Monday, January 29, 2007

drink me a river, smoke me a song

Long over due for one, Thursday past was the crazy night out on town. The Denizens of the Dungeon, the folks who work with me, gathered at the erotic pub with the naked statues for a round of beer and 'team building'.
Half a pre-ingested munakka followed by all that beer, no food and distinctly remember tequila shots too before saying nighty-night to the OnesfromtheOrifice and heading off to Jack's Library for Sketchman's booklaunch.
No personal recollection exists after leaving the erotic pub. Everything else was filled in later by the accompanying Satriani and DJChick.
The swaying began righ about when the munakka kicked in, a good hour later than usual. What's absolutely potent about this shit, especially when you add beer, tequila and now whiskey to the equation is that you lose complete control of your tongue and your legs.
Satriana says he had to grab the collar to stop self from launching into available laps.
Didn't finish my drink, so walked out half-conscious with the glass in my hand, finished it in the car on the way to the Norse gig at the Garden Inn.
Walked in with the glass stuck in the inner jacket pocket, fell on a few more people, met Ma Cherie, whacked my head on the door coming out the loo and walked out again.
We were leaving and DJChick's hiding her unfinished stem of vino under her shawl.
We step past the breaking wall of bouncers and in her drunk, Aussie twang says, "I hope no one catches me with this glass!"
A hand reaches out from the wall of black shirts and collars me, "We need to check you sir!" "Why me? She's the one with the big mouth and the glass!"
They feel me up and down anyway and find the whiskey holder from the previous place.
"Oh ho," steps in Satriani, "This is our glass, we got itt from home.."
There's a ripple of confusion on the black shirt wall now, as one of them steps back to call the F&B chappie, who takes one look at the cause of concern and shakes his head, "That's not our glass, " he says!
We head back to the car, they remain, cast out of granite.

Woke the next day with a cut and a cigarette burn on my forhead, a bleeding gash on my shin, bruised knees, a throbbing head with a lump at the back and absolutely no idea where my glasses were.
Searched the house, got the maid and the Sister to do the same. No luck. No debris, nothing.
Checked with Satriani who unloaded me home and he said they were hanging onto my face last he saw.
Oh well.
Went by the optician near the Dungeon (the Dungeon and the Orifice are the same place, if you're wondering) to check out contact lenses.
Spent the better part of two hours with some strange-smelling man pulling my eyelids apart and trying to stick his fingernail in my eye before figuring out I couldn't do this to myself everyday. So it's back to spectacles of the blinker variety.
At least they'll help me focus!

7 Comments:

Anonymous tanaz said...

Are you serious? does this shit really happen to you? I don't believe you

6:19 PM  
Blogger Pirate of the Arabian said...

so i've been told..

11:16 AM  
Blogger jerry said...

Dude, you should've seen yourself at the launch man! But, damn, that's what they call 'rough drinkin'!

5:05 PM  
Blogger The Dude said...

HA! reminds me of when we met up last time and you had to cross the road at night to get to my car and the screw popped off your specs!

Oh yeah, got more harvey birdman and some more really insane shit for my next sojourn into town.

3:16 PM  
Blogger Skullsalad said...

I dont think you write enough : )

4:43 PM  
Blogger Diptansu said...

Very original style of writing. Enjoyed reading this blog. Was your book published. If it was, which publisher was it?

11:24 AM  
Blogger Saps said...

Dude, you've got me looking for munakka, I really wanna try some of this shit. BTW, interesting read, quite well written!

5:24 PM  

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