I woke up this morning with a splitting headache.
More specifically, I had a splitting hangover. I NEVER get drunk, because to get drunk, one would have to drink. Since I drink about one beer a month, you can see where I’d be a little confused about how I came to be in this agony.
I went to a New Year’s Eve party at one of my Dad’s friend’s house out in lovely Conyers, Ga. My host is notorious for his parties, and I snagged an invite this year. It was really a stunning affair, and I’m damn happy to have gone.
Just so you can get a taste of the atmo at the party…
The buffet:
- BBQ pork and brunswick stew – some of the best I’ve ever had, and I’ve eaten my share over the years.
- Pastrami, corned beef, and roast beef – ordered from a deli in NY.
- Escargot
- About 20 lbs of lobster tails, swimming in garlic and butter.
- Shrimp, with some of my Dad’s infamous cocktail sauce
The food was definatly first rate, but the alcohol was the real story. I was slamming back big glasses of $60 a bottle cabernet, apparently with no concern about the amount I was knocking back.
Around 11:30, my new buddy Ed reccomended to the host that the fellas should be drinking the good cognac. I’m not a huge brandy drinker, but I figured what the hell, we’ve been drinking $60 wine, smoking $20 stogies, and scarfing lobster by the pound – why not go all the way?
Next thing I know, I’m pouring from a THREE HUNDRED DOLLAR BOTTLE of 1970 Armanac. Holy crap, batman…that’s some high living. At one point, I think I double-fisted some champagne with the brandy. I can’t be certain.
I know that I was D-r-u-n-k, faithful readers. Drunk off my ass and desperatly trying to not make an ass of myself. Of course, 30 minutes later, I’m part of a crowd of people singing that David Allen Coe song (you know…the “I was drunk the day my mom got out of prison” song) at the top of my lungs.
I guess if 10 people do it, you can’t call jack-assery on them.
No resolutions – I’d just break them anyway.
I’m going to bed.