Never Trust a Drunken Heath….

Posted: June 18, 2012 in Getting Drunk with Heath
Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Saturday night, a night that will forever live in infamy.  Two words:  Party Bus.  Party Busses are the devil, especially when you are a naturally competitive person like me.  Now, couple that with a frugal mindset, and you have a recipe for destruction.  Why?  Well it’s simple.  When the bus doors close and the music starts blaring, I made my first bad decision.  I started thinking in a fiscal mindset.  I thought that the beers on the bus are paid for; the beers in the bar are not.  So, I needed to drink as fast and furiously as possible the free beers and that way I would not drink at all in the bar.  This is a sound philosophy on paper only—like communism.  This philosophy would work if a drunken man had self discipline.  All that really happens is I drink fast and furiously in the bus all the free beers I can, and then in the bar, I drink fast and furiously all the not free drinks I can.  Add those two together and you have a tall, stumbling, fumbling, ginger man that should not be allowed out. 

My saving grace is all owed to a woman who was attending a Male Review two hours away.  At around eleven o’clock, I placed a call to Whitney and she began distance babysitting.  Because I don’t drink to this extent, we were in uncharted territory.  She called me a cab, but apparently I went military on the cab driver and evaded capture by the first one she sent.  I was too good to be caught.  See Figure 1.

 Figure 1.  Once again, my own property. 

The second one was better prepared and Whitney talked me into his van from her cell phone.  Once safely on the cab, I remember clips and phrases of the ride home.  I know this:  I live ten minutes from home and the bill was 50 dollars—better than a DUI, but still expensive.  I remember waking up from a quick nod off and seeing the meter.  I was on the phone with Whitney again.  I started belittling the cab driver about the prices.  He was an unbelievable sport and deserves an apology from me.  My wife talked me in the house and I thought I went to bed.  At some point during my slumber a poltergeist must have visited our home, because when I woke up hours later, all of the furniture was moved in the living and dining room seven inches to the left. 

These are the words of a horrible drunk.  This is a weekend where I swear off the devil’s water for good.

Here are some questions to which I fear the answers are all in the affirmative:

  1. 1.        Heath, did you pee in public?
  2. 2.        Heath, did you cry on the phone to your wife that she wasn’t getting the cab there fast enough and then elude the cab she sent, and then call her again and tell her she wasn’t working hard enough to get you home?
  3. 3.        Heath, did you wake up naked, but not go to bed naked?
  4. 4.        Heath, did you murder anyone on Saturday?
  5. 5.        Heath, did you wake up with a horrible feeling of guilt like you murdered someone on Saturday?
  6. 6.       Heath, when you went back to get your car, did it feel like you were returning to scene of a crime?
  7. 7.       Heath, did you pee twice in public?
  8. 8.       Heath, did you knowingly try to drink more than all the other riders on the bus combined.
  9. 9.       Heath, do you still feel like a bucket of smashed assholes?
  10. 10.   Heath, would you be dead today if Whitney didn’t kick ass and take names?

Whitney, I owe you more in return for taking care of me than I give you, but I make this promise, when that baby comes a walloping out of your stomach, you can go out and get piss drunk, evade a cab, pee in public (which you’re already good at), come home, move the furniture, and wake up oblivious to it all.  I will be here for you and like the last time, I will put on the Tina Turner story movie and let you stay in bed all day.  You’re my hero.  I just wanted you to know, because I have been holding it in for years….

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Comments
  1. Andrew says:

    I try this every time I go out. Pre-party a bit (a few shots or a 12 pack, whatever) to save money. Walk to the bar is great, a nice buzz going. Then I wake up outside, because apparently you’re not supposed to sleep at bars. Stupid I know.

  2. I love this story! Again, like I’ve said before, Whitney is much nicer than I. I would have hung up on Travis told him if he can’t get the first cab I called, he’s on his own. Travis doesn’t get stupid drunk often, but when he does he is quite annoying.

  3. Baz says:

    Often, these stories from FL wind up in the National News… I’m always looking for the mishaps that occur in Florida, that usually involve public disturbances (nudity/drunkeness/fighting and/or murder/redneck/gingers) Congrats Heath! I did NOT read about you in the Seattle Times on Sunday OR Monday morning. Congrats Whitney on your supreme “distance babysitting” skills!

  4. Baz says:

    Also… why is your “blog time” like 6 hours fast? Are you publishing from the mid-Atlantic?

    • haphillips says:

      Funny, but your right about us Floridians…we are crazy. And, I made every attempt possible to get arrested, but Whit was just too good. I do not get where this time zone is, but it continuously makes my readership look like crap.

  5. Hilarious, as always! Loving the blog. And loving correcting the grammar. ;p

  6. […] His drawings are so good they make me jealous, and are nearly as funny as his […]

  7. […] His drawings are so good they make me jealous, and are nearly as funny as his […]

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