This week, for the first time in my life, I went to the store and bought a big bottle of fairly expensive beer (and quite yummy, I must add) with the singular goal of getting wasted. And I did. And it was really fun. And I did it all by myself to boot. Let me preface all of this by saying that I don't advocate alcoholism or anything, but I think, there's something really nice about an alcohol-induced haze from time to time. Damnit, I'd do it again...Hey, I'll do it again soon.
I was compelled because, I'd had a really rough week. I had to move with my ex unexpectedly and the stress was just overwhelming. In fact I bought and drank my bottle of Maudite the very first night I spent chez my ex. I won't go into why I had to move or my feelings about being here, because the former doesn't really matter and the latter has been done to death. But getting drunk, what a pleasant feeling. The sensation washed over me slowly as I sat at the dining room table. When I stood up, I realized, the deed had been done. It was a 750ml bottle and I drank every last drop of it. Maudite, I bought it because of the name, the damned one, or the damned girl. I'm missing France and I was feeling sorry for myself too, so I thought, how fitting. But when I tasted it. YUM!! Dark, rich, slightly sweet and spicy. Oh, like me, except for the rich part. Okay, let me get back to the topic at hand before I descend any further into 'cheese-ville' and before this becomes an endorsement for the beer itself, which would not be a bad thing, because let me tell you, it's delicious. In any case, I was intensely relaxed. I was moving slowly, the world around me was moving slowly and things were calmed for the moment.
I recently read an article about this topic with a slightly different angle, you can read it here. The author extols the virtues of partaking from time to time....It has been, for me, something of a taboo as I have more than a few family members who take/have taken things to the extreme, but I have never gone overboard with drug or drink. Really, it, getting sloshed for it's own sake, is something that I had all but forgotten about since my college days. Even then I didn't drink to get drunk, it was all more a requisite part of the larger activity at hand - partying - and yes, I have used the word party as a verb here. Again, I am not talking about intoxication in the peeing-on-the-side-of-the-road, crawling-on-disgusting-bar-bathroom-floor, praying-to- the-porcelain-god sort of way, I am referring more to the very warm, comfortable feeling of being buzzed. Almost like floating in very warm water. There is really something to be something to be said for it.
Do I advocate alcoholism or any sort of habitually soused state of being? No. Do I think that alcoholic beverages should be consumed before noon? Generally speaking, no -- mimosas being one very big and important exception. The days of beer bongs and drinking games are a bit of a distant memory for me and I like that. Maybe then, the title here is overstated and should be instead: In praise of being buzzed. Perhaps. But, I'll leave it as it is, because I think there's something to be said for peeing on the side of the road or losing your shoes in a field occasionally too....Maybe it's high time I rounded up my homies for that too....**
**we'll wear our payless shoes that night!!
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