Seriously, though
A few weeks ago, on a Sunday afternoon, there was a knock on the door.
"Come in," I called, knowing Rodney was coming to visit. Simultaneously, I scrambled for the remote so that he wouldn't see I was watching the painfully retarded comedy Pootie Tang.
He poked his head around the divider between my entryway and my living room. "So everyone says that you got pretty drunk on New Year's."
"Well hello to you too, sunshine."
"I went out for dinner with some people, and like four people came up to me totally independently of each other and told me you got really plastered and passed out on the couch."
"I...that is a gross misrepresentation. I fell asleep on the couch. It was like 1:30 am. I was tired."
Rodney raised an eyebrow and regarded me skeptically, waiting for me to continue.
"...from puking so hard. Seriously, though, it was New Year's. I was drinking from like 4:00pm until midnight. It adds up, you know?"
"You know drinking until you pass out is dangerous."
"What do you mean, drinking until I fall asleep is dangerous? Falling asleep isn't dangerous, I do it all the time. Frequently after doing things like eating, or drinking, or brushing my teeth."
"Courtney said you passed out."
"Did she explain how I passed out in my sleeping bag, with a pillow under my head? I'm pretty sure as I was falling asleep I heard her go 'Cool, is Graeme going to die?'"
"Dude, people were concerned. That's all I'm saying."
I deflated a bit. "You're right, I shouldn't fault people for being worried."
He failed to suppress a grin. "Well, admitting you have a problem is..."
"Ah HA!" I shouted. I knew all along it was some sort of elaborate trap. Everyone I know was probably skulking around outside waiting to burst in and Intervent me. I grabbed a water glass and hurled it at my patio door, smashing it. I followed it through, heedless of flying glass, leapt the fence, and hid in the bushes until sundown.
I had purchased a pretty good bottle of bourbon for New Year's, because when celebrating the special occasion I like to drink something a little special. I didn't drink all of it (which is not to say that I didn't drink too much), and when leaving the next day, John called after me, reminding me about my bourbon.
"I don't want it," I said casually, "Keep it. Enjoy."
"Wow, okay, uh, thanks," he said.
After Rodney visited John messaged me. "Dude," he said "this bourbon is really excellent."
"I know!" I said. "Tell that to Courtney so I can save some face."
"Come in," I called, knowing Rodney was coming to visit. Simultaneously, I scrambled for the remote so that he wouldn't see I was watching the painfully retarded comedy Pootie Tang.
He poked his head around the divider between my entryway and my living room. "So everyone says that you got pretty drunk on New Year's."
"Well hello to you too, sunshine."
"I went out for dinner with some people, and like four people came up to me totally independently of each other and told me you got really plastered and passed out on the couch."
"I...that is a gross misrepresentation. I fell asleep on the couch. It was like 1:30 am. I was tired."
Rodney raised an eyebrow and regarded me skeptically, waiting for me to continue.
"...from puking so hard. Seriously, though, it was New Year's. I was drinking from like 4:00pm until midnight. It adds up, you know?"
"You know drinking until you pass out is dangerous."
"What do you mean, drinking until I fall asleep is dangerous? Falling asleep isn't dangerous, I do it all the time. Frequently after doing things like eating, or drinking, or brushing my teeth."
"Courtney said you passed out."
"Did she explain how I passed out in my sleeping bag, with a pillow under my head? I'm pretty sure as I was falling asleep I heard her go 'Cool, is Graeme going to die?'"
"Dude, people were concerned. That's all I'm saying."
I deflated a bit. "You're right, I shouldn't fault people for being worried."
He failed to suppress a grin. "Well, admitting you have a problem is..."
"Ah HA!" I shouted. I knew all along it was some sort of elaborate trap. Everyone I know was probably skulking around outside waiting to burst in and Intervent me. I grabbed a water glass and hurled it at my patio door, smashing it. I followed it through, heedless of flying glass, leapt the fence, and hid in the bushes until sundown.
I had purchased a pretty good bottle of bourbon for New Year's, because when celebrating the special occasion I like to drink something a little special. I didn't drink all of it (which is not to say that I didn't drink too much), and when leaving the next day, John called after me, reminding me about my bourbon.
"I don't want it," I said casually, "Keep it. Enjoy."
"Wow, okay, uh, thanks," he said.
After Rodney visited John messaged me. "Dude," he said "this bourbon is really excellent."
"I know!" I said. "Tell that to Courtney so I can save some face."