Snow Leaves Me Late and Drunk

I had started to write a follow up to this post about SOPA, but then I left for Boston and writing about the spectacularly fucked up trip to get there is much more appropriate.

gollum, hello precious

“Hello, Preciousssss…”

I usually drive up to Boston, but for this trip I was taking the bus because I find that sitting next to a guy who resembles Gollum and trying to look down my shirt for the entire seven hour trip makes for a most charming experience.  It also saves a lot of money when you’re a starving writer.

(Do you like how I put “starving” in there? Like how it’s not already implied as soon as you say “writer” that you’re starving?)

The main issue with taking the bus though is that they leave at a predetermined time rather than at whatever time I arrive to board, and with the insanity that follows me around like a stray cat, I usually end up running late.

If I was a mature person I would admit that the first screw up of the trip was my own fault since I didn’t plug in my cell phone, thus the battery was dying which resulted in its alarm going off very softly to conserve energy, thereby leading to me not waking up as early as I needed.  Instead I’m going to say that my phone’s battery blows and that it shouldn’t need to be charged as often as it demands.  Piece of shit.

LATE!

Waking up late was then compounded when I discovered that it had started snowing during the night.  I had my dog’s leash firmly in my hand when I opened the front door to leave for my mother’s house, but an Eskimo dog’s instinct to blast into snow is more powerful than the lock to keep the lead from letting out too far and she ended up nearly pulling my shoulder out of its socket as she blasted off into a snow drift.

“Kir-AAAAHHHHH!” I screamed as she yanked me into the snow and sent my backpack and suitcase flying from my arms.

COLD!

I was parched by the time I reached mumma’s so the first thing I did when I got to her house was to yank open the refrigerator, grab the orange juice and start chugging straight from the carton because I’m a lady like that.  I had swallowed at least two huge gulps before I realized that my brother had added fucking vodka to the carton of orange juice.  I spat out what was left in my mouth but there was no getting around that I had just chugged a giant Screwdriver for breakfast.

DRUNK!

I could have possibly still made the bus at this point, but then my mother and I reached the highway and it was still snowing and this is southern New Jersey.  South Jersey + Snow (of any accumulation) = You’re not going anywhere motherfucker.

FUCKED!

There was another bus leaving three hours later and rather than have my mother drive me across the bridge again, I convinced her to leave my pathetic ass at the station where there was at least the world’s worst coffee and incredibly slow Wifi.  All was calm until I took a trip to the restroom.

When I had gone into the bathroom stall, the lock didn’t turn very easily.  If I hadn’t been buzzed on vodka, I probably would have gone to another stall, but instead I cursed at the lock and turned it until it caught in the door.  The lock got its revenge though.  When I went to leave, it refused to release the door.

HAHA!

It was about 7am at this point, I was cold, drunk and nauseated so I did what I do best which was to be impulsive and destructive.  I pulled one of my slutty boots from my suitcase, yanked it on and then kicked the shit out of the bathroom door until I broke the lock.

Violence always makes me feel better so it didn’t even phase me when I finally boarded the bus a couple of hours later and the driver announced, “So this snow…um…yeah, I hope you guys weren’t planning on getting to Boston on time ’cause…nah, that’s not gonna happen…”

Yay snow in south Jersey/Philly.

obama snowball, cat

Even Obama laughs at my pain. (I laughed my ass off at this for some reason.)

EDIT: Ya’all need to read Nicki’s comment below to hear how she experienced hearing this story firsthand.  And kazoos are awesome.

24 thoughts on “Snow Leaves Me Late and Drunk

  1. BAHAHAHHAHAHAHA! This was just as funny the second time around. Well, maybe not, since there weren’t random passerbys at the subway station to hear you scream “AND I CHUGGED A SCREWDRIVER AT 5 A.M.” when the harp player randomly stopped playing.

    Typing that, I just realized there was a HARP PLAYER in the SUBWAY. How did I think this was totally normal at the time? We’re Boston. We don’t do harps. We should play accordions or harmonicas or some shit in our subway station. Or the kazoo. I could tooooootally see someone playing the kazoo for tips. And I would tip them. Because that’s balls, my friend. That’s balls.

  2. Aahahaha wow. I mean, that really sucks.

    But hey, if you have to be at a bus station in Jersey, doin’ it drunk is probably the best way to go. Because, yanno, Jersey.

    Love,
    A New Yorker =)

  3. OOOhhhhh, late, drunk, snow-laden, and locked in a public toilet… that’s the best clusterfuck I could imagine. Kuddos for going big, and not going home. The bad coffee though? Total tragic!

  4. I really don’t see what you are whining about! You got to sleep in, got a work out, had a breakfast most alcoholics pay good money for FOR FREE, and then got to kickbox as well. Sounds like a productive and beneficial morning to me.

    There is nothing worse than the first snow (or any snow in this area) and the assholes who decide they can no longer drive because of it. Grrr. Sorry your trip got off to such a rocky start. Hope the rest of it was awesome.

  5. I love that you kicked the door down. LOVE THAT.

    And I am not really a cat person, and not really an Obama hater, but why do I think “jeez it’s so mean of the president to throw snow at that cat”?

    I guess I’m just tired.

  6. I also love that you kicked the door down. And Kazoos are, I agree, totally awesome.
    Hats off for tackling this difficult trip as was required, with the determination and resolve of a small millitary mission.

  7. I think I’m going to take your ‘surprise screwdriver’ concept and apply it to certain friends.

    OJ in the fridge? Surprise, there’s vodka in it! Apple Juice? No more, it’s hard cider, bitches!

    Think of the AM meetings at work. Shit’s goin DOWN, son.

    I love how you kept plodding along and didn’t let anything get in your way. Not even a crappy bathroom door.

  8. welcome back kitty Kat. This post was terrific. Yet, the next time alkyhawl is involved try to punch someone. Then, we’re talking blog of the year.

    seriously glad to have you bad, hope you’re warm and sober.

  9. I’m balanced precariously between “who the hell puts vodka in the orange juice carton IN HIS MOTHER’S HOUSE?” and “goddamn, I could put vodka RIGHT IN THE ORANGE JUICE CARTON”. In my mother’s house, of course. I have kids, what the hell are you thinking?

  10. That’s one way to ensure the OJ don’t get drunk, or that anyone who chugs from the carton DOES get drunk, heh heh, evil little brothers. As for bad coffee, at least you were locked in the right place for when it hit ya, right? Look on the somewhat sunny side…
    Was waiting for a new post from you, this was better than SOPA whichis now ACTA anyway, the names keep changing but it’s the same bad deal they’re trying to slip under the wire without out notice, talk about ignoring the will of the people who put someone in power. Same old shit, just a different day, which is why I come HERE for that night time favorite exercise before bed, ROTFLMFAO! But if I’m going to lose any weight in this plan, you need to post more often ;-P

  11. @Nicki-It did finally dawn on me that we just kinda accepted that there was a harpist playing in the subway. But it WAS pretty awesome how she stopped playing at the exact moment of my alcoholic proclamation.

    I’ve decided that we’re forming a kazoo band. We shall rock the shit outta the subway.

    @Haven-I’ve found that alcohol makes 99% of things more tolerable, but I was just in a mood that morning I guess. 😉

    @Samantha-Hello fellow Jersey Girl! I’m about ten minutes from Philly via the three main bridges . Where do hail from?

    @Krissy-WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?!?!?! I’VE MISSED THE HELL OUT OF YOU TOO!!!

    @RandyGirl-The bad coffee was just outright. I nearly started crying.

    @Tony Van Helsing-That’s my story and I’m stickin’ to it!

    @Gia-I have no idea why that picture struck me as HILARIOUS. I mean, it’s funny but I completely lost it when I saw the pic. Glad you enjoyed it too. =)

    @bobo-I would have preferred Tequila!

    @Andrea-I had a BRILLIANT trip since as you can see from her comment I got to see my dear Nicki for one thing. I’m glad that I can give you a laugh on your lunch. ^_^ (Don’t choke though!!!)

    @According to Jewels-You are correct, my dear friend. I don’t know why I didn’t look at it all that way. 😉

    @Mary A.-Sometimes you just gotta kick in a door. Thank you for taking the time to read and comment even though you were tired, darlin’.~

    @WeezaFish-Come Hell or high water I WAS MAKING IT TO BEANTOWN!

    @Michael-At the very least I got a good blog post out of it. 😉

    @Lost.in.Idaho-And the cream shall be White Russians!! This is brilliance! Also, thanks so much for joining the insanity here, Idaho. =)

    @Lance-Thanks, boss, it’s good to be back even though I do love Boston.

    @Bibliomama-That’s exactly what I felt!!! Part of me was thinking ‘wow this is a great idea’, but the other half wanted to dump the carton on my brother.

    @Gina Jordan-I’ll do my best to post more often to give you your workout, darlin’. 😉

  12. As I was reading this I thought to myself, “I will be so fucking disappointed if she’s drunk AND late AND doesn’t break…” and then the bathroom stall. So thank you again for a perfect story 🙂

  13. I seriously cannot get over at how damn funny you are! Love love love the way you write! I’m such a bad reader but it keeps me interested the whole time.
    Bahah vodka in the oj! That’s hilarious, that would be a good way to be a bit buzzed by accident so no one could judge you that it’s like 6am haha.

  14. I have a retired racing greyhound. They are sight hounds. They love what I like to call “stalking”. When she was younger, Portie (short for Newport but there was no way I was calling my dog a pack of cigarettes and, really, that’s the first thing that comes to mind when I think Newport) was obsessed with little animals and would frequently jump at her leash to try to chase after them. She eventually learned. But not before this incident. I think it was cold. There may have been ice involved. Undoubtedly, I was half asleep (and since I worked second shift, this meant it was probably two in the afternoon but that’s irrelevant, really). I let Portie out on her leash and walked onto the porch toward the stairs leading to the backyard. At the top of the stairs, Portie saw a squirrel that she just HAD to have. She JUMPED down the steps at top speed (keep in mind greyhounds can reach top speed in a blink), dragging me straight off the porch and jarring, bruising, and scraping me from head to toe. I’m amazed she didn’t pull my arm out of socket. I was seriously concerned about a couple of my fingers… They certainly FELT like they’d been pulled out of socket. Fortunately, stubborn-assed me didn’t feel it warranted a doctor’s visit (after all, if it doesn’t fall off, it’s okay, right?).

    And I can’t believe your dad puts vodka IN the juice carton. My family at least has the common sense to put it into a secondary container (not that it’s labeled and, sure, you can still make the same mistake but at least it’s not false advertising).

    And I could so see myself doing the door trick. Actually, I have done the door trick. Only not to get the door open. I do that on a regular basis at the campus library to keep the door SHUT. There’s no latch on any of the doors, but if you kick it shut, the doors are so malformed, they’ll actually jam in place. Course, sometimes they just bounce back and you end up kicking it some more out of frustration. Hey, it’s better than punching the door. Now, THAT hurts. Punching metal is never fun.

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