The Unbearable Patheticness of Being (Me)

So last Friday, I took out a few hours off my anti-social tendencies so I can join Mabie in celebrating a communal day of misery.

For purposes of setting a baseline, I am typically drunk halfway through one bottle of San Mig Light. That’s one fun Rio fact I openly propagate for purposes of not embarrassing myself – except openly divulging this tiny tidbit has caused me more embarrassment than anything else (it’s counterproductive, I know.). The thing is some of my friends can’t seem to wrap their minds around the “Rio has the alcohol tolerance of a two year old” rule and therefore express severe disgust at my liver’s inability to process alcoholic beverages. Don’t get me wrong though, I’ve been extremely inebriated (smashed, sloshed, and soused) before. As a general rule, I only get smashed drunk within a 50 meter radius of my house/Ayee’s or Kat’s house for safety reasons. My sanity’s safety. Because if there’s anything I believe about drinking, it’s In Vino Veritas. I’m not only loud, I become unforgivably tactless and very stupid.

Meanwhile, Mabie the Princess issued a Royal Princess Mandate and ordered me to down a tequila-based drink. It was nice enough to forget the nefarious alcohol hiding behind the pomelo liqueur and I finished it. Thirty minutes later, my head was going *tugs tugs tugs* and I was not only being louder, I was being loopier. The Princess bought me two more drinks, but I had to beg off of them since a.) I didn’t want to spill my guts on an unsuspecting gutter and/or an equally unsuspecting bus seatmate, and b.) I didn’t want to sleep on a random bangketa.

Anyway, Rem graciously drove me home with The Cardigans and The Beatles in the background (and Mabie in the backseat). It was a nice night, all things considered, though I know what Kat and Ayee would have said, “Chichan, bakit ka pa kasi uminom?”

Good question.