Monday, September 6, 2010

The Horns of the Dilemma

Here's the kind of question we ask ourselves in the Colestin: if a guest wakes up with a massive black eye, the direct result of extreme overindulgence crossed with gravity, was the party a success or a failure? A bunch of boys held the Testosterone Olympics in the meadow this weekend. The moonshine came out in the middle of the afternoon. There was much smoking of substances and cooking of meat, followed by cigars and more drinking, capped off by a semi-conscious header into the creek in the middle of the night. Yup, that's a party alright. I may have to revive talks of a liability waiver. Just kidding; my beloved friends and family are all adults who take responsibility for their own choices...I hope.

I freely admit, the meadow encourages this kind of behavior. Nobody's driving anywhere, so you might as well drink. As Ed put it, our place has the "fuck it" factor, as in "let's go to town...naw, fuck it." There ain't a lot to do but sit around the fire and imbibe. Although, really, what's better than that?

My falling down drunk days are behind me (thank the goddess), but I don't begrudge them in others. When I used to drink, my hangovers where so vile and violent, I literally thought I was going to die. It was no fun anymore and, if it ain't fun, what's the point? Nobody drinks for their health. But, if it's still fun for you, mazel tov says I. Park the car and have at it; just have a story ready for the wife when you show up in the morning hangdog, hungover and sporting a huge shiner.

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