I got well and truly loaded this evening, which happens very infrequently - about once every year or two. The triggering factor was a spring cleaning expedition which unearthed some artifacts from past relationships, including a bottle of wine originally intended for a wedding night.
Anyhoo, after consuming said bottle rather rapidly, I suddenly recalled the old Greek tradition made famous by Socrates and his ilk - that of getting loaded and demonstrating one’s ability to still philosophize and make sense.
I decided to see what I could do while extremely drunk. The rules are: It has to be something you can do normally, and it can’t put you or anyone else in danger.
My activities of choice:
Juggling (I used to be a professional)
Crossword puzzles (I’m pretty good at them)
Posting to the Dope (You be the judge)
Juggling : As a former pro, I’m pretty good under normal circumstances. After a bottle of wine I found I could still do many of my moves, but it took much greater concentration. And I made a lot more errors. Could still juggle five balls, but it was sloppy. Didn’t attempt any headrolls for fear of falling down.
Crosswords : I successfully completed two NY Times daily crosswords. They were from one of the “Easy Crossword Omnibus” books. But still.
Posting to the Dope : You tell me? Have I managed a coherent post?
What can you do while loaded? Please be advised - I take no responsiblity for your doing anything stupid. Read the rules stated above. I thank you.
I can write nearly grammatically perfect English (including spelling) while utterly shit bombed. This was good since I suddenly remembered a couple of papers in college and had to write them while nearly cross-eyed. They made little sense but my spelling was immaculate.
A friend of mine can dial Home Shopping Network while he is blotto, read his credit card numbers accurately and order that mens’ diamond ring with a stone the size of a boulder that was displayed on his wide screen television.
Of course, once sober and a few days later, an over-priced ring with a diamond the size of a grain of sand showed up.
I can buy futons. From a store. Me and (former doper) micilin used to work night shift, and every payday, always a Friday morning, we’d go and get steamed in the morning and go home and sleep it off for the rest of the day. Except this one day when we were walking through the city, completely blotto, at about noon, and I took it upon me to buy a futon. The experience was enhanced by my slurringly trying to bargain the price down in a non-bargaining retail environmnent, and micilin falling asleep on one of the display models. “How many pints have you had, lads?” asked the harried sales assistant, but still she took my money for a deposit, and when I sobered up I realised I had to come up with about $300 to complete the deal. That was ten years ago, and the futon is still in working order.
I can also talk shit. I’m normally quite good at talking shit, but my light really comes out from under that bushel after a few pints.
Crossword puzzles. Even difficult ones. And I can write pretty fair Palmer method script.
I have a decent sense of pitch, so I can still sing when drunk (that’s actually inaccurate to the extent that I never sing sober), but my hearing is going, and drinking exacerbates that effect (one reason I don’t drink much any more), so that ability will soon go away, and thence this thrush’s throat’s throttled.
I’m a good dart player. I was in different leagues for years. Out for laughs with friends I can still win most of the time against the average dude in a bar betting on the next round.
The college guys I beat up on last time were not amused because I was at the “chair darts” phase and still winning.
Chair darts is when you need to have a chair near the line to hold onto with one hand to keep from falling over.
I can only play darts when I’m drinking. I played on a league for several years and it was hilarious - my partners and I would always arrive early to have a few before the match started. One night we hadn’t quite “warmed up” and after my partner’s turn, I looked at her and said “Good darts, Kay, drink your beer.” That became our catchphrase for not being drunk enough to throw.
niblet head, while both of my eyes are still there, one of them doesn’t function very well - no forward vision at all, and only a slight amount of side vision. I’m like your friend - can’t throw worth a hoot sober, but get me loaded and I’ll beat your socks off!
