Drinking and Dying

Is it possible to need two days to recover from a hangover? My stomach and head have still been giving me grief all day- although the headache could be from staring at a computer screen for 8 hours straight...the stomach, meh, my stomach always hurts.

The thing is, I didn't even do anything that crazy that would MERIT a two-day recovery period. I drank beer. Just BEER. Sure, there were a few cups fulls, but c'mon, I can't even drink plain old beer without paying for it the next day?? What kind of rip-off is that?

It's especially infuriating when I see both real people and the television people (or television people on shows on Netflix on Demand that I've never seen before, and therefore, am not cheating on my television embargo) being able to guzzle beer whenever and however, and seemingly recover instantaneously. The only time I was remotely able to do that was in college, and that was because my liver was still pretty show-room new and I was hanging out with foreigners who taught me to drink like a cross country runner instead of a sprinter.

Now, it seems I have a glass of wine and my stomach and head are messed up all the next day. I am whining I know, I'll try to stop.

In case you couldn't tell, I had no idea what to write about tonight but I'd like to try and write for all four days. Unfortunately for you, the reader, it could make for some tedious reading. Lemme see if I can drudge up some good embarrassment for you...oh I got it.

Don't you hate it when someone holds the door for you when you don't want them to? We have to entrances to my office: the main one and the side one. The side one is the one I always go thru b/c it's closest to my desk. But sometimes if someone is walking ahead of me back to the office they will hold the door for me thru the main entrance. I usually just comply, even after I try and show them that I have my access card AND that I'm going the other way.

Well, the other day I was in a precarious situation- I had a guy from my office in front of me walking to the door and two guys behind me. As I'm sure you already know, I like to be as invisible at work as possible (or at least until I know for sure I am liked). The guy ahead opened the door and held it for me, thinking I was going in that way. I fumbled again for access key and muttered something like "I...uhh, I've...got...ma..key".

I thought he understood my signals and so I was just letting the door closed. Suddenly the guys behind me (who are notoriously sarcastic but cool) yelled, "Hey! What're you doin, not holding the door for us?"

The guy who had been in front simply said, "I was holding it for her," as I quickly ducked down the long hallway. When I heard him alluding to me, I was still just as flustered, just louder.

"OH! I've...got..my...this...I'm...good. Th-th-thanks, s-s-sorry!"

It was another one of those great moments where it probably wasn't a big deal, but internally I was tightening the noose. Oh well.

Hope that got a chuckle from ya. See ya tomorrow!

Weekend Wrap-up Part 2: Dude, Where're My Car Keys?

Brrr Greetings chilly-ones. It's been a long and crazy week, so let's get right to the continuation of the Weekend Wrap-up from last last weekend (grab a snack, it's a bit of a long one)...

So when we last visited, I had just gotten home with beer and wine after nearly breaking my neck in the snow and ice. Joe's and my friends had arrived already, so when I came home the boys retreated to the basement and my girlfriend and I cracked open a beer.

Though the weather was starting to get brisk we decided to go shoot some pool at the Rec Room, a sports bar nearby in Towson. We drove up, parked, and ordered a round before hitting the tables. After a few games I took a brief bathroom break and when I returned I noticed Car where I left her, by the electronic jukebox, with a few guys talking to her. As I approached I caught a glimpse of the guys and they didn't look much older than 17. Even in my current state, I was suspicious.

I sidled up between him and Car, turning my back to give him the idea to scram. Instead he muttered, "I wanna watch you guys play."

Car and I exchanged glances before saying, "We don't like people to watch us," but he still leaned on the barstool. Finally, I said, "you can watch us from over there..." Finally they got the hint and in the blink of an eye they all had evaporated. Almost too quickly so.

In any event, when they had gone I decided I wanted to play more songs so I stumbled over to the ATM. Now this has no real bearing on the story, but it might be an amusing little anecdote- or at least another example of my painful stupidity (and who am I to spare you that enjoyment?). As I take out my $20 bill, I noticed directly to my right a change machine. In my inebriated mind, I figured...change! I can break my $20 right here! It wasn't until I saw the bill slip through my fingers and into the change machine that I suddenly realized what I was doing- as if the film suddenly went from slo-mo to realtime..nnnnnnoooooo! All I could do was just stand there, waiting for my $20 worth of quarters to spill in my hand and pretend I actually meant to do it.

Anyway, as I struggled heavy-handed back to our table I was about to relay my mistake to Car, but I stopped.

"My wallet's gone," she said. The seriousness in her voice and face brought everything back into focus (well, mostly, anyway). We first checked all around the floor, then all around the bar. Pretty soon every bartender and manager was helping us look for the missing wallet. However it wasn't long before Car realized it wouldn't be found here.

"Those guys took it," she said definitively. I settled the tab while she went out to grab one of the cops that usually hang out by the movie theater. When I rejoined her she was even more distraught. With anger (and alcohol) pumping through my veins I tried to collect my words and ask another officer.

"Sccuz...um. Scuuze me. Ma frreiendzz wallet was stolen." Not surprisingly, he said, "What?"

I took a deep breath and tried again," My friend's wallet was stolen." He then asked Car questions and along with another officer we walked about, looking for the same guys who had bothered us in the bar. Suddenly Car said she spotted them walk into the Subway. The two officers told us to meet them back by the movie theater. Unfortunately when they returned they said that the boys didn't have it on them anymore. Most likely they took whatever cash and tossed the wallet somewhere else.

While Car went to make a police report I checked a few garbage cans to see if I could happen to spot it. I was disappointed and just as I was about to tell her, she had a big grin on her face.

"Apparently, someone just got tazed," she said. As we tried to casually walk by and see the victim on the ground, we felt our spirits lift a tad. Still, it was time to go home now.

By then I was sober and just ready to get home. We walked back to my car and as Car waited patiently for me to fish my keys out of my bag, I realized they were gone. Shit shit shit. I've only had this car for two weeks, and already I lost my first set. More worrisome, they were the dealership's keys- complete with description of the car.

I ran back to the bar, hoping maybe I had just dropped them somewhere. When I came in, one of the bartenders recognized me.

"We're still looking for that wallet," he said.

"Oh, good, but I'm actually looking for my keys now."

"Oh wow, it's really not your guys' night, huh?"

Keyless, I returned to my car and Car called her husband to give us a lift home. I pathetically told Joe the situation, but thankfully he was a hero (with AAA). They were able to pop open my car and I managed to get it home before any hooligans got to it.

Car and I toasted our mutual shitty-luck with another couple of beers. It may not be a totally happy ending, but it at least makes for an entertaining story.

Weekend Wrap-up Part 1: The Quest for Beer

Had a slightly adventuresome weekend. Let me break it down...

On Saturday Joe was having some friends of his over to discuss his latest project, and one of those guys was bringing his wife along to keep me company. After going into clean-up mode in the rest of the house Joe tended to his man cave while I decided to make a trek for some wine and beer for everyone.

Now as I think I've mentioned before (and in case you couldn't already tell) I really hate the winter and for a number of reasons; one of the biggest being that I hate to not be able to walk to the places near us because it's too cold or too icy. I get so sick and tired of being cooped up or relying on driving so much when the places I need to get to are only 5 minutes away. One of those places is the liquor store.

I stepped outside that afternoon to test the air. It was cold but thankfully the wind wasn't blowing so I bundled up, plugged my headphones into my iPod, and grabbed my black grocery bag as I headed out the door.

I got about halfway there when I realized I had just grabbed my debit card and not my ID. Though we really do live pretty close I didn't want to bother turning around to go get something I might not even need, so I kept going. Besides, it would be getting dark soon enough.

I crossed York Road and walked into the store. A kindly middle-aged woman came around and asked if I needed anything. After I told her what beer I'd like she carried it over to the counter for me.

"I'm going to try to make this easy for you since we saw that you walked here," she said smiling and with a slight Southern drawl.

I thanked her but showed her I came prepared with my own shopping bag. She was just placing the second 12-pack inside when she said, "Just gonna need to see some ID, sweetheart."

Ugh, crap. I chuckled loudly to myself and admitted to her that I had accidentally left it at the house.

"How old ahre you?" she asked seriously.

"25..no I mean 26!" I blurted out, but it was too late. She cocked her head to the side and with the sweetest tone said, "Ah, I'm sorry, but I caain't sell it. I am so sorry." I assured her I understood and walked out empty-handed, cursing myself. Freaking nervous teenagers who don't prep themselves before they try to buy beer and are carded would've answered better than I did, and I AM of age.

I got home and told Joe the story but said I would go back out and try again. I did so and went back to the same liquor store. The woman was gone but instead a guy that had just walked in hopped the counter and waited on me. He did, of course, card me, but at least this time I was prepared.

After I got home I reached into my backseat to grab the brown paper bag (which must have been made of glorified brown spray-painted crepe paper) and it ripped all the way down. Damn damn damn.

I then had to balance a 12 pack of beer and two bottles of wine on a icy sidewalk tight rope. I made it all the way home and figured my night wouldn't be any more eventful than that. I was, of course, sorely mistaken...Part 2 tomorrow.

No Rest for the Bleary

I hate drunk-sleep. Drunk-sleep is in fact not sleep at all. It's more like your body just instantly shuts down. You aren't performing any normal internal body functions, you aren't resting. You are just unplugged. And man was I feeling it today.

I went out last night (hence the missing post) to lift a friend's spirit. Now, I realize it was in the middle of the week, but I normally tell myself it's ok, provided I keep it easy and keep chugging water. I did neither of these things, therefore I was paying for it all day today, including right now.

And this was really the day I wanted to be on my A game. Today was the day I was going back to the Broadcast Institute of Maryland to give them my first check and sign some preliminary papers. But I'll get to that.

I woke up with the feeling of hammers being chucked inside my head. I tried to pull myself out of bed, threw some breakfast down my throat and set off for work. My commute is usually about 15-20 minutes. For some reason today my mind wandered so far and so wide that at moments when I came back around to consciousness I realized I was STILL in my car. It felt like I had been sitting and driving for hours. Plus, it didn't help that there was freaking accident on a major side-road, causing a huge back-up.

I finally get in and all I want to do is lay my head down some more but anytime I found some peace I'd be scared away by someone. In one instance I had my head in my hand leaning it on a pipe in the stairwell when I suddenly heard someone open the door loudly, causing me to jump and continue walking. Even in the bathroom, as I was washing my hands I drifted over to the wall only to hear the door's security buttons beep, reawakening me and sending me on my way. I couldn't catch a break.

Then it looked like my boss was going to skip the day, allowing me to sneak out a little early to go home for a nap before my meeting. It was 11:12 and still no sign of him. Then suddenly, just as I had talked myself into the plan, he came strolling in. F word.

So I waited till the end of the day and realized I had to go home anyway to get my checkbook. I sit in the drive-home traffic, get home to put on some more makeup, and then get back in the car. According to Google Maps, the place should be 12 minutes away, but this being Baltimore, it ended up taking me over 20 minutes- causing me to be late for my appointment; and if there is anything I have been drilled about in the radio biz, it's the importance of being on time.

I finally see the place and park on a residential side road. As I'm walking in I noticed a boy of about 9 or 10 standing outside a store. I keep my eyes down and then I hear, "hello." Just like that. Not intonation otherwise. At first I play it like I didn't hear him. Again, I hear, "hello." I look up and realize his eyes are crossed but that his head is pointed towards me. Trying to be polite and not totally creeped out (btw I'm VERY sorry if this is offensive and I know he's probably a nice kid and his problems are not his fault), I say hello back.

"Watch what I can do." Again, no real intonation and again I sort of play it like I didn't hear him.

"Watch what I can do," he said again.

"Oh, I'm sorry but I really have to go," and keep walking. Now anyone who knows me should know already that I'm usually a nice person, but when it gets dark and I'm in an area I don't really know I like to be Unassuming Sally. Even though he was just a kid I still didn't really feel the desire to be playful. I am tired, nervous, and hungover. So go play somewhere else, Petey.

Anyway, things turned out about even at the Institute. I'll relay more info about it next week. Till then, I'm avoidin' the booze and hittin' the snooze.

The Maine Event

Holy crap, I completely missed my centennial! Can't believe it's been 100 posts. What the hell have I been talking about all this time? Hopefully something entertaining.

Anyway, I'm on a tight time-restriction. Joe's on his way home from the studio and he insisted that since I used the excuse that I was too tired to watch x-Files last night, I couldn't use it again. I've therefore been ordered to write in the blog right now so we can watch an episode when he gets home.

So what to talk about? Well, I hate to keep beating a dead horse with this whole weddings and marriage thing, but Beck had a good suggestion for tonight's post. I was at work, hardly working, when I decided to check my email. Low and behold I had almost 13 new messages, all from the same 5 cousins. Apparently Beck had sent out a mass message to all of us asking what we were going to wear to our cousin Graham's wedding (which is taking place next weekend).

You ever see My Big Fat Greek Wedding? I know they are Greek, but when it comes to family matters, Greek and Irish are quite similar, especially when it comes to big events. Among the girls in the family, the question always comes around to, "what are you going to wear?" However, since I pretty much cashed in my femininity check a looong time ago, I was satisfied with just reading what everyone else was saying. (Seriously, I looked at pics of me at my cousin Kristen and Evan's wedding. Why I had opted for the pink, puffy, short dress, (at 25) I'll never know. Even my younger cousins looked more elegant than me, while I looked as awkward as a hippo in a tutu.)

In any event, Beck mentioned I should describe some of our family's past weddings as tonight's blog, but since time is a factor I shall relay my memories of the first wedding I really recall, a.k.a. Why I Don't Drink Midori Sours Anymore. Enjoy.

The first wedding I really recall was my cousin Rachel's. Hers was pretty momentous, as she was the first of all the cousins to make that big adult step, so we were thrilled. What was even more exciting was that she and her now husband Chris decided to do a destination wedding in Maine, a favorite family vacation spot for all of us. Linds and I joined Hill and her boyfriend in his car for the drive up, where we were given a full lesson on early Police songs. We all booked rooms in the same hotel in Portland, so we felt as if the hotel was all ours. Unfortunately there was some maintenance being done in some areas, so besides the occasional wall stain and odd buckets here and there, it was very charming.

Months earlier all the Dempsey sisters were a buzz with phone calls and long discussions on the beach consisting of who was wearing what to the wedding. So when the day finally arrived we were all running around each other's rooms, borrowing these earrings or that perfume (again, like My Big Fat Greek Wedding). This was also very momentous because this would be the first social gathering with my family in which I'd casually (and carefully) have a drink or two. But since we didn't want to piss the caterers off, we snuck a few small beverages in our hotel room after the ceremony. I was still a rookie in the drinking game, so I told my sister's boyfriend that I wanted something "easy". He brought out some Sour Watermelon Pucker, which we mixed with handy dandy Sprite. It tasted awesome, actually...in a super-sugary-yank-your-teeth-outta-your-head kinda way.

Anyway with our Pucker buzz goin we hit the reception. Everyone was dancing and laughing, having a wonderful time. At some point a waiter asked us what we'd like to drink. I'm pretty sure Beck and I exchanged glances. What were we supposed to say? We wanted something, but didn't want to suggest the wrong thing. We asked just for something sweet, at which point he brought us these Ecto-cooler neon Kermit green drinks. We took a sip and were relieved that it tasted similar to our Pucker drinks. We paraded around the reception feeling like such big shots, although I'm pretty sure we were deservedly mocked by our relatives.

The next day I felt like a hammer was being chucked out of my head from the inside. I stumbled over to the bathroom and noticed my face creased with makeup and my eyes bloodshot. I didn't recognize her at first, but I had just been introduced to Hungover Me. I felt the sickening sweetness of watermelon in the back of my throat and wanted to vomit. It was then that I vowed never to drink Midori Sours again.

We wished Rachel good luck with her future, sending off one of our own. And as I sat in the back of my sister's boyfriend's car, listening to "Canary in a Coalmine" for the 11th time that trip, I reflected on how quickly time goes by. If there ever was a moment when you can physically point to and say you've officially grown-up, marriage must surely be it. It was strange to see a direct cousin of ours make it to that particular moment. I could barely comprehend it, although what did I know? I was still a teenager, nursing my very first hangover, and vowing never to do something so stupid again. I stuck to that promise too...for a few years anyway.

My Dewy Decimated System

Happy Monday fellow grumblers. Yeh, another weekend has gone by, and while I am always sad at the conclusion of a Sunday, I'm sure my liver is happy to have the week (for the most part) off.

But before I get into that, let me give a shout to my #1 fan, my big sis in the Big Apple, Hill (Brooklyn say WHUUUT!, ugh God, am I white...and square. Put me in a plastic sleeve and call me Saltine). Ok enough of the corny metaphors.

So when I last checked in, I was having a pretty miserable Friday. But Joe, being the good guy that he is, became determined to put a smile on my sullen face and insisted we go out to dinner. I really wasn't sure it was a good idea financially, but we agreed that since I spent some cash on beer and wine for the house, he was fine with getting dinner.

Oh, I should mention at this point that the biggest highlight of the weekend was the long-anticipated trip to the Maryland Wine Fest. I had purchased tickets a week ago, excited at the prospect of doing something big as both a farewell to summer and welcoming in fall. Plus my fremp Les told me she and her boyfriend had gone before and said it was excellent. Double bonus: the winery that both they and our friends, one of our go-to couples, proclaimed had some of the best wine they'd ever tasted was going to be there (a rare appearance). So I knew I was going to have to save up my drinking points over the course of the weekend in order to really indulge in the winefest.

Let's say the average person has about 100 points of drinking in them before they start to get into the negatives and feel like total garbage. Well, I've got a crap tolerance so let's cut that in half. I had 50 to last me all weekend. Let's see how I did.

Friday- I had one small glass of wine at the house and then we walked to the restaurant where we each sipped another bigger glass. I never finished it completely, so we'll say 15 points.

2 glasses of wine: 15 points.

Points remaining: 35 points.

Saturday- This was the day of my friend's surprise birthday party. I knew it was going to be tough to hang with this hard-drinking crowd, but I convinced myself I would take it easy. Suddenly, before I know it I am pulled towards the Flip-Cup table, do a kick-ass job (thank you very much, it WAS my game in college after all) and after sacrificing my seat am escorted to the ice luge. Now, this was an experience in college I never had, but after I took a shot of Peach Schnapps down the ice block, I didn't mind it. Probably because the schnapps tasted just like candy syrup. Of course, it wasn't as friendly. Soon I had drank another cup of beer and before I knew it I was in front of the luge again. No problem, I thought, just gimme another peach shot. I looked up at what they were about to pour down the ice slot.

"Hey, that's not schnapps!" I said, loudly.

"Sure it is," the pourer replied, "it's just in it's raw form."

Before I knew to turn my head and walk away I placed my lips at the base of the ice and a cold shot of Yagermeister and Peach Schnapps surged down my gullet. I coughed and wheezed, as easily 20 points of my drinking went right down my throat. For the sake of argument, we'll count all three beers as 10 points.

2-3 beers and small shot of Peach Schnapps: 10 points.

1 shot of Peach Schnapps/Yagermeister: 20 points

Points remaining: 5 points

Sunday- At last, Wine Fest day. And boy did I feel like crap. I barely managed to get myself up in the morning. When we finally did I was famished, having not eaten any dinner the night before. You know that kind of hunger where you just feel sick? That was me. And to top it off we had the idea of visiting the local Indian food buffet to fill up before the fest. Problem was they didn't open till 11 and Joe suggested we just wait it out. I mean, since it WAS already nearly 10 o'clock. So we walked around Towson, while I struggled to keep down the battery acid churning around in my stomach. At last we walked back, and still the Open sign remained unlit. I was getting extra ornery when Joe called and a woman answered, saying they'd open in 10 mins. At last I was able to eat, but because my stomach was so off I couldn't enjoy it completely.

Finally, it came time to get to the festival. I tried to power nap for a half hour before rising and forcing myself to shine. We stopped at the gas station, where a hot coffee (that magical elixir) managed to quell my stomach a bit more. We arrived at our friend's apartment complex, loaded their cooler and things into my car and set off.

When we arrived my strategy was simple- water. Water, water, food, water, water. I must've sucked back a couple gallons of water. I also sucked down a few glasses of wine as well. Though I have to admit we were smart about it. While we sampled a few new places, there were only a few as good as the winery we specifically came to taste. I stayed smart by remembering that I like sweet, and not dry, wines, so after trying a few I stuck with what I liked.

You will also recall I had only about 5 points remaining before I was all-out sick. Thankfully I balanced that line like a tight-rope walker, taking a sip from my wine glass and then a big chug from my water bottle.

And today? Well, let's just say today at work there was a spread for lunch that consisted of crab cakes, tortellini and chicken, and crab dip, and while I enjoyed it, my stomach was still punishing me for those last remaining bitter points.

Oh well, I have another whole week to build my points up. How did your weekend stack up?

Female-Fists-of-Fury Friday

Holy hell, what a freaking weekend. Here's what happened...

Friday- Since we got Georgia I'm on the mailing list for the SPCA so I occasionally get emails about fundraising events. One that I really wanted to attend was called "Wine & Wag" in which people bring their dogs and while they nosh on biscuits and treats, we humans get to sample beer, wine, and little hors d'ouerves (sp?).

However, due to the crap-tastic weather we've been having it was rescheduled. They also mentioned that another event called "The Yappy Hour" was taking place at a wine shop in historic Ellicott City, where it would the same sort of thing. Because I was unable to make it to the Wine & Wag (b/c of conflicting schedules) I figured I'd head out for the Yappy Hour.

Things were going pretty smoothly. Though Georgia was still pretty hesitant around all the other dogs, she WAS showing interest. But one dog was paying a little bit too much attention to her, at least in Georgia's mind. It was this little puggle (ironically, the same dog we had originally been looking for) that, when it realized Georgia wasn't going to play with him began loudly barking at her. Georgia, usually timid and shy about barkers, tried to maneuver away from it but when she couldn't she started barking back. (And not only barking, but showing her teeth) I was trying to casually sip my latest wine taste and suddenly had to scoop her up to calm her down.

When things settled I plopped her back down and she rewarded my efforts by taking a nice big dump right by the micro brews. I suddenly panicked, realizing we hadn't remember to bring any plastic bags. Thankfully someone took pity on us, the amateur dog-owners, and handed over a bag to pick up her poop. It was a little hard to regain the moment of sophistication when one hand is holding a dry red and the other a wet brown...

After that we were due to meet up with our friends back at our place, where the drinking continued. This went from destination to destination, till finally, at the end of the night, we came back to the house to finish out the night. The two other girls decided to go for a cigarette run and suggested I come along, with the dog.

As we made our way to the nearest 7-11, I waited outside with Georgia, trying like hell not to stumble and give away my current state. The girls came back out and muttered something about getting in a fight. Before I had the chance to ask them what they meant, this group of young 20-somethings poked their heads, one of them shouting insults at us. One of the girls with us reciprocated, while me and the other tried to pull her along. They explained that one of the 20-something college girls was being disrespectful to the cashier and our friend, acknowledging this, rightfully decided to stand up for the guy. When the college girl made it known she didn't appreciate the comment to her, words were exchanged. After retelling the story, they realized they forgot the cigarettes and went back in, where the other girls finally emerged and began apologizing to me about their friend. Being drunk, and terrified of confrontation, I excused them and told them to just go. As they made their way to the corner I was rejoined by MY girls, who couldn't resist messing with these little girls one more time, smacking the one biotch's butt and then tore off, leaving the other group to hold back their friend who wanted nothing more than to get her hands on our friend.

As we walked back, we started started falling apart laughing, while I kept muttering "oh my God, oh my God,". It was the closest I have ever been to a girl-girl fight since I was a little kid. I was amazed at the gumption of my companions, and slightly jealous as well. I tried to convince myself it was because of the dog that I didn't join their cause, but I think we all knew the truth. When we got back to the boys and we began explaining the story, the girls high-fived proudly.

The truth is, I've always wondered, if the shit REALLY hit the fan, would I do anything? If words were no longer an option, and someone was trying to attack a friend, would I have the balls to drop everything (including *gasp*, manners!) and join in for a good ol' fight? I'm a bit disappointed in myself. I mean, I could have at least been like, "that's right bitches! You're gonna take your medicine!" Guys always talk about getting and giving ass whoopings...maybe that's not a terrible thing for a girl to experience either (from another girl). Oh well, guess I'll have to test my female fists of fury another time...unless I happen to have the dog with me again..

Ok, so that was part one of my weird-ass weekend. Tomorrow- we skip hungover Saturday conclude with Sunday...