So last night I went to the Department Gathering and, as usual, took it upon myself to remind everyone why I’m the department lush. It doesn’t help that my advisor’s mantra is “everyone should drink more,” or that three different sets of people were dispatched to “buy lots more wine,” or, for that matter, that my initial bonding with Advisor occurred over lots and lots of wine and cigarettes. I don’t smoke anymore–a fact which Advisor reminded me of several times last night, somewhat wistfully: “this is the point where you and I would go outside and smoke. I mean, it’s good that you don’t smoke. But it’s too bad we’re not smoking.” [and it’s a tossup whether I find that annoying or endearing or lots of both]–so all I’m left with is the wine. Which I drank. And drank. So much that by the end of the gathering I was insisting to Advisor and School Friend (also an ex-smoker like me) that we *must* start smoking cigars at these meetings. We must! We will! I will supply the cigars! No, really, it’s a [hic] GREAT IDEA!

Okay. So you see kind of how that went. And the thing is, I knew that last night was Date Night with Gospel Bob. So upon seeing my sorry state at the beginning of our date, GB did the only sensible thing: he grabbed the jug of Rossi and attempted to catch up.

But, oh, I had such a head start. There is no catching me! Mwahaha! And so there was drinking and records and, suddenly, the realization that GB simply must start his own blog! Now! Because the only thing more satisfying than drunken blogging is enabling drunken blogging!

–And *that’s* why this blog is anonymous.–

Of course, in the harsh light of Thursday morning, GB realized that he doesn’t even open his mail, fer chrissakes, and has no intention of ever posting to the drunken blog again. So I’m not sure if I should link right to it….but….I did drunkenly put it in my drunken blogroll, and since he knows I did that, well, look over there. –>

And then I went to attend the lecture of the course in which I am the Head Assistant Honcho, and spent the entirety of the hour and a half silently begging my stomach to pleasepleasepleaseIswearI’llquitdrinking not, um, divest itself of its contents. And trying to quell a rising panic attack, and I almost never get panic attacks–except when I drink *to the point of poisoning my body* and my body says, hey, fuck you buddy.

Which I deserved. And I did not puke in class, or on the train ride home, so thank heaven for small favors, right?

I think we’re going to have to move Date Night to the weekend.

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