All About G

And craziness doesn’t even describe it.

If I told you Saturday was probably the best and worst night of last week at the same time, would it make any sense to you?

I’ll start with the good first: Saturday was Senior game for my men’s lacrosse team, in which we won with a good score of 16-3. Overall, everyone played a great game, and I was just happy for the seniors that they celebrated one of their last home games with a great win, and a conference win at that.

After the game, A few of the players were telling us ATS’ “Yea come down to Castaways! We’re celebrating! Come down!” For those of you who are unaware, Castaways is a bar here in Ithaca that’s popular for playing live music.

So me, the once-anti-social, afraid of life girl, now found myself driving down to this bar. At first I was just mingling, not really having much to say. I was kind of annoyed that I’m flat broke and couldn’t afford to drink. Luckily, one of the coaches bought me a drink. So I took advantage and got a Long Island, knowing those get me tipsy, and more outgoing, rather quickly.

After my first drink, it got a bit easier to chat with folks, so I did just that. Someone else offered to buy me another drink, and I asked for a second Long Island.

Things are pretty good at this point. I’m not drunk, but I nicely tipsy at this point and enjoying myself. Oh, right, remember that guy I was telling you about in my last blog post? Well, he and I were flirting a bit more obviously, which was all very fun. He bought me my third drink, and this time I decided to get a schnapps and sprite.

So I’m drunk at this point. We were all planning on going to Kilpatrick’s, another bar in town, and I guess first we were going to pregame (if you can pregame when already drunk) at one of the lax houses. So we did that, then went to Kilpatrick’s. I had a bit more (a bit?) more to drink, and was, for the most part, trashed when we all moved from Kilpatrick’s to the Ale House. And I suppose I was too drunk at this point because I had only done so much as go to the bathroom when one of the bouncers kicked me out of the bar.

So I can’t even see straight by now, let alone walk straight, and I drunkenly decide “Well, I guess I’ll walk home.” I kind of feel a little bad because I just left and didn’t let ANYONE know. At this point, my phone was somewhere in Castaway’s because I did the cool thing and left it there, along with my car. I’m still not entirely sure how I actually made it to the entrance of campus. But I came across a friend, who observed that I was “really drunk.” Bless his heart, he helped me up onto campus, with me rambling jumbled words the whole way, and helped me up to my Garden, where I burst into tears and cried and rambled for something like an hour.

Oh, why did I cry? Well I suppose this would be a good time to mention the worst part of it.

So, remember that guy I was telling you about in my last blog post? Yea, well, I met his girlfriend.

… Yup. The guy I was FINALLY flirting and being flirted with, the SAME night I start doing so, I find out that, even if he was interested, it’s not like anything’s ever gonna come out of it since he HAS A GIRLFRIEND.

And for a little while I was wondering if she was making it up because I had seen no indication of my crush being taken. Up until that point everything came across to me as single. And then she made it obvious that he was taken by putting some cutesy bf/gf photos on Facebook.

So I burst into tears upon arriving home and I was probably drunkenly sobbing about how “every time I start to like a guy this happens,” and how I was just overthinking everything like I always do,” and so on and so forth. I then proceeded to attempt and fail at toasting a bagel (it was black when I pulled it out), stick it in the fridge anyway, and then pass out in my bed after typing up a super trashed Facebook status:

Figures. I was amazingly wrong. Got kicked out of a bar b/c I was too drunk. My car’s at Castaways, idk where my phone is, and I’m surprised I’m made it back to my apt. Best never ever. FML.

And then the next day, I walked the hour to Castaway’s to get my car.

Yup, crazy weekend. ‘Nuff said.

Comments (0) Apr 25 2011

So last night (and ridiculously early this morning) I did “some” drinking with a friend of mine.

It didn’t end up well. I puked three times, and have felt nauseous since.

In actuality, on the rare occasions that I drink, I drink in moderation, meaning I pace myself. I try not to down as many as quickly as I can. It gets ugly real fast that way. I had that happen to me once a couple of years back. I puked on and off for hours and passed out and came back to. I woke up still drunk. It was very miserable, and I promised I’d never do that again.

Yea, so much for that.

Anyway, the group of folks I was hanging out with are self-proclaimed “rugged” folks. Rugged, in their lingo, defines, apparently, being able to down a hell of a lot of alcohol, especially the strong stuff. I’ve known this since I first met them, so maybe for me it would have been better if I had declined the offer to drink with them. Or should have been more stubborn about the way I drink, I don’t know.

As the story goes, I did start out pacing myself, like usual. But everyone kept telling me “oh come on, chug it! be rugged!’ and things of that nature. They didn’t seem to listen to me when I told them, or tried to, that I like to pace myself. See, I don’t drink to get drunk and shitfaced. That’s no fun at all. I like to drink to get just a small buzz. Just enough to be cheerful. Is that a bad thing? In some people’s eyes, I guess so.

After a while of their nagging me, I finally gave it and sped up my intake of alcohol. Eventually, I was to the point where I was half-passed out. And I didn’t black out, luckily, but I can only barely remember what happen. I definitely remember stumbling to the bathroom, twice, to heave up the contents of my stomach, before finally passing out at around 3am, if I recall.

I woke up later this morning, feeing nauseous, and I actually puked again. I was dropped off of my dorm, and I went back to bed, sleeping for the rest of the afternoon. After I woke up this evening, I finally had the courage to try eating (ginger ale and crackers – the ultimate in stomach bugs). I still feel nauseous, actually, but it’s not to the point where I feel like I’m actually gonna puke.

Now, on to the point of my post. Usually, I’m very good at resisting peer pressure to do stupid things. Unfortunately, I made the mistake of not doing so when being stubborn was probably most needed. I think, if I ever decide to party here at Ithaca again, that I’m not gonna listen to people implying that I’m wimpy just because I don’t get myself shitfaced. I think it’d probably be even better if I just saved any kind of drinking for at home, where I can drink at my own pace without have everyone get on my case about it, and where I’m around my family and best friends, whom I trust the most.

In all honesty, I really have yet to see what exactly is so great about drinking till you puke in the toilet (or all over yourself, or all over the floor, etc). I’ve only done it twice, counting this episode in my life, and there wasn’t anything “fun” about leaning on the toilet, puking while half-conscious and unable to actually say a coherent sentence. I actually hate it. So to those of you who actually like to do that kind of thing; you go ahead and keep doing that, but let me stick to my drinking till I’m cheerful policy.

Comments (1) Oct 13 2008