The Drunk Dee Rules

Greetings, all! This is probably going to be a short post. A lot has happened to me recently, so I’ll do a mini update and get right to it.

1.      I auditioned for the Beautiful Kids production of Hamlet this past week. Ophelia has been a dream role of mine (and an object of absolute psychological fascination and mild obsession) since I first read Hamlet when I was….really young, but with this insanely talented theatre community, I was shooting for a role more like Guard #3. I just want to be a part of my second favourite Shakespeare show. Shockingly, I got called back, which was odd, for the roles of Ophelia and her brother Laertes, which will be a “pants” role-meaning a woman portraying a man-in this production. As I am the world’s worst auditioner and loathe auditions to the core, I did not do well. But I am so excited to see the show and possibly be in it as an extra.

2.      I have a small role in a scene for the theatre department’s Directing Scenes class. The scene is an excerpt from the play The Madwoman of Chaillot, about which I know nothing, but I’ll soon remedy that. It’s short and the production is in a few weeks, but I’m very excited to be acting alongside my wifey, Venus!

3.      I got hired at Victoria’s Secret in Maumee, and words cannot express how excited I am about it. I worked for VS back in high school, leaving when I went off to BG, but I never really stopped being enthusiastic about the place. I don’t match the image of the Pink-toting sorority girl whom most associate with girls who love VS, but I am never not wearing something from that store, whether it be undergarments, swimsuits, yoga gear, or my “signature” perfume. I don’t necessarily like being an active salesperson, but I’m totally excited to start working with people again. Rather, I’m excited to work with people who aren’t standing in front of me to yell about a $10 parking ticket. Plus, store discount. Win.

We don't get to wear this stuff to work.

4.      Lent is over in two days! I made it! Victory! Take that, shitty winter diet and lack of self-discipline! In your face, hypocritical members of the Catholic flock! Come Sunday, I will be burying my face in chocolate and seeking out the biggest, greasiest burger you’ve ever seen.

5.       I…have a boyfriend. And just seeing that in black and white makes my guts knot up into an origami swan. Yes, I realize I am still a gigantic commitmentphobe who’s leaving for Chicago in a few short months. It’s a very long story, but to cut it down to bare bones…well, he’s awesome. He’s the first person to make me feel “relationshippy” feelings since my ex fiasco. That makes him the first person in close to two years who made me think that a relationship might not be the ninth circle of Dante’s Hell. Granted, I’m still terrified, and it took him a couple weeks of breaking my reluctance with plans and reassurances, but…yeah…I’m off the market. I finally convinced myself that shirking someone who made me feel this way after so long just because I was leaving in 4 months would be a missed opportunity. Right now the plan is to see how things go, enjoy our time together. I still have a twisted labyrinth of psychological walls and emotional baggage, but he’s well aware of all of it and more than ready…enthusiastic, even…to dive in and deal with this particular crazy bitch. Frighteningly, he seems to understand how my half mad mind works. So, there we go. Life hasn’t changed much so far, save that a few of my male friends have gone completely insane…but that’s a story for another day.

<3 (this is from deviantart's mangawolffreak)

…and yes, he does fit into the category of übermensch in appearance. You can’t take the Freak out of the Dee.

Now, on with the Rules.

Those who have gone to the bars, apartment parties, or in other situations and have imbibed alcohol with me have probably heard me talk about the Drunk Dee Rules. These are a collection of regulations established when I began drinking on a semi-regular basis and certain patterns emerged in me that require intervention. Oddly enough, these do not include not letting me drive home or keeping me hydrated, as I tend to be a very responsible drinker. These rules are more to prevent Drunk Dee from utterly embarrassing Next Day Dee.

So without further introduction, here are the official Drunk Dee Rules!

I. Keep Dee’s Clothes On

            I don’t (usually) start doing a striptease or dancing on the bar or anything, but when I drink and my inhibitions are lowered, my preference to be unencumbered by clothing begins to outweigh social acceptability. For some reason, when I drink enough, I find my clothes to be confining, uncomfortable, and incredibly annoying. Many a friend has stopped me from ripping off my shirt Hulk-style.

II. Don’t Let Dee Climb On Things

           

I like to climb. A lot. I hop onto counters to reach high shelves and scramble into trees frequently, but doing it drunk is never a good idea for anyone. Also, for some reason, I enjoy being up high when I’m drunk. I suppose it makes me feel safer, but I have no idea.

III. Dee Does NOT Sing!

            For the love of your earbuds and those in the immediate area of wherever we happen to be, do not let me sing. The once exception to this regulation was when a slap bet was in effect: If I sang karaoke, I got to slap Fratello in the face. Naturally, I couldn’t pass that up. But future Slap Bet Commissioners must at least take Rule #3 into account while ruling on the validity of a slap bet.

            I can, however, dance as much as I want to.

IV. Don’t Let Dee Molest Strangers

           

            As I’ve mentioned in previous posts, I am a pretty damned physical person in day to day life. Drunk Dee is about a thousand times touchier. I cuddle, I kiss, I grab faces, I hang over people. It’s a problem, but friends of mine are used to it. Strangers, however…not so much. This rule came into being on a weekend Bros Night with Swarley at Skybar. On weekends, many clubs in BG charge for water, rather than serving it free as they do on weeknights. At that point in the night, I was comfortably intoxicated and had run out of my booze money. I flagged down the bartender, a very muscular guy.

            “Do you charge for water?” I asked him. He looked at me, hanging drunkenly on the bar.

            “Who’s it for?” he asked.

            “Uh…well, me.” I said.

            He nodded, filled up a plastic cup with ice water, and handed it to me.

            “No charge.”

            I beckoned him closer and patted his cheek when he was within snaring distance.

            “You are saving me from a hangover, sweetie.” I said, stroking his face.

            Luckily, Swarley came to his rescue, grabbing my wrist and easing me away from the bar.

            “Okay, D,” he said soothingly, “Let’s leave the nice bartender alone.”

Nobody likes sudden face grabbing.

            This rule was solidified a month or two ago at Ination. Now, I have only ever drunk at Ination three times in my life. My main policy is to never drink at goth night, for the safety of my darkling throng, who are all pierced, tattooed, sexy, and bound to be molested by Drunk Dee. Unfortunately, that’s what ended up happening. I decided to let loose and drink at my beloved Ination (there’s a good reason when I break this particular credo, but I can’t remember why I did this night.)

I was fine for the majority of the night. There are people in the Ination family who love me very much and are very protective of me, so I’m rarely ever in any actual danger there. Other, people, though, are in danger of me. For a few weeks there was a kid I’d seen around who’d become somewhat eye candy for me; a tall, scrawny industrial kid with fantastic cheekbones, tattoos, rivethead hair, the works. I’d seen him there with a group each week, occasionally dancing with a particular girl, so I’d figured he wasn’t single, though I wasn’t certain. Well the week I’d ended up drunk at Ination, I ended up cornering the poor kid.

“HEY!” I shouted, grabbing him and beckoning him to my level (he’s very tall) and grabbing the back of his head to talk into his ear, “Are you single?” I asked like a principal who just caught a kid with pot.

He gave me a horrified stare, “Um…no…”

“Dammit.” And I walked away.

For weeks after that, the poor thing would give me a deer-in-headlights stare when we met eyes and avoided me like the Plague. Though I finally apologized (fun fact, he’s only 18! I nearly died after learning that I harassed a doe-eyed teenager. Poor baby!) it was still mortifying enough to solidify one of the most important Rules.

           

I have to keep my hands to myself...and my friends.

And there you have them, the Drunk Dee Rules. This list has been revised a couple of times. Originally there was a rule that stipulated that Dee does Not Steal an Elm St street sign. Well, that’s a long story, and I’m not at liberty to talk about it, but…that rule’s moot. Another one, Take Dee’s Phone Away, was an effort to save friends from receiving a barrage of overly sentimental drunk texts (“You have no idea how much I love having you in my life.”) But with time, I realized that embarrassing texting aside, I should always, always have my phone with me.

I began drinking regularly a little late in the game (last year), and I think that’s helped me be a responsible drinker. For the most part, I’m very careful about keeping myself hydrated, checking in on how I feel, and staying safe. For instance, I don’t have a rule that instructs people not to let me drive home or walk around alone. As stubborn as I get about taking care of myself, I’m not an idiot when inebriated.

I have an Easter weekend to figure out. Do any of my invisible/imaginary blog readers have a list of their own drunk rules? What silly things do you do when you drink?

Ciao and, gotta say it, for those who follow it, happy day of the rising of the zombie lord.