I spend a lot of time alone now, and much of the time I’m quite content. However, there are some days (like today) where I crave a little social interaction. Lucky for me, today is Saturday at the nudist park.
I just popped up to the pool and as usual, several people are there enjoying a cocktail and good conversation. This time of year is a little chilly for naked, leaving me wondering what to expect on a chilly night in October.
Me: Anything happening tonight?
Stuart: Pajama party.
Score. I love pajama parties. I haven’t been to one since I was six, which makes the prospect of this one even more exciting. What’s awesome is, I would wear pajamas everywhere if it were socially acceptable, and still do even though it’s not. That’s right.
“Socially acceptable” is just a term like “potato” or “mullet”. It’s fun to say, but you really can’t live your life by it. Probably. I don’t know. I’ve been drinking. Don’t even listen to me, but maybe you should. It’s possible I’m saying something important. Hold on a second.
As it turns out, I’m not saying anything important. I went back and read the entire thing and couldn’t find one relevant thing. That happens when I’ve had a couple. Let me start over.
Actually, I’m missing the party and now being rude, so I have to go. Wish me luck. Do I look fat in these pajama pants? I feel fat.
The next day…
Ohhhhhhh…. (holds head in pain) The pajama party was awesome. I drank far too much alcohol, people were feeding me shots and… smoked oysters… I think… they were delicious. I remember that much. And spinach and artichoke dip. And shots. Lots and lots of shots.
I remember most of what happened last night, or at least I think I do. If I forgot something, I wouldn’t know it. That’s how forgetting works. This much I remember.
It turns out I forgot something. When I staggered into the cabin after the party, I apparently got on Facebook and wished two people happy birthday, though it wasn’t their birthday. Just found that out, so if that’s the extent of my embarrassment, I can live with that. I’ve done way more embarrassing things than that while drunk, including peeing in an elevator.
The good news is that there are no elevators here, so I doubt history will get a repeat. I haven’t received any nasty letters, eviction notices or noticed anyone hissing at me and holding their hands in the shape of a cross, which are the usual signs I’ve been drinking the night before.
All in all, I had an awesome time, even when I smashed the door into my face when I got home.
I’ll have to read the research, but I have this theory that alcohol inhibits your ability to make good decisions, react or even perform the most basic of tasks. I’ve fallen out of my bathroom, punched myself in the penis and hit myself in the face with my door. Each of these events coincide with my having consumed several drinks. Hmmmm… does this kind of stuff happen to anyone else? I think I’m onto something here. To Google we ride.