Shhh…not so loud.
There is a minor problem with aging and alcohol. You drink and you drink and you are all lubed up and you begin to tire much faster than when drinking was a sport. Let me roll back a little.
In yesterdays blog I mentioned the group meeting I am attending and the terrible way a bunch of middle aged men all want to go skateboarding. I may have left that part out. Anyway, men as a rule lose all logic when it comes to alcohol and the male bonding ceremony. This is another reason why there are fewer men in the world than women. I digress.
So there was a vendor dinner last night…no we did not eat the vendor. A vendor dinner is when the companies at the meeting take everyone somewhere to eat which is often accompanied by the illustrious “song book.” Well, of course there were a few new people and the standard initiation into the “club” is to sing out of the book. So a coworker from my office was a virgin to the group (who was not pointed out by me at all…nope) and he was welcomed with a hearty pick-your-song. He of course declined and informed us he cannot sing. He said the dogs start rushing in when he sings and that this was a nice restaurant. He said it was going to be really bad.
I raised an eyebrow. You see he was not the first to make this claim and will not be the last. For those, we have a poem:
I'm not the pheasant plucker
I'm the pheasant plucker's mate
and I'm only plucking pheasants 'cause the pheasant plucker's late
I'm not the pheasant plucker
I'm the pheasant plucker's son
and I'm only plucking pheasants till the pheasant pluckers come
This must be repeated 5 times and as fast as possible.
Now keep in mind that the lubrication of the lips has already taken place. Well, the 40 something super geek started reading it and did very well the first round, however what he doesn’t know is that we egg him on to read it faster anyhow. The second round he read a slight bit faster and only phlucked a few words. The from then on, he didn’t really increase the speed of the reading as much as the volume of the reading in this very nice older steak house. The words became more jumbled and everyone (including other 70-90 year olds dining that were not part of our group) started harrasing him. By the time he reached the last round, he was screaming at the top of his lungs “I AM NOT A PLEASANT PHUCKER, I AM A PEASANT PLUCKER’S SON, AND I’M ONLY PLUCKING PHEASANTS TILL THE PLEASANT PHUCKER COMES!” When all was said and done, the entire place erupted in applause.
I am not sure we will ever be allowed back in there.
So, after we left the restaurant I headed back to the hotel bar. I again call QueenSuchandSuch to let her know I was very inibriated and having a TERRIBLE time in the Clearwater meeting. She was looking for an out of our conversation and was thankful when her Mom called her.
So, after again making sure the posted hours for the bar were correct, I went to bed and passed out. I forgot to drink my water…(yesterday’s point).
So I was awaken by the telephone slamming my ear drums around in my head. Wow, that phone is loud. I reach over and knock it to the floor thus stopping that deafening ring. About 2 minutes later I hear the beep beep beep of the phone being off the hook in concert speakers stereo surround sound. Again, not pleased, I finally throw my feet on the floor, hang up the phone and crawl out of bed. The hangover. I knew it was bad when I could actually hear my feet walking across the carpet floor.
I feared the worse that if I drank a glass of water, I would be drunk again…in the meeting. I showered, dressed, and headed downstairs. When I finally arrived (slightly late) the entire room looked at me and started laughing. I again checked to see if I was standing in my underwear and forgot to put on pants. Yes! They were on…shirt, check; shoes, check. What was it? Then it hit me. I showered and dried my hair…but never did the push to get my hair back down. I am sure it was because I could hear and feel my hair.
Yep. I officially looked hung over. It was a bad one too. Eyes not quite open, hair mussed, clothes not fully ironed, you can just tell. Not quite the walk of shame, but you can definitely tell.
This brings me to my point (as I almost always have one). Drink water BEFORE going to sleep. I know it is the same point as it was yesterday, but I can not stress it enough. OK, I have to figure out a way to make my keyboard quieter.
In yesterdays blog I mentioned the group meeting I am attending and the terrible way a bunch of middle aged men all want to go skateboarding. I may have left that part out. Anyway, men as a rule lose all logic when it comes to alcohol and the male bonding ceremony. This is another reason why there are fewer men in the world than women. I digress.
So there was a vendor dinner last night…no we did not eat the vendor. A vendor dinner is when the companies at the meeting take everyone somewhere to eat which is often accompanied by the illustrious “song book.” Well, of course there were a few new people and the standard initiation into the “club” is to sing out of the book. So a coworker from my office was a virgin to the group (who was not pointed out by me at all…nope) and he was welcomed with a hearty pick-your-song. He of course declined and informed us he cannot sing. He said the dogs start rushing in when he sings and that this was a nice restaurant. He said it was going to be really bad.
I raised an eyebrow. You see he was not the first to make this claim and will not be the last. For those, we have a poem:
I'm not the pheasant plucker
I'm the pheasant plucker's mate
and I'm only plucking pheasants 'cause the pheasant plucker's late
I'm not the pheasant plucker
I'm the pheasant plucker's son
and I'm only plucking pheasants till the pheasant pluckers come
This must be repeated 5 times and as fast as possible.
Now keep in mind that the lubrication of the lips has already taken place. Well, the 40 something super geek started reading it and did very well the first round, however what he doesn’t know is that we egg him on to read it faster anyhow. The second round he read a slight bit faster and only phlucked a few words. The from then on, he didn’t really increase the speed of the reading as much as the volume of the reading in this very nice older steak house. The words became more jumbled and everyone (including other 70-90 year olds dining that were not part of our group) started harrasing him. By the time he reached the last round, he was screaming at the top of his lungs “I AM NOT A PLEASANT PHUCKER, I AM A PEASANT PLUCKER’S SON, AND I’M ONLY PLUCKING PHEASANTS TILL THE PLEASANT PHUCKER COMES!” When all was said and done, the entire place erupted in applause.
I am not sure we will ever be allowed back in there.
So, after we left the restaurant I headed back to the hotel bar. I again call QueenSuchandSuch to let her know I was very inibriated and having a TERRIBLE time in the Clearwater meeting. She was looking for an out of our conversation and was thankful when her Mom called her.
So, after again making sure the posted hours for the bar were correct, I went to bed and passed out. I forgot to drink my water…(yesterday’s point).
So I was awaken by the telephone slamming my ear drums around in my head. Wow, that phone is loud. I reach over and knock it to the floor thus stopping that deafening ring. About 2 minutes later I hear the beep beep beep of the phone being off the hook in concert speakers stereo surround sound. Again, not pleased, I finally throw my feet on the floor, hang up the phone and crawl out of bed. The hangover. I knew it was bad when I could actually hear my feet walking across the carpet floor.
I feared the worse that if I drank a glass of water, I would be drunk again…in the meeting. I showered, dressed, and headed downstairs. When I finally arrived (slightly late) the entire room looked at me and started laughing. I again checked to see if I was standing in my underwear and forgot to put on pants. Yes! They were on…shirt, check; shoes, check. What was it? Then it hit me. I showered and dried my hair…but never did the push to get my hair back down. I am sure it was because I could hear and feel my hair.
Yep. I officially looked hung over. It was a bad one too. Eyes not quite open, hair mussed, clothes not fully ironed, you can just tell. Not quite the walk of shame, but you can definitely tell.
This brings me to my point (as I almost always have one). Drink water BEFORE going to sleep. I know it is the same point as it was yesterday, but I can not stress it enough. OK, I have to figure out a way to make my keyboard quieter.
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