Fade to Black
Its no secret that Im a 80’s goth depressed chick. Spent Friday night passed on my couch fading to black.
So what do you do when your depressed out of your mind and cant get off the couch? Dress up in some crazy ass 80’s outfit, go to a townie bar, and get drunk out of your mind. Whooo hoooo!
I wanna, I wanna, I wanna be Madonna.
After spending most of the day in a deep depression, I finally woke my ass up and realized I needed to get the hell out. My friend Rosie the Rigger invited me to join her posse at the local bar’s 80’s night celebration. Ahhh what to wear I thought? Never fear, once an 80’s goth chick, always an 80’s goth chick. So, I went thought my closet and found some old raggedy fishnets, my bright pink vintage 80’s converse, a lace top with camisole and voila. Add some old rhinestone crosses and 80’s Madonna rosary and I was an 80’s mod diva! While I was getting dressed I drank two glasses of wine, then drove to Rosie the Riggers house to fix up my hair and make-up.
Two 80’s Geeks and a Computer Nerd
At Rosies house I drank a wine cooler, did my eyes all Suzie and the Banshees style, and feathered and teased out my bangs. Rosie had a black velvet club get-up and did her hair all poofy and 80’s. Funny thing is, Rosie and I used to be friends in the 80’s so dressed up like that kinda brough about an old familiarity. My computer geek friend David (also Rosie’s neighbor) joined us for the celebration. David wore a Jeff Spicolli style Hawaiian shirt, but other than that, looked pretty normal.
Like the 80’s but Drunker!
We get to the bar and they have some DJ playing 80’s songs like O.M.D, Wham! and my favorite Duran Duran. Among the sailors and other townies was a generous sprinkling of other geeks dressed in costume. Here I get a tab, and began drinking double tall vodka red-bulls. Buzz starts kickin in pretty quick. I slam two drinks and begin mingling among the crowd. Without my glasses on, and wearing beer goggles instead, I have a hard time recognizing people. Everyone kinda blurs together. This is fine by me, because then I always have an excuse for not saying hi to someone. We mingle, run into old high school people, then hit the dance floor and dance to some crazy 80’s shizzat. I slam 3 more drinks by this point (mind you, I haven’t eaten all day due to my earlier depression) so I’m starting to feel really funky! I’m freakin with some guy to 80’s crap, I’m mingling with townies in the bar, and I’m slamming more, and more drinks.
Three Sheets to the Wind
Now things start to get a little blurry. Note to self…. Eat before you go out drinking. Another note to self… pace yourself while drinking and drink lots, and lots of water. All of these notes were overlooked by me, as I’m slamming drinks Tom Waits style. Toward the end of the night, my memory starts to get a little patchy. Its like watching a movie with bits and pieces, that cut sharply between scenes. No continual memory. I suppose I was pretty fucking wasted. I remember dirty dancing on the dance floor, I remember giving a kiss to my friend Anton, I remember flirting with a guy I have known since kindergarten. But I really don’t remember too much. What the hell, I was completely shitfaced, and probably acting a bit like a fool.
David walks home, Rosie and I get picked up by her sister and taken back to her house. We party there for a bit with some male townies we picked up and I’m drinking some more. I don’t really remember much at this point, it’s more blurry fragmented memories. I didn’t sleep with anyone, or do anything I regret. But I was sure as shit out of my mind drunk.
The next day I woke up at Rosie’s sister’s house very, very thirsty. Then I started spinning and spent the rest of the afternoon praying to the porcelain god. Since my car was at Rosie’s, I went back to her house to so I could go home. The spinning doesn’t stop… I’m so sick I can hardly walk or see. David sees me walking around the corner, and I crawl to his cave to hide. I’m too sick to drive, too sick to do anything. I pass out on David’s mattress and sleep for another few hours. In between this, I run to the bathroom and puke my guts out. David stayed by my side and cared for me like a true friend. Thank you baby! So that was my depressed and drunk ass weekend. Whooo-hoooo!
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"The mark of an immature man is that he would die knobly for a cause. The mark of a mature man is that he would live humbly for one" - Catcher in the Rye -WARNING WRITER SPELLING CHALLENGED! But Sometimes you have to say "what the fuck!"
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