Drinkin’ Buddies

Editor's note: Sorry about the huge length of this post but I didn't want to break up the continuity of my story.

Dan Lawlor's DUI arrest got me thinking about a very important subject that any self-respecting semi-alcoholic like me should worry about and that's your "Drinking Buddies." Since it's been dead lately sports-wise and there's very little to discuss I thought I'd tell you a personal story that will open a window into the retarded life I live. No, I'm not turning this place into MySpace or anything stupid like that, I just like to pass on some of the mistakes I made so that I may educate as well as entertain.

Let me start by defining what constitutes 'drinking buddies.' They aren't simply the people you drink with, they are the group you regularly get shit-faced with that are always there when someone says "Hey, let's head to [insert local bar here] tonight, I'm ready to get drunk." The guys you can always count on when Friday rolls around and it's time to start the bar tour. There's an unspoken code of silence between you and your 'drinking buddies', confidentiality is of the utmost importance. It takes special people to handle such responsibilities.

Let me give you some background info to keep things in perspective: I've worked at the same company for roughly 7 years and up until a couple years ago had the same drinking buddies. Last weekend marked a very sad day in my life because the last of my drinking buddies has officially moved out of the area leaving me alone and sober. Life sucks. But I digress.

My buddies and I were to drinking what the League of Justice was to superheroes: we managed some great things together.

Like this but with less hangovers, although it’s rumored Aquaman knew how to tie one on

Two of them were what I like to call the Dynamic Duo. Both were friends long before they knew me and both have Zen-like offsetting personalities (my blogging cohort SDIAB is one of the dynamic duo). SDIAB is a Type-A extravert with an ear-piercing, shrill laugh that can be heard for several miles. It's part of his charm. Both of the Dynamic Duo have lightning quick wit and combined are nearly unflappable. While I'm a smartass in my own right, I never challenge the two as a team because they would destroy me. SDIAB is an HR professional and Dynamic Duo #2 is in sales so both have wonderful interpersonal skills which make them easy to like. SDIAB is also a pervert (you know you are) and can make a woman blush with the best of them. The third member of our group is the Omega-male that SDIAB mercilessly picks on. He's a smallish man with a lazy eye and foul mouth but would give you the shirt off his back. He's the king of obnoxious one-liners that he throws at women when he gets drunk. He is what I call a "Whimmer."

A Whimmer is a necessary member of any drinking group – he's the one that walks into your office at 3 o'clock on a Tuesday afternoon and says 'let's go have a beer after work' on a whim. He served a dual purpose in the group because he was the alcoholic that made the rest of our alcoholism seem less raging. He's the only one still left in the area but he moved on to another job. Even though he's around I still don't do a lot with him because you can't make detailed plans with a Whimmer, they always have a reason why they can't make it- kids, wife, dog, whatever. I still get together with the Whimmer every now and then but it's not the same without the rest of the buddies. SDIAB and the Whimmer left the company for a better job, while the other two are still with the company but have moved to different states for better positions.

Last but not least is the token woman in the group. While she was an outsider to the group, she was still an important member that usually came out later when everyone was drunk. Having a female as part of your group is important because they usually tow along other females that make for interesting drunk conversations. We'll call her Ethel because that was her nickname that she hid from us for seven years before I recently found out. Ethel was the last one of the group to leave and my story occurs on the night everyone at work got together to say goodbye.

I hatched a brilliant plan to get Ethel completely plowed for her going away present because that's what drinkin' buddies do for one another. I planned on taking her to all the local stops before the night was through which meant I had to drive. While Ethel can handle her beer quite well, she gets silly drunk on shots of Jagermeister. Ethel will never drink shots alone which meant that every shot I bought for her I had to buy one for myself, which posed a problem – I didn't feel like getting a DUI. So my Frankenstein-esque (plot foreshadowing) plan went as follows – I give her a shot on the hour, every hour and nurse a couple beers. I'm 180 lbs. and have a seasoned liver which meant my body could easily handle a shot an hour, but Ethel is a small girl and can't handle that pace. For the first four hours my plan went off without a hitch; Ethel was drinking beer and begrudgingly accepting shots from me (and a couple others). My first mistake was not anticipating my fellow coworkers following my lead and buying her shots of their own. Most of my coworkers are wet blankets who don't drink but there were enough of them to spoil the plan. I also failed to realize how quickly I pushed Ethel down the wrong side of the drunken bell curve. The drunk sensation strictly adheres to a bell curve of inebriation. Allow me to illustrate.

Maintaining the optimal level of drunkenness is difficult at best. All too often the wrong side of that curve hits you very fast as was the case with Ethel. Most of the party had broken up and only the drinkers were left when we decided to move on. I could tell Ethel was past the point I wanted her at because she was getting loud and repeating stories – classic signs of a serious drunk. When I told her I was taking her to the next bar she argued that I shouldn't drive because, after all, if she was drunk I must have been. As evidence I pulled out my bill and showed her that I had drank 4 shots and 2 beers over four hours which meant my body had metabolized the four shots and I basically had 2 beers in me. Have you ever tried to do math with a drunk? It's like arguing with an automated answering service at a credit card company – you may be 100% right but nothin's getting through. But I did win the argument and we were off.

The second, and what would turn out to be the last, stop on Ethel's farewell tour was a small bar that had a live band playing. Much to my chagrin we got a table directly in front of the band even though the place was packed. I can say with some certainty that the place was well over capacity because I could not see people on the other side of the bar even when I stood up, it was packed. Ethel now perturbed with the lack of music began yelling "PLAY SOMETHING!!" which was particularly funny because the band was setting up; I mean the drummer was literally carrying the drums through the door. She repeated this several times over the next 15 minutes as the band warmed up. "Come on, PLAY SOMETHING," she would yell.

The band was just about ready to play when the drummer decided he better hit the head before beginning his set. "Come on, where the Hell are you going?" cried Ethel, "you got a beer bottle, piss in it and PLAY SOMETHING!" It was at this point I realized that I was indeed Dr. Frankenstein and the perfect plan that I painstakingly concocted was very quickly spiraling out of control and the monster I created was about to start destroying the villagers. One of the guitarists asked me if we were together (I was sitting next to her) and informed me that I needed to control her. I calmly explained that even if I had been with her there was no way in Hell I was going to be able to control her.

At the end of the first couple songs the lead singer asked if there were any requests. "Play something not gay," was Ethel's reply. Taking the roll of damage control, one of my coworkers explained that it was her birthday although it actually is three months away. The 'birthday card 'always goes over well with people and I have to give my compatriot a hearty 'atta boy' for playing it. People seem to forgive obnoxious behavior for birthdays although I'm not sure why. The band then played "Happy Birthday" complete with her nickname after I informed them of it. This seemed to slightly embarrass Ethel and quieted her down for the moment.

As the night went on, Ethel was floating around the bar like a misguided social butterfly with vertigo. My fellow coworkers and I were getting quite the laugh at her expense and she wasn't doing anything too bad so all was good. My next mistake was one that I will never forget. In walked a gaggle of very young, very nubile, very hot women. Picking out the best looking one of the group I leaned over to one of my coworkers, pointed her out, and said jokingly "do you think an old man like me can still get a hot young chick like that?" I'm not delusional enough to believe that at 33 I can bag a hot 22 year old – who am I kidding, I couldn't bag a hot 22 year old when I was 22 years old. Unfortunately for me, Ethel was now sitting next to me and heard my comments. Even worse, without telling me, she took it upon herself to try and get me laid because… all together now… that's was drinking buddies do for one another. The monster had now turned on its creator.

I stood up and headed to the bar for my next drink. Flagging down the bartender proved difficult because the place was packed. After finally receiving my beverage of choice I turned around and was stopped in my tracks. What I saw absolutely terrified me and sent ice through my veins. The previous Hottie was now sitting in my seat because Ethel had grabbed her. Now you have to understand Ethel - she's a very polite, professional person when she's sober but she tends to get bouts of Tourette Syndrome when she's drunk. It was loud with the band and I was out of earshot but it was confirmed that she pointed me out to the girl and said "He thinks you're a fucking smoking Hottie," which I never said but it's what Ethel heard. I'm not sure what else was said in the conversation but I guarantee it was blunt and to the point like "Do you want to fuck him?" Frozen like a deer in headlights I stood there in no man's land waiting to get slapped or worse. After a couple more words the Hottie stood up, walked by me without looking at me or saying a word. I wanted to grab her and apologize but she looked very annoyed and I figured the damage was done. I sat down looking straight ahead and said "I don't want to know." Ethel looked at me with a drunken retarded smile and said unconvincingly "she likes you," and started to laugh.

Keep in mind that it's a scientifically proven fact that hot women travel in packs probably for protection from drunk slobs. Without a doubt, the Hottie proceeded to march over to the other 6 or 8 Hotties and tell them to avoid me because I was looking to get some. Someday down the road I'll be sitting in a bar and a group of girls will walk in and start pointing and laughing at me, I know my luck.

I could have cut my losses and left at that point but NOOOOO, I'm a glutton for humiliation. Ethel was floating around the bar and attempts to keep tabs on her proved fruitless. I was afraid. After standing up to get my next beer and returning to my table, Ethel sat down beside me and said "I found one of my friends across the bar. I pointed you out to her and she thinks you're hot. She said she'll fuck you." I said "thanks," chugged my beer and ran out of the bar with my tail between my legs as fast as I could. Ethel's boyfriend was there so she was his responsibility now. I know what you are thinking… you're in Galen, why did you leave? As drunk as Ethel was her "friend" was probably a femininely dressed gay guy. In fact the next day Ethel couldn't remember who it was and said none of her friends were in the bar, I shudder to think what gargoyle she lined up for me. It was rumored that, by the end of the night, Ethel was singing with the band – I regret not staying long enough to see that but it was time for me to cut my losses. Let this be a lesson for you: you can't predict your drinkin' buddies' behavior when they're drunk so for the love of God, make sure you're not sober when all Hell breaks loose.

Editor's note part II: Yes I do have a girlfriend and yes she does read this blog, but she trusts me completely which will make obtaining a mistress very easy down the road. Maybe even a young Hottie, but probably not.