Seeing Double

Even after the room stops spinning, everything still tastes like alcohol.

Enter New Character: Who Are You

Where to start?  I suppose it was before the Tequila but sandwiched somewhere after the Kamikazes.  

This morning, I feel sick.  Just to put that out there.  We went out drinking last night, the Wifey, the Roommate, and some former RA's under the guise (who were we kidding) of a RA reunion.

We went to Linda's.  Everyone at the table ended up getting mixed drinks.  Roomie bought our first round of Kamikazes.  I saw two of the members of The Boy Watchers Club outside.  I went out to talk to them.  They were on their way to Bauhaus, as usual.  

One thing I have figured out about Seattle is that it is hard enough to get a group of friends or people in the same place at the same time.  I mean, we invited quite a few people to come hang out with us last night, but only a handful showed up.  It is because of this inevitable rule that I was so thrown off for the rest of the night's guest list.  

It started when Wifey spotted 666.  Yes, he was back.  Lucky for me, she spotted him just as I was on my way down to get second drinks for Roommate and I.  I sent the roomie down instead- as to avoid a confrontation.  I told her which one he was, and to watch out for him.  As she is standing in line for the bar, wouldn't you know who else shows up?  Goddamn it, it's the pickup artist (who we still call Todd, though that is not his real name).  All I could say was "Wifey, Wifey, Todd is here").  And guess who Todd is standing by?  Roomie, who is standing by 666.  What are the fucking odds?  It was later revealed that The Pickup Artist tried to pick up roomie- to which she responded "he was just so smooth"... yeah.  We know.  That is what he does for a living, I'm sure.  When asked why the Pickup Artist was there, all he could say was "a little birdy told me you guys were here".  Yeah, that fucking birdy was one of the  members of the Boy Watchers Club.  We were all a little perturbed by his presence. 

At any rate, when friend and friend-of-a-friend showed up, we ditched the Pickup Artist and went outside- which was a suggestion on behalf of the boys wehn we revealed that we were not enthused by "Todd".  We realized that before we could leave, someone had to go back to our table and get what we had left there.  Roommate hesitantly went back to retrieve my wifey's sweater (as it was the only thing still there), and imagine her suprise to find that the Pickup Artist had abandoned our tbale to sit with some other people.  It was a good thing that we didn't leave our wallets or purses there.   

It was kind of an awkward conversation between the four of us- as my wifey was not with us, but with a group of six boys who "just moved to Seattle" (alas, don't they all?).  The dialog felt more forced than usual.  I am sure we all thought the same thing.  Friend went and bought all of us a round of tequila shots (which Roommate and I used as a chaser to our second Kamikaze, and third drink (lemon drops) of the night).  Needless to say, it was disgusting.  I almost puked, but resisted the urge.  Wifey came over for a short time.  Then left again (upon my begging her to leave, as she had already taken friend-of-a-friend's seat, which just so happened to be next to me).  Then Roomie had to leave so it was just my friend and friend-of-a-friend holding down the fort.  We found some random junk on the table, one of which was a candy heart glued to some sort of metal object.  Friend-of-a-friend told me I should keep it as a token of the night.  It is still in my purse. 

I must also make a note, that- during the time it was just three of us- I saw 666 again.  He made this mean, extended eye-contact with me.  And then I stood up and proclaimed to the boys "that's him, that's the 666 guy".  Too bad standing, shouting, and pointing drew his attention back to me.  This should also be some indicator of how I was finally feeling the effects of "the drank". 

By the time we left to get the two boys hot dogs, the tequila hit me.  I felt compelled to repetitively announce "So and so, I think you got me drunk"  or "I feel real dizzy".  I took off my shoe to show one of them my tattoo- and then realized I couldn't put my shoe back on.  And it was at that moment understood what it meant to be drunk.  I- as many people do- denied I was drunk and would occasionally spout off big words and say "see, if I can still use that word, I am not drunk".  

After the friend went and retrieved Wifey for me- the two boys left.  And just as I thought "ok, the night is over, I can pee now", Wifey's friends from inside come out.  Apparently, during the time that I was trying to put my shoe back on, Wifey started making out with one of them.  Her and this boy she just kissed came and sat down by me.  He asked me if I would make out with one of the two- or both- of his friends (neither of which were my type- not even my drunk type).  I told him that I wouldn't.  "And besides" I said, "you aren't making out with her".  So he did!  Right there, right next to me.  And then his friend started kissing me.  It was awkward, and I did not appreciate or reciprocate it.  This boys is now called "Who Are You", for obvious reasons. 

I got my shoe on, convinced my Wifey to take me back to her place, saw another friend, and then began the ascent back to her room.  We just so happened to be on the same path home as the three boys Wifey lured from the bar.  She coaxed one of them back across the street to make out with her- at which point I yelled to the boy who tried to kiss me earlier "I am sorry I didn't make out with you more.  I have a boyfriend who has a girlfriend"- which was my reference to friend-of-a-friend- which I might add is not my boyfriend, but yes, has a girlfriend.  

Though we ran into many friends, we safely made it back to her place.  She gave me water, potatoes, and an air mattress to sleep on.  That was a bad idea; as it was, the room was spinning, and the motion caused by fluctuating pressure on the mattress made me even more ill.  This morning, I felt my fair share of what last nights near-triumphs and casual misses brought.