And the world keeps on spinning...and spinning...and spinning...

I don't get drunk that often. I'm not much of a drinker...mostly because I can't 'hang' very long once the drinking commences. I've only gone black out once in my life and that was the first and only time I ever drank Jungle Juice.  Normally the world just gets a little fuzzy....and then I puke.  Bahaha. I even have certain stages that progress along as I continue to imbibe fermented liquids.

Stage One: The Asian Glow

The condition characterized by the subtle (or not so subtle in my case) flush to the face and/or body as alcohol is absorbed into the bloodstream.  My ears get the worst of it, however the more I drink, the more it creeps along the rest of my body from head...to toe.  There have been numerous times sitting on the pisser, drunker than I should be, observing in awe the redness in my thighs.

Stage Two: The Happy Chill

me and hubby

me and brettkins

I become kind of an extrovert and talk to strangers.  The above pics are not strangers, however this is:

Yay Breakfast Club.

Stage Three:  The GiggleFits

At this point...I consider myself drunk. Still cognizant of my surroundings...but unable to filter and think about 90% of things said and done around me are hilarious.  Not quite able to walk a straight line, but not quite falling over...yet.  This stage also comes with dancing and the snarky betch version of me.  If I'm out with the girls...I am the cock blocking betch that will protect my friends from the horrors of grinding up against some strange man (of course, if they're ok with grinding up against some hornball then by all means...)

Stage Four:  The Spinning Room

Me, sitting on the bar floor...

This is when things start to get really fuzzy.  My eyes are barely open and I can't stand up without feeling like I'm going to fall over.  The Giggle Fits are over and people start to look at me like I'm going to barf all over the bar.  I may or may not admit to feeling queasy but regardless my companions typically cut me off at this point.  Rightfully so because what comes next isn't pretty...

Stage Five:  Oh yeah, I'm allergic.

(I'd rather not post pictures of me like this...:-P)

Tell tale sign I'm about to blow chunks:  Me sitting on whatever I find to sit on, half dazed staring out at the people getting drunk around me, SCRATCHING my face and chest. It's soon to get messy.  There was this one time that I got to this point and tried, unsuccessfully, to contain the projectile vomit in a plastic cup.  I still feel sorry for my friend who was serving us at the time.

PostPuke: Amazingly, after I expel all of the alcohol and food out of my stomach, I'm perfectly fine and go back to Stage 2 or 3.   In the morning I'm completely normal. No hangover, well rested, and annoyingly chipper to everyone else who had undoubtedly drank more than me.  The benefits of being me.

Most drinking events, I try not to get to Stage Five.  However...depending on the type of alcohol, I could go from Stage 2 to Stage 5 in a flash. This is why I avoid vodka at all costs.

Going out for St Patrick's Day last night was fun...but I'm still paying for it.  The irony of all this is that I know if I had thrown up last night, I probably would feel better than I do right now.  I wish I was in bed....