What happened last night?

You're lying there on your chest and your head is arced to one side with the duvet peeled back revealing only one leg that dangles off the outside of the mattress. The arrangement of your pillow has mashed your cheek upward, pudging your right eye closed and forcing your mouth open in a way that makes you look like Sylvester Stallone. In a womans instance her eyes are black and blue, not from the beating she should have gotten for committing that black and navy fashion crime, but because her runny eye-liner has mixed with her purple eye shadow to form a visual comparison to Edward Scissorhands and or the Joker. You remain perfectly still because you know if you move, your cheek will slide down into the drool that has now caramelised on your pillow below your chin. Your eyes follow the line of your forearm as it runs from underneath the pillow to your elbow when you notice that you are wearing something white. This confuses you because you normally dont wear anything other than boxers in bed but if you do; the colour of your pajamas are light blue. You heave yourself over onto your back and look down at the rest of your body and you realise that you are in the same clothes that you wore last night, shoes and all (there is something truly horrible about wearing jeans in bed). It is at this very moment when you ask yourself; 'What happened last night?'. As you try to piece together the puzzle, you constantly revert to the last memory you have of doing shots of blue and red aftershock at the bar, but there-after is a complete and utter blur. You cant remember how you got home, what time you fell in at, who was there or even which nightclub you were in. You reach to that standard place where you put your keys, wallet and phone before going to bed only to realise that your wallet isnt there. In a lady's case, she scrambles through her bag pushing aside all of her lip gloss, Mac make-up and mandatory bottle of bag-fume (Deco'ism - perfume that is small enough to fit in a hand-bag) trying to find her phone only to be struck with the realisation that she has lost her purse. You find your phone and you have 13 missed calls from 2 of your closest friends together with a string of text messages that start with 'Where are you?' (This indicates that you have disappeared and your friends couldnt find you in the night club). The next few messages say something along the lines of ; 'You really shouldnt drink vodka and red bull anymore' (this indicates that you've done something you should be ashamed of)and the freshest text in your inbox reads something like- 'let me know you got home ok' (they've given up looking and can only hope you have waltzed into a taxi and are on your way home)... Upon reading these you decide to call your friend to find out what on earth happened last night. Your friend answers the phone and you hear them laughing at you before they even say hello. This immediately confirms that you have done something ridiculous; then they begin to innumerate the things that you so stupidly indulged in such as: drunkenly telling the person you fancy that you think they are the best thing since sliced bread; had a blazing argument with your boy/girlfriend because it appears like they are flirting with someone taller, darker and generally more handsome/beautiful all night long (this is what Dutch wants you to think); Or when you do something as cringe-worthy as try it on with your best friend and get rejected. Another good one is when you're so drunk that the bouncers have just said enough is enough and they ask you to leave - you, in your drunken state completely refute what they are saying while demanding that you are perfectly sober. This develops into a display of rioting craziness as the bouncers begin to escort you out of the building while you are roaring in their face something completely out of character like; "IM GOING TO GET TO YOU SHOT!" or in the 'common' womans case shes screaming; "GET YOUR PERVERTED HANDS OFF ME!" - the completely hilarious part of the latter is when the bouncers have finally ejected her from the club and she is standing outside mouthing away when she suddenly has one of those everlasting falls due to the height of her heels; She stumbles at first with her legs wobbling all over the place as if shes a newborn baby calf, then she regains her balance but only for a split second before running backward into the ground and onto her nackerish arse. One of the more common reasons you make a complete arse of yourself is when you see the person you fancy, kissing someone else - you start by feeling sorry for yourself and then you move to being angry at the world all before walking outside and punching a brick wall in a display of 'manliness'. With ladies however they might just get compulsively upset, but her friends can normally cheer her up by inviting her to the bar for shots and by continually telling her that shes beautiful and amazing (they're lying to you, if the guy doesnt like you then IT IS because you look like something from middle-earth). The funny thing is that if you were sober, you probably wouldnt give a crap. I woke up in the above-type predicament one glorious Saturday morning. It had been my 19th birthday and my friends brought me to a run down old-mans bar in the middle of Parnell Square. I was on the budweiser buzz back then and I was sinking them to beat the band (When people say this, do they frantically ambush an orchestra with a baseball batt?). In any case, in our youth, the only shot we were able to drink was Zambucka. Immediate regret entered my head after ordering a round of Zambuckas when I saw the elder bar-man taking the bottle off the radiator. Even though you're meant to drink Zambucka aflame - there is something quite mouldy about drinking it fresh off the musk of a warm heater. We held our breaths for the rest of the night as many more went down the hatch. The rest as they say, was history. None of us remembered what the hell happened until about 2 months later when I received a summons in the post. I opened the envelope and continued to read: "The alleged was seen to pull down 3 hanging baskets on O'Connell street and then proceeded to kick the wheel off a push-bicycle before launching it into the air towards Cleary's shop front shutters. The alleged was then spotted by CCTV 7 minutes later crossing gratten bridge carrying 5 safety rings that he had untied from the Quay walls; one around his neck and two around each arm. When the alleged finished running around like a 4 year old marshmallow man, he decided to dispose of the rings by throwing them into the River liffey in what can only be assumed as an act of irony. When the alleged was approached by the An Garda Siochana and asked for his name and identification, he advised that was not carrying any. When the alleged was asked for his home telephone number so his parents could be contacted, he subsequently burst into tears begging for us not to call his father. With that he quickly produced his Age Card that clearly stated his name as being Declan Greene and not He-Man, The Master of the Universe" - Instantly I got on the phone to 3 other friends who I knew were with me that night who confirmed they too, had gotten similar notifications. Another occasion I dont recall is when I engaged in a debate with a friend over how 'sound' Ban Garda are - that sentiment being the last memory of that particular night; I woke up the next morning with indented lines on one side of my face and my jaw was quite sore; It transpired that in my efforts to prove just how 'cool' they are, I asked for a picture with one of them, to which she gladly obliged; the line however was apparently crossed when I tried to kiss her on the cheek as she wrestled me to the ground and pressed my face into the wooden ridges of the Liffey boardwalk and calmly told me, that I had drank enough and it was time to go home. Thankfully however she let me away with a warning. I often hear; "I dont remember a thing last night" - to which someone usually responds; "WEll it must have been a good night then"..... What does that even mean? Oh, a good night consists of completely forgetting everything? I dont know - its always nice though when you wake up and after having realised that you have lost your wallet or purse, that you were so drunk before you even left the house, that you completely forgot to bring it in the first place (its lying on the floor under your bed). SWEET - but how often are we that lucky?...

Bottomline no 15; There is a line, in most cases its rarely going to benefit you to cross it

Next post: The Munchies

Slan mo Chara,

Deco