Damn you Achary
The last time I got drunk with Guru I ended up sick for two days straight. So I promised myself that not only would I stop trying to keep up with his already race-advantaged liver- but that I would stop getting drunk with him entirely.
So God knows how the fuck I ended up passed out at 4am on a half-built stage in front of the old supreme court with a flattened Slurpee cup in one hand and an empty bottle of King Roberts in the other.
Guru woke me up with the sound of his piss hitting the ground. At that precise moment between hazy, cotton-mouth groggy and slightly less hazy cotton-mouth groggy, I had what some people call a sudden realization.
And this is it: When the day arrives where I actually drag my bladder, swollen with alcohol, to an actual, legitimate, state-sanctioned urinal- is the day I will start recognizing myself as a grown man. Imagine that - a grown-ass man. I extended that thought and drew it to the inevitable conclusion that this would have to be the ultimate barometer of a man's worth in society. Where and how a man chooses to pee.
I was still drunk, so I can't remember if I shared this revelation with Guru - who was just staring at me with a shit eating grin on his face saying, "Is this making you feel uncomfortable?"
I reached for my pack of cigarettes and was just about to light one when I suddenly remembered that I was trying to cut down. So I stopped myself before doing something I was going to regret (for the next 2-3 hours at least)
Instead I reached through the cheap Vodka haze and sounds of urination to try and relink the chain of events that brought us to where we were.
7-11, it was Guru's round. He had a bottle of French Cellar in his hand and was just about to pay, when he stops himself, (dramatically) sticks his finger in the air and says some shit like, "I have a better idea" or something.
40 seconds later we each had a Slurpee ( apple flavored and watery cause the machine wasn't working properly) in our hands. The cashier was a sweet looking Indian girl who looked too chirpy to be working the shift she was working.
After taking a look at Guru's debit card, she gave it back to him and asked,
"Are you Brahmin?"
Guru said, "Um yeah, how do you know?"
"Ah-cha-ree"
Then she giggled and pointed at the bottle in Guru's hand,
"King Robert"
Guru went quiet as he was punching in his pin.
"Dude, did she just fucking make fun of me?"
We were walking across the road.
He started to gesture, "She went like hehe Brahmin, pointed at the Bobby and said King Robert- What the hell is THAT supposed to mean?"
I entertained the idea that Guru Achary could possibly have been the first ever real-life Brahmin this chick ever saw.
Then I started to convince myself that Guru Achary was really the first ever real-life Brahmin this chick ever saw.
Then I was convinced that Guru Achary was indeed the first ever real-life Brahmin this chick ever saw.
Then I needed to pee.
So God knows how the fuck I ended up passed out at 4am on a half-built stage in front of the old supreme court with a flattened Slurpee cup in one hand and an empty bottle of King Roberts in the other.
Guru woke me up with the sound of his piss hitting the ground. At that precise moment between hazy, cotton-mouth groggy and slightly less hazy cotton-mouth groggy, I had what some people call a sudden realization.
And this is it: When the day arrives where I actually drag my bladder, swollen with alcohol, to an actual, legitimate, state-sanctioned urinal- is the day I will start recognizing myself as a grown man. Imagine that - a grown-ass man. I extended that thought and drew it to the inevitable conclusion that this would have to be the ultimate barometer of a man's worth in society. Where and how a man chooses to pee.
I was still drunk, so I can't remember if I shared this revelation with Guru - who was just staring at me with a shit eating grin on his face saying, "Is this making you feel uncomfortable?"
I reached for my pack of cigarettes and was just about to light one when I suddenly remembered that I was trying to cut down. So I stopped myself before doing something I was going to regret (for the next 2-3 hours at least)
Instead I reached through the cheap Vodka haze and sounds of urination to try and relink the chain of events that brought us to where we were.
7-11, it was Guru's round. He had a bottle of French Cellar in his hand and was just about to pay, when he stops himself, (dramatically) sticks his finger in the air and says some shit like, "I have a better idea" or something.
40 seconds later we each had a Slurpee ( apple flavored and watery cause the machine wasn't working properly) in our hands. The cashier was a sweet looking Indian girl who looked too chirpy to be working the shift she was working.
After taking a look at Guru's debit card, she gave it back to him and asked,
"Are you Brahmin?"
Guru said, "Um yeah, how do you know?"
"Ah-cha-ree"
Then she giggled and pointed at the bottle in Guru's hand,
"King Robert"
Guru went quiet as he was punching in his pin.
"Dude, did she just fucking make fun of me?"
We were walking across the road.
He started to gesture, "She went like hehe Brahmin, pointed at the Bobby and said King Robert- What the hell is THAT supposed to mean?"
I entertained the idea that Guru Achary could possibly have been the first ever real-life Brahmin this chick ever saw.
Then I started to convince myself that Guru Achary was really the first ever real-life Brahmin this chick ever saw.
Then I was convinced that Guru Achary was indeed the first ever real-life Brahmin this chick ever saw.
Then I needed to pee.