In which FHC gets smashed and stuff

FHC got slightly…seriously… wasted yesterday night starting at 7:30 p.m. celebrating James B.’s visit to DC with stops to JR and Cobalt [two local bars targeting desperate gays – a rising segment of the gay market] and our office smelled like alcohol until 2 p.m. or so today. Moreover I had completely forgotten about some kind of an early meeting and arrived pretty late looking like your average alcoholic [my excuse was “Sorry I mixed alcohol with GHB, anabolic steroids and sedatives last night”]. This of course did not help our little jetlag issue or our ri”no-far”in-ji´tis and we have been completely out of it all day. The brief lightness of drunkenness always comes with a heavy price tag in my case. As another alcoholic friend of mine I had lunch with two days ago, and who will remain anonymous, once told me: “I preferred when I was on Wellbutrin, at least I would pass out in hallways after three drinks and not remember anything the day after. It’s blatantly f**ed up”.

This would usually be enough mock social life to last me for the next ten years but actually I have to get smashed once again tonight for the mandatory Wednesday night dinner which will take place at Rick H…. at least I am not cooking this evening either.

In others news, via Caroline V., nothing like French Hip-Hop to vcheer you up: you click on "akh", you click on "clip", you choose "votez".

Comments

[LL]

Notice how FHC categorizes this as "memories of youth". I'm worried that this might be a euphemism for "acting like a toddler," but I don't want to jump to conclusions. Plus, I love FHC and would hate for him to think I was being judgmental.

[FrenchBenj]

You're getting hotter and hotter. Booze and pills suit you well.