In drinking years, I belong to AARP

So I'm hungover today. I fail at not drinking, although to be fair:

1) It wasn't even that much
2) I drank a lot of water in between
3) It was Saturday

So this morning my head was like "You need to keep sleeping BUT I'm going to hurt so you can't, haha!"

And then I was like "Well, fuck you then, I'm going to take some Advil," but my stomach was like "Not if you want to keep it down" and I knew it meant it, so I just had bacon instead. But then my stomach was like "I'm hungry/I'm full/Drink juice/Ack, nono not juice!" and honestly it's just a little ridiculous.

I think they need to lower the legal drinking age to 18 or 19, and I don't care about all the "real" reasons people always cite when debating the point. It needs to be a thing because face it, your years of being able to drink-drink are pretty limited. It would be like if you had to be 30 before you could play professional football - your peak's been wasted. Just like athletes set their career records in their 20s (at least, I assume they do, honestly I don't care about sports so I'm not sure) all of your crazy drinking stories happen when you're young. Once you pass 25, you will never again drink from a funnel or a comically oversized boot glass, shotgun a warm Heineken (so at least there is that silver lining), or even be able to hear the word "fireline" without instantly throwing up in your mouth.

After 25, You'll play beirut (beer pong for those of you that are doing it wrong) in a desperate attempt at a college throwback, and secretly dump most of the beer into the bushes when no one is looking. You'll have to take shots in two gulps and then rub your stomach for ten minutes before even thinking about taking another sip of your beer. You'll buy a 30-rack of beer when your friends come over, only to discover 22 cans of it still sitting on your back porch when you dig out the snow shovels 7 months later. You'll actually have the same bottle of whiskey in your house for so long it starts to taste better eventually. Or maybe you won't do any of those things, but I do and this isn't really your blog anyway, is it?

When I was somewhere around 22, the hubby (then bf) and I split a bottle of absinthe with maybe three or four friends, and we killed it by 10am the next day with the old hair of the dog shot. Now I can't even look at a bottle of that green shit in the liquor store without wanting to vomit and take a nap (not simultaneously, that would be dangerous - I know this because the mandatory "welcome to college, please don't die this semester" freshman class told me so).

Now it's like, someone mentions that whole "hair of the dog" thing and I'm like "omg are you joking? I am never drinking again" which is always completely 100% true. It's just that sometimes, "again" just means "today".

It's hard to accept being drinking-old though, especially when I'm still young for all other purposes. Sometimes I still buy a six-pack of beer thinking I'm going to drink it all on my day off, and instead I watch Netflix and then go to bed at 11. I drink nothing but bottled water all day, or, if I'm feeling adventurous and the expiration date is approaching, maybe I'll go wild and have a glass of milk.

I remember meeting people who were in their mid-20s to early 30s when I was 22 (I feel like I was 22 for like 5 years, is that weird? It's like when I tell stories about when I was a kid and in every single one I'm like "so I was like 11, and...") and anyway, they would tell me how they don't really party anymore, and I'd think they were boring people who didn't like to have fun. I thought of my drinking future in the exact same way that I thought about Disney World when I was a kid, like "Wow, I really hope that when I'm older I will still want to go to Disney World... I hope I don't decide it's lame and only for little kids," except it was more like "I hope when I'm nearing thirty I still think it's fun to play Asshole until I pass out in my chair... I hope I don't decide it's lame and only for college kids" And all I can say in response to that is "well, at least I still do want to go to Disney World."

Maybe the saddest part is that just when I've finally retained knowledge of the rules to drinking card games into the next day, I'm at the stage of my life where being the one that gets fucked by the table actually is kind of a bad thing. (If you didn't get that reference, you probably never played cards with a joker as the 5 of hearts on a coffee table with Jack Daniels ripples in it, and you have no idea what you missed out on.)

I don't know exactly when it happened, but sometime after my 25th birthday, "going out for a few beers" actually became a literal thing and not a downplayed euphemism for getting shitfaced. Sometimes, when you're young, "a few" means "a lot" - usually on the same days that "again" means "today".

I just realized this blog is full of vomit references and random tangents but it is about drinking, so I think it's perfectly appropriate and I'm not changing it. Also, I'm lazy. You're lucky I blogged at all. I pretty much only bothered because my Chromebook was already on my living room couch and the Game of Thrones facebook game wouldn't load.

I think there's also a possibility that I'm being pessimistic about my drinking abilities because I was up until 5am and slept on a couch with my earrings still on, because none of this in any way diminishes my desire to go to Mardi Gras in New Orleans next year.

So I guess what I'm saying is that I am officially drinking-old, but that doesn't mean I'm ready to drinking-retire. I think I'm up for the beerquivalent of bagging groceries in my old-man orthopedic shoes ten hours a week for something to do. Maybe I'll even wink at the cute vodka bottle working the checkout register.

Party Crashers

No, I don't mean hitting up a party you weren't invited to - does anyone even do that after high school? What I'm talking about is those parties where your best friend should totally hide your keys, but both of you are too drunk to remember where you put them down, anyway. Putting off the search until the morning, where you will undoubtedly find them in either the freezer (Oh yeah! Totally left them there when I was looking for ice cream!) or in the toilet tank (Nope, no idea how they got there) is your only option.

But if proper protocol isn't followed, even one night crashing at a friend's house can lead to a situation as heated as if LiLo and Taylor Swift decided to be roommates. (Can you imagine that? "LINDSAY THAT'S FOR MY HOMEMADE SNOWGLOBES, STOP TRYING TO SNIFF IT!")

Now, you don't want that. I don't want that. And Ringo here definitely doesn't want that. So how can you avoid ruining your friendship during a booze-induced sleepover? Luckily, I've compiled some handy rules for crashing after a party:

1.) Poppin' Bottles Under no circumstances should you open a bottle of liquor you didn't bring, unless you have permission from the party host. Your drunk ass can't tell the difference between Smirnoff and Granddad's vintage scotch at this point, so don't gamble.

2.) Four more shots of Patron, don't give a fuck about goin' home Of course you don't, but shots of Patron (and other pricey liquors) are not for solitary consumption. Don't do a shot of these liquors alone - it's rude to the other party guests, but more importantly, it offends the liquor commercial gods.

3.) Been drinkin' too much for sure Yeah, we know. That's why you will be provided with a shopping-bag lined wastebasket next to your bed/couch/floor spot. In the event of an involuntary expelling of your stomach contents, every effort should be made to reach the toilet, but if it's not possible, use the basket.

4.) If the cops roll up, poor the cops a cup Seriously, don't do this. Are you fucking crazy? Promise to turn down the music and lock the door.

5.) Take a genius to understand me Here's the deal: We all pinky-swear to each other's grandiose "plans" for tomorrow, agree that together we could solve all the world's problems, and then tomorrow we pretend the whole conversation never happened. Bringing up last night's crazy scheme to scale the Rockies and then run for Congress over this morning's plate of International Pancakes is considered a party foul.

6.) Pictures of last night ended up online Don't be a dick. You absolutely cannot, under any circumstances, post pictures from this party on Facebook, unless you have the express consent of every person in the picture. No exceptions.

7.) Sorry for party rocking That's all well and good, but if you urinate anywhere besides the bathroom, we are no longer friends.

8.) You, sir, do not have a pair of testicles if you prefer drinkin' from glass While this may or may not be true, remember that no one is going to get pissed at you for cracking a solo cup, even if beer does "run down the front of [your] pack".

9.) I got the mooooooooves like Jagger No, you don't. If, during the course of your intoxication, you believe that you do, you agree that any demonstrations to that effect are subject to videotaping, but as far as sharing goes, see Rule #6 and remember that permission obtained from a drunk person is not really permission any more than a compliment from a drunk person means you really do look like Megan Fox/Ryan Gosling.

10.) In the morning, buy me eggs Depending on when and in what state of terrible hangover we all wake up, we may elect to go to breakfast together. This is completely fine and not considered an overstay of your welcome, but remember that offers to come back and maybe catch a movie after breakfast are just kind, empty gestures. We all just want to go crawl back into bed until it's dark out, so please don't take this away from your gracious party hosts.

And that's it! Obviously I can't predict every possible bit of assholery you might get into, but hopefully this handy list will help you (or your party guests) keep the basics straight. We all want to have fun, but nobody wants to spend the day after the party cleaning bodily fluids and watching The Rules of Attraction with you, no matter how much we might love you. Remember that, and I'm sure you'll be back next weekend! (Bring a bottle this time, you fucking cheapskate.)