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This shot taken, as best I can remember, in one of the stalls at Alley Katz. (I know, I am a walking cliché.) The three different versions of same (rendered via Picasa because I still don’t know Photoshop or whatever it is the cool kids are using these daze) are intended to reflect the double- & triple-vision I would experience later that night, as well as to highlight what, once I was sober, I found most amusing about it: that I seemed to resemble the zombie on my shirt (band T for the much-beloved and missed Alabama Thunderpussy).
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Earlier tonight I was complaining that my husband was going out to a show tonight (Hatebreed /Halo of Locusts), but I wasn’t. Not his fault, since I’d known about it for awhile and could have arranged childcare in advance, but I spaced it.
Here, by the way, is the poster for the show I’m missing. (Like you care, right?)
(Also, if all this seems incredibly excessive, please understand that I am extremely sexually frustrated right now. Certainly, there are worse ways I could be coping with this problem than by blogging about some drunken evening last month, right?)
So to cope with my irritation, I finally went through the photos (from my crappy camera phone and Jeff’s slightly less crappy cameral phone) from the last night I did get to go out. Since I don’t do that terribly often, I tend to make up for lost time when I do; that is to say, I might get completely snookered.
That particular evening (August 16th/early AM of 17th), I had my phone handy and, with it, sent a variety of inebriated messages to Twitter (you can follow me here, but note warning about my posts being not always funny, and never for the faint of heart). So here’s the story, as best I can reconstruct it:
- Commence project “Banish Cramps By Any & All Means Necessary” so I can catch the RPG show @ Alley Katz tonight. Overnight childcare, people!
- Also: predominantly left-sided abdominal cramps (when I no longer have a left ovary or fallopian tube) kinda freaks me out. Related: Vicodin
- Tampon in at slightly wrong angle; also wearing high heels. Physical comedy FTW!
- Cute, portly drunk chick seated on pavement hugging cute, skinny drunk chick not *yet* seated on pavement. Pass the popcorn.
- Sign in bar says “No Fighting, No Tagging.” First thought: “Flickr.” Second thought: “I should tweet that.” Third thought: “OMFG I’m a nerd”
- Hopefully tomorrow I’ll be able to reconstruct how I ended up in a discussion of lingerie catalogs and website statistics with RPG’s drummer
- Holy… duck I’m frunk.
- Show’s over. If the room could stop spinning now that would be totally awesome.
This, by the way, was RPG’s set list from that night. That’s Mike Marunde’s foot in the picture.
(It should surprise no one that the song that was ringing most clearly in my head, both that night and all the next day, was Alcohol, which can be heard at the band’s myspace page here.)
Finally there were the reflective tweets of the following morning:
- When you find yourself justifying that you’re not *too* trashed since you can still control the direction of your vomit, you’re too trashed.
- “Rashad! I haven’t seen you in ages!” I said, throwing my arms around him. “I’m not Rashad, but thanks!” he replied, with a big smile. D’OH. [Note: See also "The expanded truth about this anecdote" on my Tumblelog.]
- It’d be just awesome if today’s accomplishments end up including things besides “napped,” “tweeted,” & “kept down Excedrin and ginger ale.”
As I continued to repair from my hangover, I noticed a post from Jay Hathaway, aka @strutting. He no longer follows me on Twitter, but had seen at least one of my tweets that evening, as it had appeared on Favrd.
His post? “I’m flotally tabbergasted that “duckin frunk” made it onto Favrd.”
Well, I dimly thought, excuuuuse me!
Sadly, I was indeed so drunk at the time that it never occurred to me that my spoonerism of “holy… duck I’m frunk” was anything but original. If I’d heard anyone use it before, it was buried deep in my the snookered recesses of memory. Oh, inebriated hubris!
So I replied thusly:
- @strutting: In my defense, 1) I really was that drunk, & 2) This hangover should be considered more than enough punishment.
Thumbnails from the photos appear below; the full photoset (such as it is) appears here.
