Last Saturday
My favorite night of the year is Halloween night. Actually, is the Saturday before Halloween when all the clubs and discos, bars, karaokes, all you can eat buffets, pubs, and every single place you can think of throw a custom party; and as that day we all have to adjust our clocks, it gives us all one more hour to enjoy the night.
Last Saturday was my turn to be the Pizza Delivery Guy, with a little "extra bacon for you" [instead of a pizza, I had a dead baby pig in it]. I got me the whole Pizza Hut uniform from a friend including the thing that they put on top of the car when doing deliveries. . . The whole nine years.
This year I'd say it was a very nice night. . . at least what I remember of it. Which I'm embarrassed to confess is not much as the lights went out early into the night for me. I had a black out and most of the night I flew with my automatic pilot. And that little fact sucks because I don't know if I really had fun or end up acting just like a party clown.
We end up going to two different clubs that night and according to my friends, I was pretty normal, a bit "turbocharged" to put it in their own words, and at times seemed like "out of control", but they say that that's the way I act when I'm drunk. The difference is that I always remember what happened, who I talked to, the silly things that I did, all the flirting involved, some of the dancing, etc., etc. After a couple of days I always remember pretty much all the details of my night adventures, and if there's pictures involved, they kind of give me a perspective of the time, people and things that I did.
Not this time. And even more so, more than half the pictures I took I just don't remember'em at all. That shit is embarrassing: acting like if I was sixteen years old again? The rational explanation is that I was so looking forward to this day that I drank too much too fast, a very bad combination.
Yesterday I had one of the worse hangovers in recent memory. I managed to take a shower in the evening and moved my poor self to a coffee shop near my condo not really to have something but at least to go out for a while. My stomach was on strike after all the abuse that it sustained the previous night, and even though I don't remember it, I know that I end up wrapped around the chair of porcelain giving back to the community all what I drank.
Those girls at the coffee shop are super cool with me, and when one of them saw me barely holding myself together and with a pale shade of green in my face she recommended some hot tea, peppermint to be more exact. [note to self: you should drink more tea.]
Then this morning when I stopped again for another peppermint tea, one of the other girls came all the way from the back to ask me how I was feeling. "Better" -was my answer together with a very generous tip.
Halloween 2005 is going to go down in history as perhaps the last time that I abused my self so much. . . But certainly will not be the last time I put my custom on and head for the club!
Last Saturday was my turn to be the Pizza Delivery Guy, with a little "extra bacon for you" [instead of a pizza, I had a dead baby pig in it]. I got me the whole Pizza Hut uniform from a friend including the thing that they put on top of the car when doing deliveries. . . The whole nine years.This year I'd say it was a very nice night. . . at least what I remember of it. Which I'm embarrassed to confess is not much as the lights went out early into the night for me. I had a black out and most of the night I flew with my automatic pilot. And that little fact sucks because I don't know if I really had fun or end up acting just like a party clown.
We end up going to two different clubs that night and according to my friends, I was pretty normal, a bit "turbocharged" to put it in their own words, and at times seemed like "out of control", but they say that that's the way I act when I'm drunk. The difference is that I always remember what happened, who I talked to, the silly things that I did, all the flirting involved, some of the dancing, etc., etc. After a couple of days I always remember pretty much all the details of my night adventures, and if there's pictures involved, they kind of give me a perspective of the time, people and things that I did.
Not this time. And even more so, more than half the pictures I took I just don't remember'em at all. That shit is embarrassing: acting like if I was sixteen years old again? The rational explanation is that I was so looking forward to this day that I drank too much too fast, a very bad combination.
Yesterday I had one of the worse hangovers in recent memory. I managed to take a shower in the evening and moved my poor self to a coffee shop near my condo not really to have something but at least to go out for a while. My stomach was on strike after all the abuse that it sustained the previous night, and even though I don't remember it, I know that I end up wrapped around the chair of porcelain giving back to the community all what I drank.
Those girls at the coffee shop are super cool with me, and when one of them saw me barely holding myself together and with a pale shade of green in my face she recommended some hot tea, peppermint to be more exact. [note to self: you should drink more tea.]
Then this morning when I stopped again for another peppermint tea, one of the other girls came all the way from the back to ask me how I was feeling. "Better" -was my answer together with a very generous tip.
Halloween 2005 is going to go down in history as perhaps the last time that I abused my self so much. . . But certainly will not be the last time I put my custom on and head for the club!
Jean-Francois was drunk at 7:42 PM
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