�
1999-12-29 - 07:07:46
What is it about drunk people, or people who are drunker than you are, that is so creepy? Is it the way they talk extra loud? Or the boozy euphoria? Is it the way their movements are sorta exagerated and clumsy? What about the glassy stare? Could it be the pushy enthusiasm? The self-absorbtion? I think it's all of the above. Or whatever parts of the above most in evidence at the time.
But why does it feel so weird? I mean, even when you've been drinking, when that boozy guy comes up to you and starts talking to you, you sorta nod your head, grab his shirt as he threatens to topple over onto the coffee table, and generally wish he'd either leave or pass out or something.
Is it instinctive? "Uh oh, Grog has been eating the bad berries again. He always goes and tries to pet the saber-toothed tiger, and the damn thing chases him back to the cave. It always kills one of the little ones on it's way out." Sorta like that uneasy feeling you get around retards or nut-cases. (oops, I meant developmentally challenged and mentally ill!)
Fortunately, neither of my parents were alcoholics. My mom didn't drink, well, once in a while, and she'd get tipsy on a glass of wine or beer. (One time I called the cops on her when she was roaring drunk right after her and my dad got divorced. I was a little kid and it scared me. I didn't know what was wrong with her, so I called the Oakland cops. The ONE time she gets drunk to forget about it all, and the cops come and roust her. Poor mom. How embarassing.)
My dad usually drinks a drink or two in the evening, and that's it. At least that's how it was for years. Right after Bill died though, he was drinking quite a bit. But now that he's moved to Florida and started working for Disney World, he doesn't drink as much anymore.
Bill though, he was a drunk. I loved him. He was my third parental unit. But hoo boy, did he drink! He was a functional drunk though. He got up and went to work...pretty much every day. He managed the meat market in a grocery store. He was a butcher, so that means after drinking probably a fifth of vodka and getting shit-faced, he'd get up at six in the morning, go to work and use razor sharp knives and a scary-ass electric band saw to cut up meat all day in a big cooler. How did he do that?
I once lived with a woman who was an alcoholic too. That relationship lasted six months. I couldn't take it anymore and I left her. Carol'd get bombed and play music really loud when I was trying to sleep. On a week night. Talk about a glassy stare. Boy, was she sweet when she was sober. But, what a bitch when she was drunk. The clumsy movements with her were the worst though. She broke nearly every single glass I owned. She'd go to set her glass down on the table, and boom! She'd hit table so hard the glass would break. Imagine, an entire set of crystal glassware (they were a gift!), like 32 pieces, I think there were two wine glasses left.
I used to be a bookbinder. The bindery where I worked was family owned. The old man, Roland, used to come back from lunch every day at Martini's drunk as hell. He'd cuss and swear (French Canadian, I loved the way he said "FOCK!" with such vehemence) and take over a project and just screw it up, so the rest of us would have to fix it, diplomatically, so he wouldn't get pissed at us. Louis (loo eee) his son, would sometimes come back from lunch drunk too. He'd become a bastard too. He had what I call the "heavy hand of the drunk", like Carol. I'd know he was drunk, 'cause when he'd move stuff around on the work tables he bump and bang things around to beat the band. How annoying.
I'm a pretty good drinker myself. I drink more than I should. Believe me, I'm not proud. Frankly, it scares me. Booze scares me. Alcoholism scares me. I hate it, and I'm terrified of becoming an alky. And I know this, I couldn't live with another alcoholic. I got enough trouble trying to keep myself sober. In fact, if I had my way, I wouldn't even keep booze in the house. I never did when I lived alone. I'd only buy enough to drink in one or two sittings. Or if I was having guests.
Cheers!
***************
�
So, how do you like them apples?