I can't remember now what it was that made me decide to try my hand at mid-afternoon drinking. I'm sure it had something to do with some emotional bullshit that I was trying to avoid feeling and/or dealing with. Tequila is my coping mechanism of choice... my only coping mechanism actually, and I utilized it to the extreme.
I began with a simple of game of pool. I had just gotten off working the one to six shift and was wearing a really short skirt and a pair of knee high hooker boots. I wouldn't have gone to any other bar wearing such a thing - but I know everyone that comes into the Shift Change.. or I thought I did anyway.
The first person I offended was an older gentleman with a full beard that was about my height. In light of his physical appearance I apparently decided that it was my duty to inform him that he looked just exactly like the Travelocity gnome. Because tequila makes me vocal and also honest... which is an awful combination, really.
I then pestered the Travelocity gnome guy to smile, in an effort to make him look less like a gnome. After perhaps thirty minutes of my pestering and awful joke telling the guy gave me a half assed smile and I told him that it did not help in the least. Gnomes, I think, are not supposed to smile. Because when this guy smiled it was some sort of Halloween version of the garden statue. I informed him that he was infinitely less creepy with a somber expression.
At some point I bounced up to the bar for a shot that someone or another had ordered for me and discovered a couple that I had never met staring at my short skirt and hooker boots. I smiled sweetly at them and informed them that I was not, in fact, an actual hooker, but that I did play one on t.v. I can not imagine why I felt the need to inform them of this fact, but they smiled and nodded at me.
Mr. Gnome left, the couple left, and soon it was just me and H drinking shots at the bar. We decided right then that we simply must walk next door and get M and D to come drink with us. Instead of knocking politely at the door, I pounded like the LAPD and scared the shit out of M,D, and Superman who was visiting them. Superman tells me that he is going to buy me pants, probably because I look like a hooker. He says that he can't come and drink with us, because he has Kenny with him. M thinks Kenny is a dog. I can't imagine why she thinks this.
I tell them that they both drink like girls, dog or not.
Kenny is actually a guy sitting alone in the kitchen. Since he is not a dog, I borrow his lighter, put my arms around him and tell him that I love him. Kenny looks scared so i introduce myself and tell him that I am certainly not a hooker.
Not a real hooker anyway.
I don't know why Superman decides to carry me back to the bar... it possibly has something to do with simply wanting to get rid of me. Maybe Kenny was feeling violated by all of my hugging and professions of love since he actually didn't know me...In any case I found myself drinking more tequila and proclaiming that M was now the Travelocity gnome and that I was still not a real hooker...
When I wake up the next morning I promise to never, ever, ever drink through my emotions with tequila again... but even I know I am lying to me.