Wednesday, August 8, 2007

Pink Ephelants on Parade

XBrood Live: Pink Ephelants on Parade

Tuesday, May 30, 2006

There are no inhibitions when your drinking and this is something that for the first time in my life scared the living shit out of me this Sunday. It started off innocently enough. Pumpo and his girl invited us over for a BBQ with her Italian family. This was so much fun. We had a few dishes I’d never tried before and it was really good. Cat’s families were really nice and, although I was extremely nervous hanging out with them at first, they made Rigid and I feel very welcome. They are after all my ex-husbands new family and you never know how people will react and this is always something I’m very aware of. Cat’s dad also brought some of his homemade wine for us to try and we polished off a bottle during our early dinner.

Little by little as the lazy day waned on the family started to slowly pile out and our friends slowly piled in. Eventually the sun went down and people were eating all over again. I, on the other hand, was not…no I was busing myself with Uncle Lilo’s infamous super duper strong-kick-your-mother-fucking ass wine and eventually stepped up to my Jack and Coke but I’d been drinking since around 3 pm and still didn’t have much of a buzz. This is only because I was seriously nursing that wine. I’ve heard stories about people who are brave enough to drink it and I have respect damn it. Rigid was only drinking beer and earlier had a couple glasses of wine. Nothing major, but for some reason the later it got the more insane he became. He started goading people on into drinking vodka shots and here’s the stupid thing. I opened my big fat mouth and told everyone I still wasn’t drunk because I was full from our earlier meal still and suddenly a vodka shot appeared before me. A shot poured by my husband in fact. Well slap me in the ass and call my mommy. I drank that shot after Rigid and friends gulped down theirs. The faces they all made gave me the willies. I wasn’t looking forward to that bitter dry taste in my mouth. The kind that makes you want to spew your drink all over the floor. I drank it of course and showed no signs of its effect on my face, which of course got a nice borage of testosterone filled praises.

Feeling quite full of myself I began to look for the hair on my chest, which was met by another shot and several loud cheers. Still I was pretending to be demure and refused to take a full shot each time… That is until I started not to taste the vodka, which really doesn’t take quite long at all. Before I knew it Rigid was pouring shot after shot to all of us. I’m sure I poured a few for myself as well and in the end probably had about 4-6 shots. Rigid is sure he had at least 6 shots and we’ve no idea how many everyone else had. So let’s do a count. I had approximately 6-8 glasses of Uncle Lilo’s infamous super duper strong-kick-your-mother-fucking ass wine, about 4-6 vodka shots and at the very least 4 Jack and Cokes between 3pm and midnight. A long time ago that really wouldn’t have been very much, but things are a little different now. Now things moan and groan that could have taken much more abuse. Now my belly rumbles with the mixture of wine, vodka and whiskey. Now I know better than to mix drinks for the horrifying fear that I’ll end up embarrassing myself and spewing my guts up all over myself, my friends and their belongings so I try my best to be very careful and very rarely get drunk… Like UBER drunk.

You’d think a strong healthy 25 year old wouldn’t quite have that problem, but I always did have a knack for going the distance damn it! Rigid, the poor thing drank so much that when he was ready for bed threw up all over the toilet. But I was there with him the entire time. I gave him plenty of water to drink to aid in the process. A trick I learned after many sick drunkards threw up uncontrollably all over my house. ALL OVER. There was vomit on my bed, in my friend’s hair, behind the toilet, in the sink, on the couch, on the carpet, on my shoes and in my bathtub…. Don’t forget the kitchen. Yes, I’ve had people do it all over my house, but I learned that a nice big glass of water would help you spew your guts out so you get everything pretty much out all at once. It’s painful, but I’ve had to do it and it works. Unfortunately the glass I had on hand was quite small so I had to keep running back and forth from sick Rigid to the kitchen sink. He wasn’t drunk enough not to notice that I was giving him tap water either which didn’t help. So each time I’d come back I had to re-convince him to drink the water. That took up a lot of time. You always want to get a drunk to ingest very large quantities of water even if they’re full. They’re going to spew it all up anyway, better to do it with a little lubrication.

Well, I stayed with him until I was pretty sure there was nothing else lurking around in his tummy and put him to bed. I went back outside and continued drinking with everyone else. I’d even come to check in on him once in a while. I did catch him out of bed once but other than that there were no other incidences… That I could remember. It was at this point that things got very fuzzy for me, but there’s something I could not forget. I was WAY too friendly with Pumpo’s old friend and he was too friendly right back. When I’m drunk everyone is my friend and friends… I’ll usually hang all over. Guys, girls they’re all the same to me. But this was a little different. It wasn’t the usual ‘I’ll just use you as a leaning post ‘cause I’m to drunk to stand on my own’ kind of thing. I think at one point we were practically holding hands, but I didn’t care. All my cares were completely beyond my reach. There was nothing that could possibly bother me anymore. I didn’t care about anything at all. I didn’t care that if my husband came outside and saw me he would be mad at me or that if anything at all happened with this man it would mean the total and complete end of my marriage. I could fucking care less. Although I was glad that Pumpo never really left us alone. In fact no matter what happened or what we were doing he never left us alone for more than a few seconds… I think. Fuzz sucks.

I do however remember Cat telling us that Rigid got up again and barfed all over the bathroom and showed me where. I was appalled and cleaned it up as much as I could. We found a nice big chunk of something on the toilet and a whole mess of chunks all over the door and the carpet just outside her bathroom. I was dying. My poor Rigid hacked out his left lung all over the place. It was like he fucking exploded into the bathroom with projectile vomit but instead of heading into the toilet in a stream burst out of his face as though there had been a giant fan in front of him redirecting his vomit everywhere but there. I was wracked with guilt. There I was farting around when he needed me. I never even knew because I hadn’t checked in on him again in a while. Well I cleaned up the door and checked in on him again. Made sure he was nice and tucked away and gave him a kiss on the forehead and for some stupid reason went back outside while Pumpo cleaned the carpet. This time Cat didn’t leave us alone though. Eventually we were all hanging around outside until Pumpo put Cat to bed and we were finally alone.

Nothing happened of course. We were just outside looking at the stars arm in arm on the back steps. I could have sworn I saw two falling stars at exactly the same time just, but it could be that my eyes crossed at just that moment. We must have looked like a lumpy mass too… Like fat lumpy Siamese twins. Pumpo was back out in a jiffy though and we were all chatting away for what seemed like hours. Eventually I laid down on the cold concrete step and closed my eyes. The next thing I knew the guys were waking me up and laughing at me. Apparently I snore when I’m drunk. They held me up and I clumsily tried to put one drunken foot in front of the other. My knees didn’t seem to be doing their job though so I’m very glad they were there to hold me up. The last big embarrassing moment was when Pumpo tried to lie me down on the sofa bed. I put my hand down on the mattress to support myself and my hand went straight through to the floor and I went head first into his crotch. Thank GOD he has such quick reflexes because he jumped back so fast my head nearly hit the floor. He caught me before I did, but by then I was so embarrassed I just crawled under the covers.

Things get really fuzzy at this point, but for some reason I remember running into Cat in the bathroom. Why I wasn’t wearing any pants is beyond me so I ran back to the bathroom and hoped that No one could see my undies in the dark, put my pants back on and hid under the covers until I knocked out. The next day I woke up to find Rigid watching me while I slept. I smiled at him like I do every morning when suddenly all those bits and pieces screamed their way back into my still drunk skull. The words “Oh my god.” came out of my mouth quite frequently. I told him everything of course and I fully expected him to have words with John and probably threaten to leave me, but he didn’t which made me feel even worse. When Pumpo woke up I asked him if he realized how drunk I was and asked him why he didn’t pull me aside to tell me I was being inappropriate. He said yeah, he knew I was really drunk but that I seemed to still be in control. Said John tried to get fresh a couple of times, but that I’d sock him if he got too close. I cannot for the life of me remember that, but I was so happy I nearly cried right then and there. Still I could tell by his behavior with me that morning that he wasn’t too happy with me. Pumpo yelled at me a couple of times and really hurt my feelings, but I know I deserved it.

He made us all a really great breakfast. It’s really funny to see a grown man in an apron in the kitchen making your breakfast after a night of binge drinking. It’s almost surreal. The food was so good though and the coffee and juice really hit the spot, but I was so hung over I really needed some painkillers. After a while John took Rigid and I out for lunch and there was absolutely no tension for which I was very glad. In fact Rigid seemed completely at ease and they chatted about anything and everything back and forth. We had such a good time. Probably one of the best holidays I’ve had in a long time, but I was glad to be going home. I started to talk about it with Rigid again and broke down into tears. I really am disgusted with my behavior and it really freaked me out that I could be that way. You see I’ve never actually had to worry about anything like that before. In my past nothing ever happened that Pumpo and I didn’t want to happen. There were no inhibitions to worry about ever. Of ‘course we were always careful and never did anything if without one another’s consent, but my life is so much different from all of that now. It’s just me and Rigid… nothing and no one else. Maybe the fact that I really do have something to fear really scared the crap out of me when I didn’t have any fear whatsoever. It simply did not exist and in the morning when it all came flooding back it really left me unsettled. I love my husband so much that I can feel my heart about to burst when I see him each and every time. I love him so much that when he hurts me or makes me angry I want to tear my hair out to show him how much he’s truly hurting me. I want to make myself bleed so he can see the physical effect he’s having on me. I can’t imagine doing something that would compromise my marriage so I don’t quite understand my behavior.

I think what’s made it worse for me is that he blames himself for it. I don’t understand that. I don’t know what to call it. I’m completely baffled. I can tell you that if the tables were turned I wouldn’t feel quite the same. I wouldn’t blame myself for someone else’s misbehavior. I prefer to take full responsibility for my actions and expect the same from someone else especially my partner. Still I feel really good about myself in having told him right away and how we handled it afterwards. Now we know… I’m a fucking slut and must be watched at all times or not drink so much. Wait, we already knew I was a slut. I just have to work on the not drinking so much because it seems that I could go from slut to whore in an instant.

Posted by Maharet at 2:26 PM

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