Famous Last Words

spoken by Eliza day-after-the-Santa-Shindig:

"Clark isn't that bad." Now, i will admit, he was charming and witty and attentive to the fiancee throughhout the holiday. it was a REAL CHANGE from his former behavior of roughly the past 5 years in a row - big change. "Hey" I thought to myself, "maybe committing is really what he needed, maybe he's really getting his act together."
Then came sunday. ah, you can take the drunk out of the city, but you can't take the drunk OUT. me and my newly engaged cousin spend the day making social calls, our male attendants go to a football game. Clark was very excited. he even picked out his clothes for the event. hurrah!
At the game, Tim reports, Clark had about 10 drinks. then Tim had to go to the hospital so he dropped Clark at a neighborhood eatery that had the different football games playing and Clark commenced to getting well and truly SHITFACED. oh, but it did not stop there. he made some "friends" at the eatery and asked Tim to give them rides across town to another bar. Tim reports that in about 10 minutes Clark threw down another 10 drinks. Tim estimates that in a 3 hour period Clark went through about 36 drinks.
On the way home Clark passed out in the car, which was something of a relief to the good doctor who was afraid the drunk would reupholster his vehicle interior. then Tim got home and the drunk came concious again and started getting a wee bit mouthy.
He detailed the miscellany of creole heritage and social responsibility i.e. getting drunk at every possible opportunity. he also detailed the "creole allure" as in every woman wants her a creole but only a few can have them. as an example, he used me. on his report, i fell hard for his little pudgy drunken friend in chicago and was positively devastated when i got dumped. it played out in the reverse, but i don't argue with drunks.
Enter Mrs. Carnegie and the newly engaged cousin after a day of really enjoyable "girl time" and the acquisition of an actual mattress for the Mrs. Carnegie's smashing new pad. We walk in on a slurring, staggering, belligerant mess sitting on the couch. we go through not a little trouble to show off the newly fianceed girl's new semi-formal strapless dress, in which she looks divine, and the drunk heckles her while trying to decode the mysteries of using his cellphone to order a pizza he may or may not have ordered before.
Since the cellphone was a bit much for his muddled state he started making demands of me (our hapless heroine, Mrs. Carnegie). as in "why don't you call papa johns and order me a pizza!" and "i said call the papa johns, i want pizza!" and "shit it's your neighborhood and i want pizza." everyone can just take a moment and guess how successful this line of reasoning was.
And did i mention that my living room REEKED. You know how once you reach your saturation point the alchohol starts coming out of your pores? first thing i smelled upon entereing the house was vodka. it was a veritable potpourri of alchohol.
Eventually, having noticed Tim was nauseated and thoroughly exhausted and not a little ticked off, the clueless fiancess was displeased and i was inching my way toward "grab the cast iron pan or a pot of of grits" i let our little household drunk know it was bedtime for those of us with gainful employement and a purpose in the world and the hospitality was shutting down.
He'd figured otu the cellphone by that time and called somebody who swore theyd din't have a pizza order for him and he needn't worry about cancelling the order.
He lumbered upstairs and down, upstairs and down and even stopped for a moment to ask me "has anyone ever told you you read too much cause you got books all over the place." i answered in the negative. he stood there, happily sodden, goofy smile plastered on his face waiting for me, i returned to my book.
so yeah, Eliza, he isn't so bad if he's SOBER. and for the record, Clueless Fiancee, i don't hate him, he's not worth that much effort on my part - i just hate him FOR YOU.