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Wednesday, July 1, 2009

Reason #312 Not to Drink

We’ve all said it before. “Why did I drink that much? I’m never drinking again!” My personal favorite was after a long night of festivities during my college years at Auburn. With my best friend sitting next to me on the bathroom floor I remarked, “Robin, this is the most comfortable toilet I’ve ever thrown up in.” (I now have one less skeleton in my closet.) The point is having “one too many” has never resulted in me saying, “Wow! I had so much fun last night AND I left with my dignity and self respect intact.” It just doesn’t happen that way.

Last week we got a babysitter and went to dinner with some friends. Harmlessly enough I had two glasses of wine with dinner. That’s not an understatement and I didn’t even finish the second glass. Regardless of the amount imbibed I was rendered incapable of locating my intelligence. I knew I was in trouble when while sharing a bathroom stall with a friend (despite multiple empty stalls) I began my first signature symptom of intoxication: the whisper shout.

The whisper shout usually consists of me whispering at the top of my lungs some less than polite words regarding a nearby individual. The victim is usually a stranger or worse, my husband. I once commented that my husband was “acting like a jerk”. He then responded, “I hope you realize you just said that to me.” Busted!

I then returned to our table with my second signature symptom. This one is actually a combination of self assurance with a heaping dose of coolness. This is when I’m at my funniest and no one is better than me, or so I think AND if you’re lucky I might even tell you that.

Finally, as any big event would have, there’s the grand finale. One last hoorah, if you will. This occurred after we left the restaurant and stopped by Home Depot for a couple of things. Much to my excitement we walked in alongside a local Nashville news anchor. His name is Tom Randles and he is on Channel 4 in the evenings. Brantley must have seen my face light up because he immediately said, “Uh-uh! I don’t think so, Lori.” I decided to play innocent with, “What? I was just going to say hey.”

He persisted. “He doesn’t want to talk to you and you’ve had too much to drink. You’ll just embarrass yourself.”

This angered me but I took his advice…sort of. Unfortunately I was so disappointed about having missed my chance to talk to Mr. Randles that I came home and made a huge mistake. I went on the news website, looked him up and…..drum roll, please…I sent him an email. Oh, yes. Instead of babbling something silly to him in passing at Home Depot that he would have almost immediately forgotten I decided to send him something a little more permanent and stamped with my name to boot.

“Dear Tom,
What’s up? I saw you in Home Depot returning that caulk. Sorry my husband wouldn’t let me talk to you. He gets mad when he drinks too much. Make sure you write me back so I know that you got this email lest you hurt my feelings. Talk to you later.

I’ve learned lessons in the past regarding drinking & dialing and drinking & texting. Never before did I know the dangers of drinking & typing. Maybe I should make that my public service announcement.

“Be responsible. Tell a friend. Don’t drink and type.”