Tucker Max Drunk

29 Oct

There are nights you expects to be full of shenanigans and know the next morning you are going to regret most of your decisions. I call them rock star nights – party hard, crash hard, try to remember where you left your wallet…and panties.

Then there are the nights you intend to be a quiet outing with a few friends, innocently believing you will have a drink or two then return home at a reasonable hour so  you can discreetly fall asleep watching Netflix. Only things do not go as planned and the next morning you are jolting awake, head screaming, trying to fit the pieces together.

I refer to this as Tucker Max drunk. I don’t think TM himself would necessarily categorize such an event as such himself, but as I never achieve this level intentionally, I find it my prerogative to create the category in my personal life.

One morning on a Thursday in July, I awoke after such a night. I was late for work, clothes were strewn all over my apartment, and my body was aching in every way possible. The memories came back in flashes, but to this day I cannot recollect what inspired me to pee in the sink. Yes, dear reader, walking out into the kitchen I discovered the unmistakeable odor of urine in my sink with no clear idea of what lead to that occurrence. I bleached the shit out of everything and resolved to not drink for a week.

How did this come to be? Well, let’s start a the beginning. I have Wednesdays off and from time to time I participate in a little day drinking while I take care of things around the house (bills, laundry, cleaning, yoga, yada yada). This particular Wednesday I had indulged, but not overly…until LP came home from work. She invited me to Toby Keith’s and that was the end of that.

Drinks ensued and at some point I lost track of how many and what I was doing. LP’s friend came with us and between the two of them they got me to ride the mechanical bull at the bar as I threw back more drinks than I should have been able to ingest.

By the time we got home I was ready to crash, but I am stubborn. For some reason that night I decided I needed to pee…but not in the toilet, in the kitchen sink.

I didn’t remember the next day, but instinct knew it was me.

It was the first in a series of incidents. The sink, the dish washer, my closet…for a handful of weeks, this was my pattern and amusement.

One questions one’s motives when one gets drunk enough to justify such behaviors. And then one read the Tucker Max autobiographies. I recommend them to anyone who feels their lives have hit the toilet because this man will make you feel better about ALL of your mistakes.

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