& the freak-down: an old man’s game

The Freak-Down

37 Days

Today I drank. Not because I’m one of those folks who needs to start drinking at noon on a Friday. It was for academic purposes.

No, really. The school here in Oklahoma actually has a pretty decent-sized criminal justice department, with a lot of students who come through every year. Before I bolt from this place, the guy in charge of the CJ program asked if I wanted to help out with the law enforcement training class today.

What were they doing? you might ask. Well, the students had to do their field sobriety training today. And the best way to do this is to get drunk people. Enter Ande. I’ve never been one to pass up a drinking teaching opportunity.

I’m a pretty responsible (read: lame) drinker, which I’ve discussed before. That means I’ve never had to do a breathalyzer test. Today would be a day of firsts.

I’m a pretty big guy. You’ve seen pictures of me before. I’m definitely not petite, that’s for sure. So it would appear the alcohol takes a little bit more to get into my system. I drank more than anyone else in the room, yet my BAC was the lowest. Good to know, amiright?

I actually never went above the legal limit. I barely approached the DWI zone of .06, which is a misdemeanor in Oklahoma. The thing is that I’m such a lightweight that I couldn’t have driven if I’d wanted to. I felt the buzz by the time I was blowing .03. I’ve never been much of a drinker.

Because I’ve never been much of a drinker, I haven’t been that drunk before. Even today, obviously, I wasn’t that drunk. Still below the legal limit. Luckily, since we live in our shitty campus apartment, I could walk home to take care of my pregnant wife. Drunk. Husband of the Year material right there.

I still jumped right in. Karli wasn’t feeling very well today, so I rubbed her back and got her water and started cooking dinner. Then I barfed in the sink—another first for me. I finished cooking dinner*, fully aware that I’m now ready for parenthood.

*After washing my face and hands, just in case you were starting to doubt my level of responsibility.

I didn’t go through my super partier phase where I was out getting bombed every other night, but now I’m absolutely certain I’m past that point for good. There’s no chance that I’m able to become that guy, either. I’m definitely ready to be Dad—calm and lame and chillin at home with the little-uns.

I’m definitely tall enough to ride this ride.

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8 thoughts on “& the freak-down: an old man’s game

  1. On the flip side, my wife claims that her partying days at UCLA were the perfect training for the non-stop barf-fest of the first and second trimester of pregnancy.

    Reply
    • The pukey parts of early pregnancy did, in fact, bring back a couple memories. Only without the wife acting ridiculous first. And it was a little smellier.

      Reply
  2. I’m actually counting the days with you. This shows how exciting this whole thing is for those of us who read your work–and, thanks so much for washing up after the barf. It does prove you are Daddy material!

    Reply
    • Well, I try. I’m pretty sure my major job as a parent is just to stay clean and look like a decent human being as a role model to Squatch.

      I’m glad to see people are counting down with me. I’m hoping by the end, everyone will be screaming the countdown like New Year’s Eve in Times Square.

      Reply
  3. It occurred to me recently that I can’t in good conscience ever knowingly get bombed again just for the fun of getting bombed. Not until C is an adult, anyway. My last blog post reminded me of this. (Little secret that I can tell you because my mom doesn’t read your blog, but I was all-caps WASTED during that whole ordeal in my last post.) Anyway, it kind of makes me sad that those days are over, but whenever I get nostalgic I’ll just remember that a hangover feels a lot like the first postpartum week and I’ll get over it real quick 🙂

    Reply
    • That was a hell of a drinking story. My best one involves me dancing. With a pork chop. While I ate it. Juicy girl wins.

      Probably the best part about Friday was that I did the drinking so early that there was no hangover on Saturday. And I don’t think I was ever actually that drunk—I’m just a lightweight who never really even takes so much as an Advil or drinks more than a couple beers in an evening. It’s officially the first time I’ve ever puked from drinking.

      Reply

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