Sunday, February 08, 2009

ThePeach finally has a winter bender; eats bacon poutine

Bear with me, here. I’m a little hungover. But I need to get this story to paper before alcohol eats any more memory brain cells.

This semester has been…hard. At times, a little miserable. I was reluctant to love Radio, and the transition into broadcast was a bumpy one. To top it off, Radio played hard to get. Radio didn’t want my affections. We might be having hot radio sex now, but getting to this point was awful.

So, the past month of school has been difficult and trying.

I’ve barely had time to go out. I know. Me. Not going out. Sacrilege.

I’ve also not had time to go running, which upsets me. Not because I miss the exercise, but because my thighs are fat now. It probably doesn’t help that I eat Kraft Dinner every second day and poutine at least once/week, and that there’s a fucking Beavertail Hut 2 minutes from my house.

Anyway. This weekend, things changed. Not my thighs. They remain the same.

But I finally, FINALLY had time to go on an old fashioned bender. Praise be to jebus.

On Friday I went out with my classmates. We wound up dancing like whores in some hiphop bar, where I proceeded to get fall-down drunk, get into a legitimate fight with a bartender, awkwardly reveal my own life-secrets to others, flail to the music like I have some kind of palsy, consume 3000 vodka redbulls, and *supposedly* send three text messages to my friend at 5am. Don’t remember that part.

I also somehow prompted GinBucket to shake me by the shoulders in the middle of the dance floor and proclaim:

Peach. You are bisexual. Why won’t you just admit that you’re bisexual?! YOU. ARE. BI. SEXUAL.

Oh. I hope not. Maybe I should stop watching The L Word. You know how there are scientific studies that prove watching violent tv makes kids more aggressive? Ya.

I don’t really remember getting home. I woke up at 11am and wanted to die. I know I say this every week, but I have never been more hungover. Each week I find new ways to destroy my body a little worse than the week before. My body is so displeased with me right now.

ThePeach: O.M.G. Wow. Ok, I need some breakfast.
ThePeach’s Thighs: Maybe you should make a laxative smoothie.
ThePeach’s Brain: Maybe you should have a glass of water, two advil, and then check into rehab.
ThePeach’s Liver: What. The. Fuck. WHAT THE FUCK. Bitch, what’s wrong with you?
ThePeach’s Gut: I don’t…I don’t even know…what is this? What is this? Is this redbull, vodka, gin, wine, and…a can of icing? Is that…is that what I’m seeing, here? How…how…you want me to digest this?

I made it as far as the couch and then stayed there until 3pm. Then I showered and went to visit MC, who was in a similar state. We watched a movie and ate Kraft Dinner.

ThePeach’s Thighs: Have you ever looked into Hoodia? I hear it’s perfectly healthy. You might have a heart attack but wouldn’t you rather die skinny?
ThePeach’s Gut: What is…this? This orange paste? Is this…is this chemical cheese? Are you really eating chemical cheese? Do you WANT cancer?? Because bitch, I will grow a tumor so fast your head will spin.

As I was lying on MCs couch in a state of stupor, my friend (who will remain nameless) called.

Friend: My bitch. I’m in town. Get your fucking ass off the couch. Get dressed. I’m coming over.

Oh. Shit.

I dragged myself back into my apartment, squeezed myself into jeans (ThePeach’s Thighs: *SCREAM!*), and tried not to hurl.

Friend and I wound up at a pub downtown, where we drank 3000 vodka redbulls. Then something…awkward…happened.

Friend met up with an old friend of hers. A very, very hot bartender. She was blonde, thin, tanned, and within 20 minutes Friend had her hands down this chick’s pants in the middle of the bar. I stood around awkwardly and texted everyone I know to beg them to come rescue me.

Friend continued to attack the hot bartender over the next several hours, while I stood around and drank very, very heavily. Everyone in the bar stared at us, because here are these two hot blonde chicks totally going at it, and beside them is this awkward brunette chugging vodka like it’s an olympic sport.

I turned around for one second, and when I looked back I saw the two of them heading toward the girl’s bathroom. Ok. Now I was alone and chugging vodka.

20 minutes later I had made friends with the bartender’s friend, and we decided maybe we should leave. But the friend needed to get her keys, which were in the bartender’s pants. We debated over what to do for another 20 minutes before we finally stormed the bathroom. They were in the last stall, pressed up against the wall. I would later find out from Friend that they were nekked.

Ballsy.

After much begging, the keys were whipped over the door and landed in the sink. We rinsed them and made an exit.

But I guess my friend and the bartender decided they had enough, because they emerged at that moment. The bartender went home to go see her boyfriend, and my friend left with me. She looked like she had blue balls (blue clit?), so I suggested we go get some food and debrief.

We wound up at the 24-hour poutine diner, where I immediately ordered a large bacon-poutine.

ThePeach’s Thighs: *SCREAM!!!!*

HotMess joined us. She got my rescue text and swooped in to save me, albeit a little too late. But still. Bitch is my hero.

When we finally got back to my apartment, my friend told me all the details of her bathroom lesbian encounter. I love her. Then we talked about her blue balls for a while.

I decided that I’m probably not bisexual, since I can’t really picture myself going down on a girl in a bathroom stall. Or anywhere, really. I have, however, given head to a man in a bathroom stall.

Take that, GinBucket.

I woke up this morning and was once again shocked at how badly I had abused my body. I decided I needed to detox, get some exercise, fit into my pants again, and be a productive member of society.

Then I got a text from my friend Pretty.

Pretty: I’m in town tonight. Want to go out?

Well…shit.

ThePeach

3 comments:

Claire said...

I kind of feel like I've been destroying your world recently. Laughing at your hotmail address, confusing you about your sexuality...

You define your place on the rainbow spectrum in whatever way you like, little Peach. All I'm saying is "bisexual" is a lot less of a mouthful than "in a heterosexual relationship but get off on lesbo porn and think chicks are hot but vaginas are weird."

Our class feels like an after school special lately. I love it.

Cleavage said...

I genuinely believe this the worst hangover you've ever had, because you misused an apostrophe. Dude. I am quietly judging you from the land of people who say, "I were just down t'road...", but don't worry - judgement will pass soon. (it's impossible to be judgemental while eating pork scratchings)

The Peach said...

Omg, I did??? I'm so distraught right now, you can't even imagine.