Fill in the Blank Friday

So I have been chasing Fridays and and timezones so I could do one of these..Angie always has hers meticulously up - the Wee bit Wednesdays and the Fill in the Blank Fridays and I always come across them when it's past midnight here.Timezone's a bitch.So today,instead of my usual afternoon Dexter therapy I decided to riffle through my favourite blogs and partake in spreading what is known as a blog infection or meme.

Here's mine today..So here's how I'm gonna do it-There are blanks.I'm gonna fill them up.And,today is,uh,Friday.Steal it and hop on over to Lauren's blog to link up!

My Dad never told me how much is too much..

...Probably because he never knew that I would put on my mermaid pants,jump in the ocean and come out clean without any trace of the scaly paraphernalia as evidence.(Have I significantly creeped you out yet?)

Last time I happened to give only a shady view,mere empirical data.I never got around to establish what kind of a drunk I am-which is quite difficult to demarcate-but, one which I believe,can be aptly described by a Bengali saying we have.Roughly translated it stands at- “Drunk by nature,Sober by practice” ;)

“Better me than a horny frat boy,” was what my father had said when he mixed me my first drink.I had slept well that night.(Author's note:I'm not sure horny was the word he had used-but I guess it does add pizazz to the dialogue and make my dad seem a whole lot cooler.)

You see,my association with alcohol has always been with one singular purpose-“Let’s get piss drunk”.How much is too much was never a point to considerUnderstandably,I have a lot of growing up to do.But here’s the fun and tragic part-it takes me one hell of a lot of the happy juice to go from Buckingham Palace guard to Mr.Wobbly Man.Meanwhile on the trippy road,I enjoy getting other people drunk and  watching them act out the painted fool in them.I mean,I don’t do it on purpose(so what if I did?Hell’s a lot hotter than Heaven anyway)-there are people who know how to conduct themselves,there are people who don’t.And it’s not taking advantage if the trapeze tricks from barstool to neighboring tables are voluntary.

Half-way across the channel we conclude:I’m a sadomasochist drunk with a conscience-which, in a way, negates the sadomasochist part and begs that I be better educated about the definition of the said term.

Also,when alcyhol goes tingly toes into my system,my senses become heightened-almost like a temporary genetic mutation into some creepy spidy-woman.Scratch that.The only thought that buzzes around my head-and successfully kills the buzz-is that I MUST return home sober(if I'm planning to return<---read:threatened at gunpoint that I absolutely must)-Or I’d be sleeping forever in a coffin that most definitely wouldn’t be mahogany,nor lined with velvet cushions.

Three-quarter way in:I’m a scared drunk,or-hardly drunk at all.

And last but not the least, the Magic Eraser drunk.

My entire persona-I’m a goofball and a hunchback with a warped sense of humour-which blurs the lines between my sober slurs and drunken drivels.This is a Divine Gift,my friend.Absolutely Heaven Sent on a winged horse that probably farted scented rainbows.How can you let it go to waste?You Mustn’t.

(Power to you if you can figure out if this was a sober slur or a drunken drivel ;) )

Till then…

One Tequila…Two Tequila…Three Tequila..floor!more!

 P.s:What kind of a drunk are you?

The closed door was decorated.It shut with a bang.

When you’re addicted to blogging as much as I am,you tend to count every step you take. And look for blog worthy material in a marker to a ruffled pillow and  a wayward mind.

But,if you’re as lazy as I am,you end up doing nothing about it.

Like I did.

And Do.

I can’t organize my thoughts to sum up one sumptuous blog post ,but I had one awesome summing up of a hectic week.

It involves alchohol.

I know I got you interested.Hooked.One word.See?Even spelled out on a blog makes you want it.

So yesterday I attended class and then came home,and passed out.

But here’s the in betweens.

I’m 5 foot nothing.(the realization of this statement comes afterwards,trust me.I hope)

I met a friend  who went for college outside the state.Mister A looked like a shaggy sheep dog,but pleasant.A known face and aura always is J.

Also?

I came up to somewhere near his chest.Hovered about it,I should say. And he vouched for it that I looked shorter.Pfft.Sheep dog.

Cab ride to Park Street.

3 30 mls of vodka and a shared beef steak later we hopped to Mags[Magnolia] for shots.

No shots,no liquer.So we had a cocktail each.

Blue Havana for me,Whiskey Sour for him.

And then large tequilas.

Sauntering out I confidently remarked that it was raining-with the wet pavement in sight.

It turned out that they were repaving it.(in my defense,it WAS wet and the sun was still in its bedclothes)

I sought to put my purse in my bag.It fell out with a thump.Or maybe a flump.Or a-hump?It escapes me.

With equal confidence he remarked that I was high.

Reader,I believed him.

Tube ride to meet two other lads.

I probably clung to A for dear life[Sorry I didn’t mean to grope.Did I?]

One man with a bellyful of absurdity stared for at me for the rest of the ride.

Plonk.

New bar!

Old Friends!

2 more large vodka on the rocks.

By the end of the evening I couldn’t put one foot in front of another.

But I remember being completely sensible.(Absolutely not relative)

Except I laughed a lot.

And felt my lips go numb.

8:30. in the evening I was home and passed out.

Don’t tell me I had too much to drink.

I’m 20.

I’m also 5 foot nothing.

Psst.Check out our Mudmask and Martini blogger social  On Gnetchy's blog :) I'm yet to send in my pictures.Yes I'm sucky like that!Ty and Gnetchy,bang on my Red Door.Bang,bang bang!You get me goooiiiing.love you!