My Buddy Ed In Florida sends along the following:
Alcohol Warnings
Due to increasing products liability litigation, beer manufacturers have accepted the FDA's suggestion that the following warning labels be placed immediately on all beer containers:
*WARNING: Consumption of alcohol may make you think you are whispering when you are not.
*WARNING: Consumption of alcohol is a major factor in dancing like an asshole.
*WARNING: Consumption of alcohol may cause you to tell the same boring story over and over again until your friends want to SMASH YOUR HEAD IN.
* WARNING: Consumption of alcohol may cause you to thay shings like thish.
*WARNING: Consumption of alcohol may lead you to believe that ex-lovers are really dying for you to telephone them at four in the morning.
**WARNING: Consumption of alcohol may leave you wondering what the hell happened to your pants.
*WARNING: Consumption of alcohol may make you think you can logically converse with other members of the opposite sex without spitting.
WARNING: Consumption of alcohol may make you think you have mystical Kung Fu powers.
**WARNING: Consumption of alcohol may cause you to roll over in the morning and see something really scary (whose species and or name you can't remember).
WARNING: Consumption of alcohol is the leading cause of inexplicable rug burns on the forehead.
*WARNING: Consumption of alcohol may create the illusion that you are tougher, smarter and more handsome than some really, really big guy named FRANZ.
*WARNING: Consumption of alcohol may lead you to believe you are invisible.
*WARNING: Consumption of alcohol may lead you to think people are laughing WITH you.
**WARNING: Consumption of alcohol may cause an influx in the time-space continuum, whereby small (and sometimes large) gaps of time may seem to literally disappear.
WARNING: Consumption of alcohol may actually CAUSE pregnancy.
The asterisked items indicate tee shirts I acquired in my ill-spent youth.
The double asterisked items concern themselves with a war story I've never told... the Reader's Digest version of which involved me waking up next to a totally bald woman (albeit one with a gray-haired wig askew on her bald pate) who had to be at least 70 years of age and who swore up and down that we had had intimate knowledge of each other not four or five hours ago (as best as I can determine: she did NOT speak English) and wanted to repeat the experience. I declined her offer as gently as possible, and to this very day I do NOT believe I was THAT drunk. Some things are beyond the pale and that was one such.
To make matters worse I had been set up with my new-found geriatric companion in a fitting act of retribution by my so-called buddy, who also stole my clothes and left me buck-nekkid in this harridan's bed. And why did my buddy set me up? Well... basically it's because his lady friend and I got incredibly drunk together and argued about politics until the wee small hours (or until I passed out, whichever came first, or both) when she should have been doing something more enjoyable with my buddy. My bud did NOT take kindly to that and I kinda-sorta ruined his night. Ergo, retribution.
Back to the story... I managed to wrap myself in a sheet and searched the premises for my clothes... which involved going from room to room in an establishment where that sorta thang isn't normally done, most especially EARLY in the morning... but I duly discovered where my clothes had been hidden after about 20 minutes of frantic searching... assisted by my semi-clothed elderly lady friend. I then proceeded to get dressed and got the Hell out o' Dodge in that early morning hour and went searching for a restaurant with ANY sort o' greasy breakfast and a couple o' few aspirin. Or six of same, because I was sufferin' from God's Own Retribution of a hangover, one of my Top Ten Hangovers of All Time. I stumbled into a western-style hotel a few blocks from whence I came, and was VERY pleased to find their restaurant was not only open but featured "American Breakfast." So we ordered about a half gallon of coffee, breakfast, that much needed aspirin, and soon the world was MUCH brighter. As for the "western-style hotel" bit, all this happened in a country not my own, I should add. So there's that.
All o' which reminds me of a lil sumthin' I post and re-post from time to time, to wit:
More on drunkenness from an old post I put up back in March of '06:Apropos of nothing, as is my wont, of late. Quite some time ago I read Dan Jenkins’ novel “Baja Oklahoma,” which was a good tale…funny, creative and full of little folk gems. One of those gems impressed me SO much I took the trouble to transcribe the list and pin it to the wall above my desk. This, of course, was in the way-way-back. But…it’s a very relevant piece of work. Here, for your illumination/edification, are Dan Jenkins’ “Ten Stages of Drunkenness:”
1. Witty and Charming
2. Rich and Powerful
3. Benevolent
4. Clairvoyant
5. Fuck Dinner
6. Patriotic
7. Crank up the Enola Gay
8. Witty and Charming, Part II
9. Invisible
10. Bulletproof
I don’t believe I’ve ever made it to “Bulletproof.” Evidence of that fact is: I’m still alive. I have, however, been “Witty and Charming, Part II” on a few occasions and “Invisible” once or twice. The most common state I arrived at was Number Four and perhaps Five…achieved nearly every Friday night whilst I was living in SFO. Ah, nostalgia!
Truer words were never written or spoken. I usually only get to Stage Three these days. But Stage Five is not unknown...When Stage Five happens these days (which is rarely, actually) I usually take a nap and then have a late dinner. Coz dinner is important, Gentle Reader.
Isn't alcohol one of the more important food groups? Seems that enough beer or scotch consumption would help proclude intake of other lesser important foods. heh.
ReplyDelete...which involved me waking up next to a totally bald woman (albeit one with a gray-haired wig askew on her bald pate) who had to be at least 70 years of age... OOH that's just nasty! Were you tempted to chew your arm off?
ReplyDeleteIsn't alcohol one of the more important food groups?
ReplyDeleteYes. Yes, it IS.
Deb: Chew my arm off? No. I don't remember bein' all that close to her. I did consider suicide, however briefly, but that had more to do with my hangover.
I remember that list when it was posted last.
ReplyDeleteNumber Five is a regular occurrence, we call it "Saturday Evening". All time fave is #7, I love that name!
I like #7, too. That one invariably invokes another metaphor having to do with "sheets of glass." ;-)
ReplyDeleteHeh. Your buddy was pretty clever in the pranks department.
ReplyDeleteAfter spebding last Friday evening in the company of my dearest friend (who spends half the year in Hong Kong), her daughter, and my younger daughter, I should now add a new **WARNING -- Consumption of alcohol may find you on video singing songs from "Mary Poppins" in the wee hours of the morning before your friend dances into the bushes in the front yard.
Oh well. It was nice not being Designated for a change. And I knew where my clothes were in the morning.
I think there should probably be something on the list about a toilet bowl, as in hanging on to same for dear life while the rest of the room was rotating up to a furious speed like one of those G force simulators. My 30th birthday party.
ReplyDeleteAlso, I can remember saying "crank up the Enola Gay" and your metaphor about the glass when NOT drunk. Guess that tells you how sick of a person I am.
I have never woken up next to someone (or some thing) I didn't have previous knowledge of. Just lucky, I think. Between the booze and the amount of cocaine I did with it (enough to cause a herd of elephants to go into cardiac arrest, and thank you, God, for not killing me) I've reached the "bulletproof" stage a few times (but not for some 20+ years now.)
ReplyDeleteI should now add a new **WARNING -- Consumption of alcohol may find you on video singing songs from "Mary Poppins" in the wee hours of the morning before your friend dances into the bushes in the front yard.
ReplyDeleteNow THAT sounds like a party! I'm glad ya got someone to pull the DD-duty for ya, Moogie. And thanks fer yer support, re: Anon2.
Also, I can remember saying "crank up the Enola Gay" and your metaphor about the glass when NOT drunk. Guess that tells you how sick of a person I am.
Heh... I've been THERE, too. And I don't think that's sick at all.
Jim: I was never flush enough to do that nasty white powder but I hear ya.
There is but one incident in my life that went seriously awry due to ridiculous amounts of alcohol consumption. I believe I got to #8, freshman year in college; I know, go ahead and say it Buck - puppy :-).
ReplyDeleteTwas not pretty in any respect. Including the horrific vomiting in one of the guy's dorms - a guy I happened to be totally into in a freshman-in-college sorta way. He was not a gentleman, unceremoniously pointing me in the direction of my own dorm, without escorting me when I could, quite clearly, hardly stand. I have no memory of walking to my dorm nor of getting myself undressed and into the top bunk of my bed.
My roommate says she did the undressing and putting to bed; as for getting back to the dorm - well, that one is a mystery.
The hangover was epic. Truly the worst of my life - including the 30 years since then.
...a guy I happened to be totally into in a freshman-in-college sorta way.
ReplyDeleteI hope that event was the end of THAT infatuation. The guy obviously wasn't worth your time, so the event in question had a silver lining, no?
First Story. Trail Bar in Dickinson, N.D 23am circa 1963: Allow lovely lass "Montana Rose" to take me home. Leave before she wakes up in dark prior to dawn. Next pm am in said "Trail Bar" playing the pinball machines when a hand hits my shoulder like a hammer-blow and grabs it in vice-grip of AT LEAST 10,000 lbs followed by a deep, raspy, gravelly voice worthy only of a heavy smoker of 40 yrs, saying: "Hello Son!" I turn around. It's Montana Rose...(MAJOR VISIBLE SHUDDERING on my part, lo
ReplyDeleteBuck - oh yeah you are so right. The guy turned out to be a total wanker. Which allowed me to meet The Oracle - MUCH better.
ReplyDeleteSecond Story: Summer of '65. Am in Court-yard of Pat O'Brien's in New Orleans. with date and one of my college roommates and his date. In those days they had a small stand with elec. organ on in with music piped to both the Piano (tourist) bar and the locals bar across the entry-way as well as to speakers in court-yard The organist is taking a break. I seize the moment to ascend/clamber-up to the stand & instrument and start plinking merrily away (can't actually play a single musical note) Gal at table next to us leans over and says to my roomie: "Isn't that your friend making those "sounds?" Yes, said my friend too drunk to notice she was complaining, "Sounds GREAT, doesn't it? Me, sitting high up on stand viewing an "enforcer" come RUSHING out of main bar towards me full-tilt boogie after about 60 sec of my "playing." As he pulls up short at stand glaring at me, before he can speak I arch eyes & eyebrows in questioning look and say in anticipation of, and to forestall mayhem I KNOW about to commence, 2 simple words: "Get down?" Terse reply while nodding shake of head accompanied by undertone of terrible things to come if I don't: "Yeuus." LOL!!
ReplyDeleteI don't recall hiding your clothes but I do recall a certain frenzy of yours to git naked so you probably tossed them there. And I recall the scream of terror in the morning (always with a good laugh)At first I thought it was her. You also forgot to mention that she took her teeth out. You are right about the hangover though. I don't remember us ever drinking Raki after that.
ReplyDeleteYour memory and mine differ only slightly, Anon. You will note I went to GREAT lengths to conceal your identity. You're welcome. ;-)
ReplyDeleteOh. We DID drink raki after that... how could we not? Apropos o' nuthin'... I brought a bottle o' Yeni raki home to the Ol' Man and he and I killed that bottle in its entirety one evening after I got home form the wild, wild east, with a lil help from my step-mother. The Ol' Man spent a couple o' years in Ankara and loved his raki. I kinda liked it, too.
Oh, again. Gular was prolly THE most erudite courtesan I EVER met, and a worthy debating opponent. Her grasp of English and US politics amazes me to this day. You prolly have an entirely different take on THAT subject. :-)
Good times.
Virgil: Great stories!! We all have 'em, don't we?
ReplyDeleteRegarding stage #5? I used to have a buddy in one of my squadrons who always opined: "Eatin's" Cheatin'!" LOL.
ReplyDelete(PS: FWIW the "old-school" Spaniards who specialize in traditional mountain-side all-male "eating clubs" used (still) to drink olive oil straight before drinking bouts to line their stomachs/intestines and slow absorption of the alky so as to prolong the "experience.")
Virgil: Mom taught me a variation on the olive oil theme: two raw eggs, blended well and drunk raw. Served the same purpose... and it worked/works.
ReplyDeleteYour right about the Raki. I remember us deciding to stay the night in the cheapest hotel we could find, I think we paid 50 or 75 cents each. I remember eating those roasted chestnuts, not knowing how much gas they would generate. And of course your aversion to bedbugs. So here we are, in a flop house, its quiet, there's a BRRRRRAT, the light comes on and your standing in the bed lookin for bedbugs. The light goes out, its quiet, BRRRRRRRAT the light comes on, and so on. this goes on for an hour or so and finally sleep. Morning comes and I got to go to the bathroom and its down the hall. Now I'm pretty wise to the world but I'm also hungover. I go into the bathroom and hit the first thing that looks right and start the flow, lean over and pull the flusher and it sprays back. Now there's two streams flowing and I did the only thing I could think of, I called out to Buck for help. within seconds I've got two streams, half a dozen cleaning ladies, and Buck. a hysterical moment to say the least.
ReplyDelete