not totally. This car is going too fast. Where are we and where are we going. Damn you, pothead. I’ve started to moan that I’m wasted, why can’t we take me home and stop searching for dime bags. And damn you throw up, come out – we’ll both feel better for your departure. Fuck. Can’t you get high on someone else’s time! No wonder we’ve driving around for an hour searching for this 13 year old dealer. Why can’t you find the right gas station to meet. Oh, dude stop the car! Flipper! I kneel over, take my Polo shirt and Hanes undershirt off in order to not get any splattering throw up on my them. Damn, no go! Ugh, I’m sooo drunk! I’m not drinking this much again or ever, oohhh!

Ewwww! Dude, look at it. C’mon, it’s all purple. Whoa, there’s the rice, and the chicken, the broccoli. Remind me never to eat Chinese buffet before drinking heavily! I’ve blamed MSG ever since.