festive drunk

Let's get one thing straight. I know that 24 is not old. I'm 24. I'm not old. But y'all, the old gray mare, she ain't what she used to be.

There was a time when I could drink on Friday night, get up on Saturday and be in tip-top shape and then get right back at it again on Saturday night and still resemble a human being on Sunday morning. That time is not now. Last night I hit up one of my favorite neighborhood bars with a friend from New York (well, a friend I met in New York, who's actually from Memphis), his boyfriend and some friends from high school. And managed to drink several pints of Ghost River Golden and text just about every last person whose name appears in my phone with some type of genius observation. Example? I texted one of my HOBY friends, "Listening to Hanson and naturally I thought of you." Let's keep in mind that there is no reason I would've connected this person with blond-haired pre-pubescent teeny bopper boys. None at all. The booze made me do it.

I'd love to tell you that I'm a responsible adult who's capable of making willpower-related decisions, like "I'm not going to drink so much this weekend." I wish that were true, but in fact? My highly anticipated tacky sweater Christmas party is on Saturday. But that's festive, holiday-related drinking. And therefore totally different from up until 4 a.m. because I'm under the impression I'm 21 type of drinking.

Festive drinking makes you festive drunk, which is probably a lot like business drunk. Very grown up. Totally acceptable. Right?


cheers,
elizabeth