Never ever try to run when your pissed, I really should know better! Friday night was a really good night. We had planned a surprise 60th birthday part for my Dad. The day didn’t start well, my Dad woke full of cold, we basically thought well thats blown it, we are gonna have to cancel it all.
Fair credit to the old guy he managed to get his ass outta bed and be up for work and from there out for a meal with my mum. The day didn’t get any better however. My sister in law had arranged with her cousin for a DJ for the party, some one to play a few tunes in the background to keep everyone merry. Friday afternoon she sends a text to the DJ just to make sure he is coming. He sends her a nice little reply saying “oh didn’t anyone tell you, I cant make it blah blah”. As you can imagine this caused mass panic in the camp. Where the hell could another DJ be found at short notice. It’s not like he was all that easy to find in the first place.
My sister in-law phoned her cousin and told her about, her cousin went nuts by all accounts as she didn’t know he wasn’t coming either. She calls the guy and plays merry hell with him, tells him he better sort something out or else there’s gonna be trouble! (Knowing her cousin I dread to think what she might have done to him but it would have been something rather nasty I’m sure). Crisis averted, the original DJ says he cant make it but he manages to arrange for some one else he knows to take the gig.
You’d think that would be enough really, the person the party is for feeling ill, the DJ crisis. But of course these things come in threes don’t they. Some dopey git had to go and injure himself didn’t. Yep someone who is no stranger to drinking stupid amounts of alcohol makes a tit of himself while drunk. That would be me by the way.
The night went well enough, I slowly worked my way from sober to merry. Carried on past merry towards tipsy and didn’t stop there either. Magners is such a nice drink but it really does go down to fast plus it doesn’t exactly mix with JD and coke, but what the hell it got me drunk.
Late on, being the gallant chap that I am, I decided I would do the nice thing and help get my granparents home. Such a thoughtful guy I hear you cry. A throughly decent thing to do some might say as they are both quite old now. Let me tell you, I wish I hadn’t! I don’t mind the journey, the missing out on the opportunity to keep my alcohol level that little bit higher. Far from it, I’m glad to help. The problem is for some strange reason, myself and my mate decided it would be a good idea to run back to the bar after we had dropped them off. A matter of maybe 500 meters, a mere warm up for such a health pair. Perhaps not the case when there is more alcohol than blood in your veins.
Barely 20 feet from the driveway I take a pitched dive to the floor. Fair play to my senses, even in my intoxicated state my hands responded with their normal sharpness (it must be the kickboxing) and saved my less than handsome face from contact with the pavement. Unfortunately, loose gravel on the pavement and a reasonable turn of speed are not a good thing to combine with fragile skin. When I picked my self up from the floor my hands had gone a nice claret colour. Those of you that have me on your facebook will no doubt have seen the evidence. Its not a pretty sight where I’ve scraped quite large chunks of skin from the bottom of my palms