Monday, July 28, 2008

Keeping up with the Joneses

I exhibited the sort of grievous error in judgement that I would expect from a twenty-year-old, and it happened on Saturday night. This past Saturday night to be exact. This past Saturday night in 2008 when I am well on my way to being thirty-one and supposed to be an "adult."

I attempted to out-drink my sister in law and I failed. Miserably.

To be fair, it did not begin as an attempt to out-drink my sister in law. It began as "Ooohhh! Yummy margaritas!" and ended with "Wow. Their toilet is really clean from this angle. That's impressive."

The backstory to this event goes back to New Years Eve of this year when I unwittingly out-drank my new sister in law. Out-drank as in, I was fine the next day, and she had a nice visit with the toilet in the cabin we were staying at. Unwittingly as in I didn't realize we were in competition until she told me, "Emily, my mistake was trying to keep up with you. Not many women can out drink me, and I was trying to match you drink for drink."

If you have met my sister in law, the absurdity of her trying to out drink me would be apparent. She's taller than I am, at about 5'7", but she weighs maybe 115 lbs. I'm shorter, but I have many (many) more curves in which to store excess alcohol. Besides, I have my rich Italian heritage to fall back on. (Then again, she's German...I should have considered that. Shoot.)

Which brings us to Saturday night. I went over to my little brother's house for some dinner. I had had a rough (read: traumatic) Saturday volunteering and really just wanted to relax and forget the day had happened. While dinner was cooking, my brother mixed me a drink that had four shots and some diet Pepsi in it. Why on EARTH I did not decline that drink is beyond me. (but I did feel better about the horrible day after drinking that drink...) Dinner progressed and after the four shot mystery drink, I switched to a margarita. 'Twas good.

At this point it was suggested that I go and get the boy, and we all hang out together. Perhaps play some bags? Perhaps just drink and chat? Pool? (of the table variety, not the swimsuit variety.) So I go and get the boy. Everyone is merry, everyone is playing bags (Emily and the boy win, ahem,) and Emily continues to drink margartias. Sister in law switches to beer. Emily pays no mind and continues with the yummy margaritas.

Everything at that point becomes hazy. I know there was a point where we were all talking, and I was lying on the couch. I know there was a point when it became immediately apparent to me that I should probably move to the bathroom. An indeterminate amount of time passed, and the boy came to check on me. There was laughing, I was joking and being light-hearted while not moving my head from the cool, reassuring toilet. The light-heartedness was only for my audience's benefit. When they weren't around, I was pathetically wimpering into the toilet and begging God to take me from this cruel world. (Apparently melodrama does not go away with increased alcohol consumption. Did I mention that I'm supposed to be an adult?)

There was a picture taken of little brother posing while Emily's head was in the toilet (I hate everyone) and there was a constant mantra from Emily of "I have to drive to Ikea tomorrow." Everyone got a kick out of that. They assured me that I wouldn't, in fact, be driving anywhere tomorrow, and several "nokia" jokes were made. I asked what time it was (1:30am!!!) and at that point (with the responsibility that I had to fulfill firmly in mind) I finally told the boy that I wanted to go home.

I have no memory of the ride home, I vaguely remember the boy letting go of me for a moment while he opened my front door, and taking that opportunity to sit on the ground. He seemed upset by this. I also vaguely remember (and asked for confirmation the next day) that the boy seemed to find this extreme drunken-ness adorable. Why? Apparently it's not often that I am this "vulnerable" and "need him so much." Hmmm. I'm sure there's a lesson in there that I need to learn.

I think I remember trying to let the dogs out before the boy steered me to my bed and assured me that he would take care of them. (Looking at my basement stairs, I'm SO glad he caught me before I attempted to go down them.) I'm pretty sure I got a cold nose in my face before the dogs were again put away. I KNOW I remember Casey crying at 6:00am, trying to get out of bed to let her out, failing miserably, and wimpering to the boy that if he would let the dogs out, I would be forever in his debt. He did so without complaint. Impressive.

I somehow had remembered to set my alarm for 9:30am. (I was meeting friends to head to Ikea at 11:00am.) I woke up, felt about a THOUSAND times better than I had the previous evening (it's all relative, right?) and took a shower. What I had forgotten about hangovers is that they seem to keep creeping up on you the more you move around. After the shower (where I shaved my legs. What? Was I still drunk?) there was quite a bit of the boy laughing at me, another visit to my toilet, certainty that I would never be able to get dressed and would have the embarrassment of my friend showing up when I was naked, and finally lying on the couch cursing Jose Cuervo. (I did manage to get dressed. I'm not sure I matched though - Diane?) At this point it became apparent that I would not, in fact, be driving to Ikea. I think Blue sensed that I was not well and curled up next to me on the couch. I couldn't have moved that 50lb dog if I had wanted to. So I gave in and snuggled with him and hoped he could make the massive headache subside.

He couldn't.

So, I thought, perhaps if someone else drove, I could still attend the outing? I nixed that thought when I remembered that I get carsick in cars when I'm NOT hungover.

So while the boy watched a movie, and the dogs napped, I closed my eyes, wished for salvation from the pain, and tried to figure out how to not go to Ikea and not feel like an ass.

There was no way for that to happen.

Luckily, my friend was understanding. I'm assuming that I looked like complete hell when I saw her - I'm not really sure... But she did mention something along the lines of me not looking well. Our conversation was dominated by me trying to explain why I'm so sorry I'm an idiot, and simultaneously trying to figure out why the sunlight was made of thousands of tiny daggers that were stabbing into my brain. She was much nicer than I would have been, and for that, I'm grateful.

It wasn't until about 4:00pm that I felt some semblance of normalcy. I ate some popcorn at 2:00pm, slept through an entire movie, and then woke up at four feeling groggy, but alive.

So basically, I drank alcohol for about four hours, and then recovered in fourteen. I thought stupid decisions like that were reserved for the youth of America. Apparently not. Shoot.

I would like to say that I'm never drinking again. Unfortunately, one moment that is crystal clear from Saturday night was being helped in my car by the boy and overhearing my sister in law say to my brother, "I'm so sad. My last worthy adversary and I have defeated her. Who's left?"

Last time I checked, it was one to one, sister. We're going to need a best out of three before we start using words like "defeated."


Farmerspice said...

I'm so glad you didn't go down the stairs either!! Wow!!! Ah...the next days make you appreciate the lame weekend I had. :)

alisa said...

In all honesty I think everyone needs one of those kinds of nights every once in a while to remind them they are not 21 anymore (that or drinking sucks!). I think I'm about due for one :)

Glad you are feeling better.

ems said...

Yes, I'm feeling better. Humbled, but better. Casey slept with me last night. She wanted to make sure I was really okay :-)

zlionsfan said...

Well, that explains our conversation then. There were a couple of things that didn't make sense at the time. I won't go so far as to say that I can always tell when you've been drinking, but there are times when I'm not surprised when I find out.

Also, we spell that word without the first e. Our friends across the pond are the ones that use your spelling.

Also also, if you're intending to "win" a drinking contest (to quote a friend of mine, there are no winners in beer pong), at least a) stick to pre-mixed drinks or b) mix your drinks yourself. There is also c) teach yourself not to throw up, but I don't recommend that at all. The hangovers are much worse.

And there's this little thing about liver damage and such.

StaceyJ said...

Funny, really, really funny. I had a similar experience Saturday night...but mine was flu/cold related.
P.S. I want to meet drunk Emily. When can that be arranged?
P.S.S. Oh yeah, referencing my past blog, glad you hung those keys up. :-)

Farmerspice said...

I had to post another reference to Stacey wanting to meet Drunk Emily - is she anything like Drunk Emily from college?? I just have to know because there are a few nights I remember...hazy memories though.

ems said...

If memory serves (which, of course, in this case it doesn't) drunk Emily is really really funny.

Actually, there are two levels. Tipsy Emily comes out more often and she is very chatty and opinionated. Drunk Emily rarely comes out and she is all about lying down and praying that the room stops spinning...

AnnD said...

I would like to meet drunk Emily too. But I wouldn't want drunk Emily to turn into sick Emily the next day. So...I guess maybe I just want to meet buzzed Emily.

Moore said...

When I stopped by on Sunday, I thought it was ironic that you were talking to someone who has never been drunk. I mean what is the likelihood of that, especially given my penchant for nightlife?