Inebriation.

Friday night was a highly memorable one. There was an unquenchable desire to put. To get pasted and wasted and so sloshed that i reached a point where i cared about nothing and nobody. And that's exactly what happened.

It started with going to Retro with A, where i downed a Long Island, a Tommy Gun and a Mojito while venting with A about men and their stupidities and what jerks they are. Despite being male himself, A still agreed with me. Yes, he's sweet like that. :)

From Retro, we headed to Cirrus at near-closing time to meet the Gujju, where i headed straight for the bar and ordered not one, but two Strawberry Daiquiris. And i glugged them down (strangely reminding me of the Bailey's shots episode all those years back) despite their high OH content. Needless to say, i was a Swinger after that. Uncontrollable giggling, statements to Gujju's team from work that could potentially get her fired, considering her manager was also one of them (to whom i said as they were introducing themselves, taking efforts to repeat their names, "Oh don't bother so much with it, i'm not going to remember your names tomorrow morning anyway"), driving back to her place to spend the night... And in the middle of all this, wanting to orally get rid of the contents in my stomach because they were making me feel queasy.

Once at A's place, i slept almost as soon as i stepped into the house. And then i died. Till 6:30 in the morning, when i was suddenly revived by the knowledge that i hadn't called my parents the night before to tell them that i wasn't going to come home. Fully fearing that i had screwed up and expecting to see hundreds of missed calls on my phone, imagine my surprise when i saw none!

So i checked my calls log, and to my horror, i see that i have made a call to and received a call from my Dad after i had passed out. EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEK! I check my messages, and i see that i sent out a perfectly sane message to my mom when i was beyond the point of sanity. Double Eek. And i also replied to R's 1 o clock in the morning-message with "Sloshed. Staying at A's. G'nite."

The best part about all of this? I don't remember doing any of it. Don't. Remember. It's the only time in my entire life that i don't remember what i did, and i'm so happy that i was able to let go, loosen up that much.

I guess that's what they call a responsible drunk, then. And i'm glad to know i am one, even when i have no memory of it.

Phew. Giant relief. Seriously.