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Jess' 80's party last saturday; those damned camcorder tapes (update part 1 of 2)

2005-04-07 - 11:50 p.m.

This dying week was like the speed of sound: cracking click-clack by at swallowing speeds, all in an auditorium of thick silence.

Last saturday was an 80's night party hosted by Jess. You could either go black tie or in a hawaiian shirt and flip-flops. You can guess what I opted for. After walking a mile and a quarter there, I chatted with Becks, Jess, and a few others that'd arrived for the pre-party preparations. The core friends..or really the core of the clinical area. Clinical psych people just bunch together, don't know why.

Anyway, I'd arrived on time and gradually people filtered in. Many conversations were had at different stages of fucked-up-edness. At one point I was doing my witty clever thing with a circle group of 6 people. Later on it was a heated conversation with a young M.D. and Lindsay's boyfriend. My work came up and for some reason both of them seemed fascinated. M.D. Dude seemed fascinated by the link between cellular inflammation and mental disorders. It was cool talking to someone who know the background. At one point he suggested I take a pathology class. Sure it'd be with 3rd year medical students, but I'm not a glutton for easy.

Lemme see..then there was talking at length with Xtian's girlfriend, Jenny, about a subject I can't remember. I don't quite know why but we seem to find some mutually cool topic to yak about for many minutes on end. Oh, actually I think it was my research (again). She thought it was cool and gave some pretty insightful ideas about stuff to look at. After 30 minutes of that there was more tequila...and alot of dancing...and more tequila still...and then finally deciding to kinda sorta introduce myself to Ren, a 2nd year grad student who looks so much like Erin it frankly astounds me.

And wouldn't you know it but I want to get to know her better. I don't make up the rules of whom I'm attracted to. Wish I could.

Now to get me talking in large groups of people and with alot of people, I need booze. Steady booze. And oh my fuck: I had never had that much to drink in my life.

At the final count, it'd been:

1) 6 shots of tequila fed to me by Jess at different intervals (since people kept asking me about my research, and apparently whenever you talked about your work you got a shot...). She and a few others did 'em with me so I wasn't the only fucked up pony.

2) Two cups of Sangria, complete with saturated fruit

3) One 3/4 cup of Mohito

4) Two rum and cokes

5) Something else. Oh. Yeah. Vodka and something.

And y'know what? It was only the last two tequila shots back to back that really weren't a good idea. The lack of control wasn't so bad at first, but then some shred of my conscious mind realized that I couldn't keep a hold of anything. It was like shouting down a mile long hallway, at myself. At one point I suddenly knew I had to get rid of some of this alcohol. I couldn't so much wait for the bathroom, so I shuffled over to the sink and did that pre-vomit sortof dribbling slight panting deal. I was slightly good for several minutes after that.

Funny enough this was the first time where I didn't mind making a peace offering to the porcelain god. I basically got rid of the last two shots of tequila (which just happened to look like sangria and whatever else was mixing in my stomach).

By the end I was trying to stabilize myself, but it was no good: I was off fucking kilter. Oh I could still walk and talk fairly well, but the entire world was just this..thing where I couldn't make out what direction meant what. Blurry whatnot. Many times wondering if my body had stretched out.

Thankfully Becks had a car and was willing to drive my ass and some other drunk bastards. I had the feeling I'd looked too far gone. And I felt it. I walked up the stairs slowly, carefully, unlocked my door, threw off my clothes, hit the bed, and was gone in under 60 seconds.

I come to hear from Xtian tonight that someone alleges my letting loose in the kitchen sink. This was not so. I sputtered some bile against various dishes in the kitchen sink. What I did do was gently threw up in the toilet, waiting calmly to do so, like any excessively drunk gentleman. Actually that's the most controlled vomiting I've ever experienced, and at the time it didn't feel bad at all. You of course wanted to know that. And now you do.

All in all the party was great fun.

[rant]

I'd needed it after that whole week of trying to get shit that the lab staff should already have known how to get.

If you can believe we still haven't been able to order those goddamned 80 minute camcorder tapes, well, we haven't. I'm negotiating with Short Circuit Citay tomorrow. Because, of course: we NEED to make a tax exempt purchase..when tax will be 15-30 bucks total.

And we can't order from the local place because they charge 12.95, while Short Circuit charges 10.95 per tape. Yeah we'll save 48 bucks, but fucking hell: I don't want to call central headquarters and be on the phone for a few hours filling out odd forms.

I'd thought leaving Dr. Zhivago's lab meant no more doing shit on the cheap. I guess it just meant not having to try doing electroshock therapy on rats anymore.

Well I was wrong. My only consolation is that there's been no complaining about getting my 450 dollar assay kits. That's the critical part. The rest of this nickel and dime shit is annoying but I'll deal.

[/rant]

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