Which, to be honest, has nothing to do with this post. It just amused me.
It would have been even more amusing if it had been the first time it has happened.
It really wasn’t.
So, I seem to be coming down with a cold.
In addition to forcing me to keep a Kleenex box handy, this has also lead to this becoming one of those mythical, if infrequent, “Cranky Pete” posts.
Over the holidays, I had come up with some ideas for blog posts, but I’m just not in the mood for them right now.
I was also going to do a “Year in Review” post, but figured that I pimp my own stuff hard enough already. Plus, the archives are over there on the side. And you all should be spending every waking hour scouring them. I bite my thumb at anyone who doesn’t.
I didn’t go out for New Year’s Eve.
I’m cool with that.
I volunteered to stay in and ACNsit, so the rest of the family could attend some festivities.
Munchkin was asleep by 8:30. So, I watched a documentary about hockey fighters – which, if memory serves, was called “Hockey Fighters.” Clever. And I watched a few episodes of some crap reality show about Hugh Hefner’s girlfriends. I felt suddenly old when I realized that I’d never actually be willing to date any of them myself.
To be completely honest, by the 31st, I had more than had my fill of drunk people.
I was at the point where one more close talking drunk dude would have lead me to respond with a “If you don’t take two steps back, and stop stepping on my foot, my New Year’s resolution is going to headbutt you into late March sometime.”
(This is why I rarely let Cranky Pete post!)
I actually don’t like drunk people in general.
I didn’t enjoy your company 3 shots and 30 decibels ago, what makes you think I’m any more interested in your bullshit right now? You know how when you’re sober, you find me a little arrogant and aloof and you don’t talk to me? Howsabout we go back to that? Cool? Cool.
Since I don’t drink – and live in the drinkingest place on earth – I spent many years as the sober driver. (I can’t remember if I’ve ever blogged about why I don’t drink. If you are curious you can e-mail and I’ll give you a recap. Maybe. Or perhaps I’ll just tell you random foolishness that I find amusing at the time.)
I was a fairly effective sober driver. I talked my friends out of fights. I got them all home safely. I talked to cops on there behalf. I served as a tall, dark and sober option to women we met that were annoyed with drunk guys hitting on them.
But, after many years of it, I was done.
Drunk people aren’t going to send me into an immediate rage or anything. But, there is a limit to how much time I can spend with them in any given night/week.
Drunk women are no prize either.
I especially dislike women who go out – leaving their money at home – with plans to convince guys to buy them drinks. They actually plan this! Guys that they have no intention of taking home or ever speaking to again. They’ve clearly been sauteed in sleazy sauce.
I think I may have purchased two drinks for women (who I didn’t arrive at the bar with) in my life. And in both cases, I was quite certain that I was “in.”
It’s not a money thing. I’ll buy you ladies a meal. Or a cab to send your annoying drunk ass home. Or a pet hamster named “Gerardo.”
I have a number of reasons for not wanting to buy drinks. And here are some of them:
1) Why should I?
2) I thought that sisters were doing it for themselves.
3) You spent an hour tarting yourself all up, and now you want to pour in drinks so that you can get glossy-eyed, slurry and mess up your outfit? Time well spent.
4) As you get drunker, you might grab a group of other women and head for the dance floor screaming, “That’s MY song!” when “Brown-Eyed Girl” starts playing.
5) Sorry, still shuddering from #4.
6) I don’t want to use liquor to try to charm you. If you can’t already see that I’m delightful, then you’ve probably had enough to drink already.
Now, clearly there is a difference between drinking sociably and being drunk. For the people that I meet who are only having a few drinks, that is not going to be a big deal.
Besides, I’m sure that you’ll provide many other reasons for me to dislike you.
Is it a bad sign that my lung hurts?