HILARIOUS

I have an issue. I mean-- I have several issues, but one that I will discuss here, now. It has to do with alcohol. And volume. And my total lack of control over one once I have had the other. I don't know why I feel the need to yell when I drink; or to dance, or sing, or jump four vertical feet in the air and grab some guy I don't know that well around the neck and ride him around, but I do.

And that's my Wednesday. And not just one Wednesday, but a lot of Wednesdays.
And Fridays, and Sundays, and Tuesdays and Saturdays and Thursdays.

Monday I am in bed by 9p.m. and asleep like a little church mouse.

The thing is, I have a feeling that I am even louder than I think I am while I'm doing it. And I think I'm pretty loud. I also happen to think I am hilarious. After five rum and diet coke's, I am Margaret Cho. But not asian. And funny. Actually I am more like Mario Cantone. Only not a dude.

Ok, I'm just me, wasted. But funny. In fact, on a recent drunken Saturday night, I was hilarious. I was also pretty sad, because one of my favorite people was about to go very far away. So I had a few rum and cokes. Four or so. Or nine. Whatever. And the bar we happened to be at, celebrating this last American night that this very favored person was having was showing bull riding on their television.

BULL RIDING!!!!!!!! What could be more AMERICAN??!!?? AND HILARIOUS!!??!!

So I wandered up to the bar to order another drink that I totally didn't need at all, and turned to a bespectacled, tight-jeaned hipster gentledouche beside me and elbowed him. He winced, and held his delicate, girl-like ribs and glared at me as I gestured toward the televised cowboys and said-- "Doesn't that make you kind of want a cheeseburger?"

HA! A CHEESEBURGER!!! BECAUSE THEY ARE RIDING COWS!! HILARIOUS!!!!!!!!

(Also, as previously noted I had consumed seven rum and diet cokes on an empty stomach at this point, so at this point nothing sounded better to me than a cheeseburger)

He scowled at me and rubbed his doucheribs and said, "I'm a vegetarian. And that makes me want to punch Texas in the face." And really, I had just had too much to drink. So I should have walked away, maybe blushing. Embarrassed. Cowed. Shamed.

But no. I was hungry. Hungry, and HILARIOUS. So I said back to him- "Really? It makes me want a cheeseburger. And I love Texas. I'm from Texas" (I am NOT from Texas) "I'm going to tell Texas you want to punch it in the face, and it's going to come kick your ass."

None of this was said quietly.
So, maybe the volume isn't my only concern. But at least if it was quieter, no one would hear me making an ass out of myself. Of course, they would also miss the hilarity.

Or maybe not.