bar ad nauseum

November 8, 2007

Having just returned from the bar on a night I normally would not find myself at a bar, my mind has decided to remind me of a few things.  Granted, these are things that plague my mind on occasion whenever I’m in the presence of alcohol and business establishments.

First, I started going to bars during my freshman year of college. We went every Thursday night (college night) to one or two of the gay bars that were closest to my town at the time. Actually, it’s a very sad tale and somewhat historically validating to say that we had to go to another town just to find more gay people. That was the point after all: to find more gay people. To be immersed in a culture you couldn’t live on your face at all times. Well, for me, it was that. I was in an environment designed to allow me to flaunt the parts of my psyche that didn’t make it on the sleeve with all my philosophies, thoughts and emotions as I pulled on a shirt in the morning.

To go was cathartic, though completely inebriating. Granted, I never consumed alcohol there that year. I was too young, and not a rebel rouser. While my friends were busy getting thrown out of bars for underage drinking, I was busy playing DD. I actually had a carry a friend of mine out of the ladies room and into my car just so that she could call her ex-boyfriends and feign puking on the ride back. And I never danced with anyone, never talked to people outside the group I came with. Completely pointless now, if you ask me (though I’m not that much different). See, cathartic.

It was a time of my life where I needed to do that, and I got it out of my system after watching people do lines of cocaine on a dinner plate in someone’s bedroom while I meekly sipped a Skyy Vodka drink. I did venture back into bars later, but it was for glamorous and friendly reasons, not those of psychology.

My mind also wants me to remember that I am not a beer drinker. I have a great tendency to mixed drinks of most types and to wine and wine coolers and their ilk. So tonight, it was Liquid Marijuana and a French Toast shot. The first is pretty tasty, as it’s about half alcohol, half pineapple juice. The other was okay. I’ll probably never do that one again.

Lastly, it occurs to me that I’m a bit of a lightweight, and for that I’m grateful. I’ve been blessed with the ability to say no to most any inebriating substance as far as I can think. Caffeine would be my one fault, as I do love my Dr. Pepper, but that’s more cause its yummy than any high it gives me. But, honestly I don’t have much use for chemicals once I feel I am getting their affect. My body just shuts off too them. I could go into a party wanting to get totally trashed and usually only make it a couple drinks before I’m feeling I should stop. Because I have such good control over my intake, I don’t drink that much, and thus, when I do drink a lot, it hurts.

Not that I’m drunk. God, no. It’s 9.30 on a school night and I have to teach at 7.15 in the morning. Clarinet sectionals, woot!



  1. Because I hate vomit and vomiting (my own or anyone else’s) more than perhaps anything else, I don’t drink. I will partake in the occasional glass of wine or a vanilla-rum-and-root-beer, but that’s about the extent of it. The price I have to pay for the marginal enjoyment just isn’t worth it…

  2. Lines of cocaine? Damn, I’ve done nothing with my partying life.

  3. Do you know how many boobies you get to touch without slaps to the face? Your living a straight guy’s dream!(Yes I said it dammit) God only knows what else you get away with! I’m jealous! Well … sortof. It’s the free boobie touching pass you get as soon as you cross that gay line that I’m after.

    Sorry … that was off topic 😉

    Yum … Dr. Pepper. Dr. Pepper and Black Cherry Vodka is my favorite. I drink enough to feel good and then quit, so no vomiting at my shack;)

    I’ll give you my address, but I was hoping that you could mail me that free boobie touching pass? Thanks! I’d appreciate it!

    -Straight Dude.

  4. I want to touch a boobie!


    *looks down*

    I’ll be in my bunk.

  5. ….but boobies are gross…

  6. ::gasps::

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