Moderation: the quest for the impossible, and the Beaver Story

For whatever reason I am incapable of practicing temperance. Either I abstain entirely from weed and booze, or whole-heartedly celebrate its existence. That is, I spend an entire week of working nonstop 14 hour days, then destroy myself on the weekend.

I didn't blog about last weekend, but here is the abbreviated version: I got shit-canned by 7PM, ended up being serenaded by a homeless man in OTR as I sat by myself waiting for a cab that never came. Charlie saved me, took me to a hipster bar where I reunited with my friends and ended up safe at home. The next day, Mikey and I went kayaking, or high-aking actually, and almost died twice. Seriously, I had to take a moment to sit on the river bank and recollect every special moment I've shared with family and friends. That's how serious our accident was...

So you would think that after these experiences, I would reflect on my poor decision-making skills and come to the conclusion that I need to modify my behaviors. That's what a sensible person would do. However, the only conclusion I have reached is that I am not a sensible person.

Last night was a recipe for disaster from the beginning, but still yet I enthusiastically participated. Why? My buddy Mosher is just that cool of a guy. If he wants to do tequila shots, it must be a good idea! We drank beer by the pitcher, each having our own pitchers. All this was BEFORE we got to the bar with $5 all-you-can-drink PBR, all night long. I was schwasted.

At the bar, I talked to a lot of people. Said some dumb shit and told some bad jokes, as usual. I met a guy, kinda cute but had a little extra meat on his bones, who I talked to for a while. I don't remember what his name was, what attracted me to him, or what the fuck I was even thinking, but somehow I decided to leave the bar with him. I vaguely remember him saying something like, "I have a big diesel truck," and me thinking that we were going to go four-wheeling or something in Clifton. I'm an idiot.

My memory crapped out on me (thank you, tequila) and its pretty hard to piece together the events that followed, but I remember walking across Clifton to his house and making out in his back yard (he didn't have his keys). For whatever reason, we decided to roll around on the ground. I think making out on the grass was supposed to be sexy, but at the time I didn't realize that it was Clifton grass, i.e. patches of vegetation covered in a mixture of cigarette butts, blunt roaches, probably some shards of broken glass, etc. Anyhow, while we were making out, he asked if he could go down on me. My answer: MOST CERTAINLY!

So yeah, I was laying on the skankiest ground in the world getting face. From what I remember, I enjoyed it thoroughly. That is, UNTIL he got shitty with me. In the middle of his muff-dive, he stopped, looked up at me and said, "You know if we do this again you should shave it all off."

This changed everything. I sobered up a bit, and suddenly became a very pissed-off drunk. I made him stop, and as I quickly redressed myself I told him off:

"OKay first off, I don't even know your name. I met you at a bar, I'm not going to give you my number and this certainly won't happen again. Second, I keep my shit in check... but there is no way in hell that I would shave it off for YOU," and I walked out of his yard into the street, pointing at him and yelling, "DON'T ACT LIKE I HAVE SOME CRAZY FUCKIN' BEAVER!!!!"

Legitimately offended, I stormed down the street, sort of huffing but my lip was also quivering. I think I was drunk and felt hurt, but mostly I just felt like a skank. My clothes were covered in dirt and grass stains. Of course, I had no where to go and I didn't know what direction I was walking in.

Fortunately, I passed this house where a group of five men were sitting on the porch drinking beers and listening to music. I really didn't have anything better to do, so I walked up to the porch and posed a question to these men:

"Gentlemen, let me ask you this: Raise your hand if you have ever gotten wasted and made a fuckin' retarded decision?"

Literally, all five of them raised their hands at the same time, chuckled and lifted their beers to their lips to take a sip. I made some bad jokes about having a shitty night. Whether they thought I was actually cool, drunk enough to fuck, or just felt sorry for me, they invited me to kick it with them on their porch and drink beer. I was in! We proceeded to have a group conversation, steered by my drunken charm, where we discussed the myriad of ignorant shit that we had done. I even told them my story, bringing it up by saying, "Can you guess what was the worst part of my night? Yeah some guy offered to give me face and didn't finish...that sucked ass. That's like getting head and being blue-balled." Attentively listening, they nodded and agreed.

Somewhere in our conversation, I mentioned that I used to compete in beauty pageants. They even got me (it wasn't hard) to show them my walk and showcase some of my old modeling skills. Thus, for the rest of the night they called me "Miss Kentucky."

These guys were in their early thirties, so they had been out of the college drinking game for a while. It seemed to me like it was a good idea to challenge them to shotgun some beers. I could tell they really wanted to do it, but hadn't thought of shotgunning beers in a while because they were looking at each other for approval. Finally, one of them said, "If Miss Kentucky wants to shotgun beers, then by god we need to shotgun some beers!" This was the beginning of the end for these guys, because we ended up shotgunning SEVERAL beers thereafter, and I initiated a vigorous game of flip cup. Basically, I talked these dudes into getting wasted; the most fucked up they'd been in a long time. One of them even put his arm around me and said (slurring his words), "I never thought that some beautiful girl would show up on our porch and chug beers with us. If my wife leaves me tomorrow it's all your fault," Mission accomplished.

So this lasted from about 1 AM, when I showed up, until around 5 AM when these guys were barely holding on. It was then that I decided to initiate a naked dance party, after one of these guys played a Crystal Method song. When I mentioned it, one of the guys said, "That seems kinda homo," and his friend quickly responded by saying, "OH it's not homo, she's gonna get naked too; (to me) You'd have to get naked with us, right?" My reply: "Hellz yeah!" and I started to take off my shirt and dance around like an idiot. For about ten minutes, I was naked, dancing with 5 naked grown men in the backyard of a house in Clifton. It was short-lived, as one of them passed out naked in the kitchen, but for a few moments, very awesome.

I think it was good for them, because it made them realize how drunk they were, and that 5:30 AM was probably a good time to hit the hay. While they offered me a sofa inside to sleep on, I, for whatever reason, opted to sleep on the old nasty couch they had on their porch. I used my purse for a pillow and someone's sweatshirt for a blanket. Just like on a camping trip, I woke up with the sunrise so I literally got less than 2 hours of sleep.

I ate lunch with Mikey, who also got drunk very drunk last night. He ended up paying $70 at the Brass Ass to finger-fuck a stripper. He is a classy guy, what can I say. We smoked, shared the stories of our debauchery, loathed our behaviors. During this, I received a text message from one of my 5 new naked dance party buddies:

Hey Miss Kentucky
This morning was a rough one, but worth it. We hadnt had that kind of fun in a LONG time! Sorry you slept outside. Next time come sooner and sleep indoors. Take care of yourself, and stay away from any guys who talk about shaving beavers. LOL cya

All I could do was just shake my head. I haven't responded yet, but I will. I didn't even remember giving any of them my number! But, I'm glad I could make their night. Hopefully, I didn't initiate any mid-life crises or divorces.

I spent my "thesis day" smoking pot and thinking of ways to repair my dignity. Please forward any ideas or suggestions.