The Brown Bottle Blues

Everyone needs to loosen up now and then and when I choose to, I like to have people over for a few drinks. It’s never just a few. But being the host isn’t all that it’s cracked up to be. Sure it has its advantages but you’re going to have the ying to its’ yang. Last Fourth of July, I wanted to relax at home and have a few. While I left the house, the neighbors were having their own little party and invited me over. I declined-at first. Sometime during the night, and after having a few in me, I took them up on the invite and made my way over. It was really my first time ever talking to these people. I have seen them in passing, giving friendly hello’s and waves, but never a full fledged conversation.

That night is a blur. I remember little things here and there. I stuck my face into a sparkler, called people (one of those people being work), and sent many texts. I don’t recall what I said to anyone. I ended up on my bed that following morning. A pile of vomit was spread across the floor and the clothes I was wearing were covered in the same foul human projectile. I always say that I will never drink if I work the next day. That rule has slipped. I’ll drink, usually having two of three. But never the amount I had that night. Heck, I don’t even know how much I had. But I woke up on time for work. I felt horrible. I was pretty worthless that day.

Is that something we think about before we drink the night away? While were kicking back bottles and slamming shots, do we ever for one second think to ourselves, I love feeling like shit in the morning. Let’s get hammered. I am usually the one who thinks ahead on everything. Like this very post. As I write this, I wonder how my mother is going to react. Is she going to be shaking her head in disbelief? Will she question me later, asking why I drink? But all her questions and her disbelief’s are washed away when she says four little words, You’re a big boy.

1) The Mess:

The worst part of being a host of a party is cleaning up. The night does usually start off with people being good. They toss the empty bottles in the trash can or if you’re Earth friendly, the recycle bin. As the night gets later and the guests get wilder, the bottles begin to accumulate all over. Bottle caps become weapons of choice. You’ll be cleaning those up all morning. Then four months down the road, you’ll find some that you missed. You’ll have spills that drunken [censored] try to clean up but they only make it worse. Not only do you have a giant wet spot on the carpet, you’ll have a roll of paper towels scrunched up in a ball somewhere in the same room.

Sure the mess in the photo isn’t epic compared to many other parties but it’s just an example of what a host has to deal with the next      morning. Clean up was easy. I’ve had some pretty wild parties in my day. But as I get older and not much wiser, those days are long gone.

2) Guests:

I have one rule to hosting a party. No one under the age of 21 allowed. I rather not take my chances if unexpected guests in blue, carrying nightsticks walk on in. Surprisingly, I was at a party once where this did happen. I was over 21, so I wasn’t worried. Anyway, the police showed up and questioned some people about their ages. Of course, they lied and the police didn’t buy it. That was it. They left but before they left, one turned around and said, “you might want to light some incense. We can smell it outside the door.” That was a pretty close call. Why they didn’t call in the paddy wagons is beyond me. Aside from age, I like to have small parties. At max, 8 people is a good number. Anymore and I take the chance of pissing off Carlos. Let me know if you’re bringing someone else along. I don’t have a large apartment and stuffing people up in it, is a fire hazard. Not to mention, crowded and an all around headache.

3) Puking: I always have a bottle in hand. As the night carries on, I find myself sitting on the bathroom floor, pleading with the toilet and to God to just let me die. I am wise enough to know when I need to puke. A few times I have had friends vomit all over my floor. And an FYI to everyone. Jell-o shots do not come out of carpet. I’ve tried. Eff that girl. I blame her for keeping me from getting my deposit back. So I am in the bathroom hunched over the porcelain god. This carries on for sometime. I’ve never timed myself as to how long I spend in there but I’ve been told it’s hours. I’ll crawl out, lie on the floor and then crawl back in to empty the poison from my stomach once more. I usually have a wingman helping me out. “There, there.” They will say. I am never drinking again. Really. I mean it this time. No more.

4) The Next Morning:

We’ve all had a hangover. It’s not fun. I don’t get them often and when I do, I feel lazy. I’ll wake up and look at the mess. Eff that. I’ll clean up later. So I step outside for a quick smoke. Even smoking has a gross out factor. How much did I smoke last night? Cause taking that morning smoke after a night of partying, you feel as if you smoked pack after pack all night. Beer is really the culpret in all of this. I’ve had many nghts where I drank rum and have woken up feeling fine. Not always but a majority of the time, rum doesn’t effect me. I’ll finally motivate myself to clean up the mess. I’m tried, hungover, and really just want to sit and not do a darn thing. Aside from the headache, I’m also treated to a bowel movement that reminds me not to drink. I don’t know what worse. The puking or the ED.

I guess what I am saying it, drinking sucks. I don’t know anything good that ever comes out of it. The first few beers are relaxing but after that, everything goes south. Guess I am getting to old for this partying thing. Crap gets expensive. Not only the beer but what can come out of drinking the beer. Stupid decisions and bad choices. But I know myself. Next weekend or the one following that, I’ll repeat this all over again. Curse me for being weak.