It's official after Friday night. I have reclaimed my crown as the "Anti-Christ of Drinking". This dubious award was given to me in college. I have this uncanny ability to get people to drink ... and keep drinking. I somehow can persuade people to push it a little bit more than they should. Of course, announcing this will tip off some to be wary of me, but I just had to gloat that my title is back ... heh-heh.
In college, especially at the fraternity house, I could get a nun to break her vow of abstaining from alcohol. I don't know how I do it; but when the mood hits me, I can get people to booze it up. I've had friends and fraternity brothers get smashed on Friday night and swear off booze the next morning after 3 or 4 puking episodes. Somehow by 11 the next night, they'd be drinking again as if a cash prize would be awarded at the end of the night. I've heard many a friend and fraternity brother say "you're the devil man ..... I swore I wasn't going to drink tonight". Of course, the favor was always returned to me during the week when I tried to behave and keep a decent hour for classes the next morning.
However, Friday I was back to old form. One of the people on my team, LH, got a promotion. He has had a meteoric rise to his current position to say the least. There are people with nearly twice the tenure who would never get considered for promotion. Anyways, Friday started off as a pretty shitty day. I looked forward to a 5 hour training class for weeks only to have it cancelled once we had it started. Our customers at work on Friday were lazier than usual so I had to double my work load. Needless to say I needed some liquid relief even though I hadn't planned on going out that night.
So I meet up with the gang at this city's only choice for dining; in other words, a chain restaurant. We start with a couple of large beers and then decided to head to a small hole-in-wall bar where the fun started. It always starts innocently enough ... a few beers here and there. Then the Devil comes out with another beer ... then another. Next thing you know we've each downed like 8 beers to this point. Then the shots come, a Goldschlager, a Jagermeister, and to end it, the coup detat, Jose Cuervo. All that needs to be said is that LH was in Waffle House in a couple of hours, head on the booth table, praying that my scattered, smothered, covered, diced, chopped, and topped double hashbrowns don't gross him out too much.
But while we were at the hole in the wall bar, I got hit on by 2 different ladies. One was like 45 and was asking my boss, who is like a mother to me at work, if she could take me home. My boss teased her at first saying that it would cost her, to which she simply pulled out her credit card! The other girl was closer to my age and was sitting at a table behind our group with her best friend and a gaggle of like 5 guys that swarmed over every 3 minutes or every time she moved, whichever came first. At the end of the night, she came over to say that she was the one who played all the songs we liked (we were a hornery bunch that night .. singing and carrying on to the jukebox). She made the point of introducing herself unannounced and felt the need to hold my arm while she did so. The disheartening part was that she was taking off with some tool looking guy (probably her hook up for the night) and she had a huge tatoo of a star on the back of her hand. Now, I have nothing against tats, but please put them someplace discreet. Just knowing there is a tat someplace on your body to be found is hot; having it on the back of your hand so that everytime you pay for your Big Mac it's showing is definitely not hot.