punch drunk like

i just made a playlist. no. make that two playlists. consisting of one hundred percent genuine, googly-eyed, mush-brained, down-right silly "in like" music.

yes, i just used the phrase "in like." whatever. it works.

le sigh. life is really good right now. well, other than money being sucky. ug. if i overdraw my account one more time i am going to want to die. payday can't come soon enough. and i have no more clothes to sell, honestly. maybe its time to consider stripping...

but no. things will get better! more shifts happening at the ol' restaurant job, making moolah with the tips and yes, absolutely, amazing... I GOT A JOB AT THE NEW FROZEN CUSTARD STAND. fucking dream come true! free frozen custard and free greasy restaurant food, ALL SUMMER LONG! AND YES CAPS ARE ABSOLUTELY NECESSARY RIGHT NOW!

besides all that, the past few weeks have been chock full of lovely evenings such as georgia and kelly's going away party (drunk), liz's housewarming party and subsequent redwood hangout (drunk), and most recently the infamous "truth or dare night" at cha cha and last saturday's funny hangout at sun liquor (both drunk).

i have to pause though, and talk about the one night that was sort of awful. on one of georgia and kelly's last nights in town, they invited me to sing karaoke with them at the wildrose. as seeing it was a wednesday (traditionally karaoke night at kate's pub for me and the boy), i called him up and asked if he wanted to switch locations for the night. only if it involves karaoke! he enthusiastically agreed. wonderful! sort of a double date? nice.

around 10 i was slightly boozing at lindas, with some kids from oddfellows. wondering where the boy was, i texted him, asking his current whereabouts. two minutes later, i received a hasty reply: "brother. emergency. call later." shit.

my mind flipped through the handbook of possibilities. drugs. jail. fight. what could it be? his brother has a track record a mile long, but seemed to be stable as of late. he had a new job, some solid friends, and best of all, had a new-ish girlfriend after years of a psycho one. what could have gone wrong?

hours later, my boy called me. he sounded absolutely beat. his voice shook slightly, and he asked me if i could come over to the honeyhole where he was eating a sandwich. "i just... need you to be here with me," he said. i quickly shut down my tab and rushed two blocks over.

upon entering, i saw my boy. staring at the wall with an unfinished sandwich in front of him, he was sitting with a few close friends. i breezed over and whispered, "what happened?" in his ear. he looked surprised to see me, and took a minute to respond. "my brother walked in on his girlfriend ... committing suicide."

...

there are no words. i started to choke up and i just held him. he was in shock. two hours prior, after getting the absolute meltdown call from his sobbing brother (who was holding the phone in one hand and his bloodied girlfriend in the other), he had rushed over to find a myriad of ambulances and police. the girlfriend was rushed to the hospital and put in the ICU. she had survived, but barely. my boy was then left to help his brother sign the papers committing the girlfriend to the psych ward, clean up the apartment and finally, wipe the splattered blood off of his brother's clothes and calm him down.

the rest of the night consisted of me trying to calm this boy down. his friends bought him a couple of shots to calm his nerves (probably a bad idea). he went outside and smoked (quite a bit of) pot to relax. and then he was in horrible shape, and i had to help him home. even when he hit the bed (and i was taking off his shoes for him), he wouldn't stop freaking out. "what if she dies?" he asked, suddenly bringing out his irish catholic upbringing. "do you believe in hell? what happens to suicides?" he demanded, of no one in particular. i admitted i had no idea. he kept sitting straight up and grabbing my hands. "just tell me if you're ever sad," he said, as horrible possibilities must have been running through his brain. "have you ever considered suicide?" he kept asking. shudder. it was a horrible night.

and yet, for some reason, it made us closer than ever. once again, it was a moment when everything seemed shitty, and one of us was there for the other. he kept apologizing for bringing me into everything. i kept telling him to never be sorry for sharing. i want to be here for you, i kept saying.

after a horrible wednesday, the week took a turn upwards. thursday night josh head, ruth, jerad and i headed over to the cha cha for some cheap pitchers and a silly game of truth or dare. yes i know, how old are we. anyways, sooner or later the boy showed up with his friends, and then we had a big rowdy table full of kids. the bars closed, the boy and i wandered over to his friend's apartment and somehow, we got really messed up. bleh. at four in the morning, we found ourselves sneaking into his coffee shop and stealing beers from the fridge. i have no clue how or when we got home.

saturday night was equally humorous. i hung out at the coffee shop with the whole crew, joking around and distracting the boy and his co-workers. its funny. at this point i am good enough friends with his co-workers that i could call any of them up to go out. in fact, on this particular night my boy was sleepy, so i turned to his co-workers and asked them if they wanted to hit up sun liquor for some post-work drinks. well, it turned out that everyone thought it a swell idea and my boy found himself persuaded to join us. "just for one drink," he stressed.

four drinks and two hours later, we are all sloshed and happy. the boy and i headed back to the coffee shop where i had left my bike chained up. "i really have to get home," we both kept repeating. we walked outside to the bus stop and weighed the pros and cons. school early for him, work early for me. ugg. ah well. a passionate smooch goodbye, and two separate, uncomfortable, frustrating trips home for each of us, respectively. nothing worse. haha.

the next few days were full of work and keeping busy. oh and yes, a lot of brain energy was going into planning my big party. what occasion, you ask? cinco de mayo. aka MEXI-FEST 2009. yes, my housemates and i love random celebrations. hence the past parties (justin timberlake party, "fuck on" party, obamarama). and now, we were overly excited for cinco de mayo. understandably so, however. tecate tall boys, chips, guacamole and being outrageous are just everyday things in the goblin house. and to have an official day to celebrate these items to excess? perfecto.

what ensued was a house decorated in red, white and green streamers, sombreros, mexi-blankets, red lightbulbs, signs declaring our purpose ("its mexi-fest 2009, put your shots out in a line..."), mexi-music blaring (think way too much ricky martin, the macarena and yes, although she is colombian, shakira), and best of all, a giant cardboard taco ring toss game that actually mostly resembled a large vagina ("toss it right in!")

and then the guests arrived. goblin friends, hon gobs, neighbors, co-workers. the music was up and going right away and the dance floor packed. outside people smoked and drank and conversed (and later yelled). upstairs people did shots. im not going to lie, it was sorta hella (steph and i decided to bring back this word) fun. a successful party, if you ask me.

oh, and me. aha. silly, silly me. ahem. i might as well preface my behavior at mexi-fest by declaring that i did my first tequila shot at nine in the morning on may the fifth. at work. while working. while an elderly couple looked at me. i shrugged, stuck a lime in my mouth while my eyes watered, and waved them over to seat themselves anywhere. twenty minutes later my co-workers and i did a second shot. it was a fun work day.

after work i did two more shots, grabbed a beer and took myself home to set up the par-tee. let me tell you this, getting sound equipment set up, lightbulbs changed, decorating and cleaning are hard enough. while drunk, well, i have no idea how everything was pulled together in two hours. but suddenly, forty people were having fun and somehow everything was in full swing.

four beers, two shots and a few hours later i was GONE. accounts from other people range in nature, but according to susie i ran upstairs when my co-workers arrived, hugged everyone and demanded that we do a shot together. pouring bad tequila into the four shot glasses i own, i decided to substitute a small juice glass for my own drinking vessel. i offered the mega shot to susie. she declined, stating that anyone would "be nuts to drink a shot that big." i then downed the shot (which was actually about 3 shots in one), my eyes got big, and i calmly walked to the bathroom where i puked my guts up.

hours later, i heard someone knocking. i groaned, wondering why i was sleeping on such a cold floor. it was the bathroom, and my boy had come looking for me. "there you are," he sighed, shaking his head. somehow he carried me to my bed, got me water and made sure i was okay before i re-passed out. ah true romance.

the next morning i felt like... well shit is not strong enough of a word to describe what i felt like. i felt like shit that has been flung into the wind and hit by a speeding semi-truck. yes. that is how i felt. thank you mexi-fest 2009. and tequila. and never, never again.

the past two days have been recovered from my mega tequila hangover, mostly laying in bed with the boy, and then eating a bit of food, and then going to his house to lay in his bed. last night we didn't even leave his bed for fourteen hours. it was sort of glorious, not going to lie. i mean, when you're warm and happy and snugly, and only have to wake up when you need to drink some water or use the bathroom or have some sex, life is good. the end.

tomorrow work begins again. welcome to the weekend.