I kinda forgot I had a blog until Google+ (new facebook-y thing that they’re piloting) automatically added the link to my profile. So, I decided to write about the disturbingly sober weekend I had last month.
A few weeks ago, my friends and I went to NY in a limo (yes, it was ballin in case you were wondering). In the midst of dancing and drinking, my one friend from Long Island fist pumped his elbow right in to my skull leaving me with a migraine for a week and a half. I work in a hospital and my athletic boss, all too familiar with concussions, advised that I not drink until the headache was gone. Otherwise, I was warned, it could be prolonged up to 3 months.
Thus, the following weekend, I did not drink. And it actually scared me how much I wanted to. I come from a long line of alcoholics. Functioning, but alcoholics nonetheless. I don’t drink during the week and usually only go out once a weekend. This particular weekend, however, I was going home to play volleyball on Friday night and it was my boyfriend’s birthday on Saturday night.
You might think that volleyball is a great way to stay sober. Not so at my dad’s house. Alcoholics, remember. Volleyball involves at least one 30 rack of bud light, no rules, usually bruises, and shots of tequila to top off the night. Being around my family necessitates the use of alcohol. A prime example of this is a direct quote from my father, “I wouldn’t put it in her ass dry.” Yes, he said that. Yes, to me, his daughter. Disturbing? Probably. But much less so when you’re drunk. My house is the stuff of reality TV. And I was painfully aware of it for 4 hours. Add to that my ex-fling’s super annoying girlfriend who felt it was necessary to let me know that she was good at blowjobs.
The next night we were celebrating my boyfriend’s birthday and he wanted to go downtown. Instead of the chill, pub atmosphere that we frequent, he chose to go to tourist/college central where you pay a cover charge to listen to a guy with a guitar cover the hits of the 90’s and there’s some guy with bad BO dressed a pirate complete with a stuffed parrot on his shoulder. Seriously. That may have made me believe in hell.
But, something happened halfway through. I decided to have fun, despite the fact that the place is only actually fun if you’re blissfully unaware of your surroundings. I danced silly to entertain the drunk people. I remembered everything everyone said. The concussionist, as we now call him, apologized and we hugged it out.
After all was said and done, I’ve decided I’m not an alcoholic. But…I sure am glad I can drink again.