I know that if I wasn’t drunk right now, I would be really really angry with Joey. There are guys who get mad, fight, yell, and break things when they are drunk. They are the “mean” drunks. I’m not that guy. When sober, I can be brought to the point where I yell, but only if I’m very very angry. When I’m drunk, well, I don’t do any of those things, ever, like never.
I was at a bar with my sister one time, a while back.
There were three men wearing matching horizontal striped golf shirts with white backgrounds, all standing together.
Drunk me looks at my sister, Tiffany, and says: “look at those three guys who came to the bar wearing matching golf shirts.”
Drunk Tiffany chuckles a little and asks: “should we do something about it?”
“Yeah, you should go over there and tell them because they probably don’t know what they’ve done wrong, and this would be a good learning moment for them.”
Tiffany, a level 20 extrovert walks over to the three men without a hint of fear in her heart and says: “I just thought you guys should know that you’re wearing matching golf shirts. I wouldn’t want you to be embarrassed.”
The alpha dog in the group who was clearly as smart as a dog says: “fuck you, you fucking stupid bitch.”
Tiffany retreats, and I walk up to the group and say: “what did you say to my sister?”
Alpha dog brains returns with: “I told that fucking stupid bitch that she’s a fucking stupid bitch.”
Drunk me with a fairly neutral expression and only a sense of curiosity says: “well, why on earth would say that? That’s just mean.”
Dog brains says: “she said we were wearing matching golf shirts. They don’t match.” Now while pointing to his shirt, “these are medium stripes.” He points to his friend’s shirt, “these are thicker stripes and a different brand name.” He points to his other friend’s shirt: “these are brown stripes, not blue like mine.”
In that moment, it struck me that he didn’t really understand the meaning of the word matching when it came to clothing. That made me laugh, and I uncontrollably laughed and pointed at the three of them, half bent over from the chuckles.
That’s just me when I’m drunk. I find the funny and ignore the rest.
Huh, I think I’m starting to remember who I was, who I am.