The Drunk Meme

[funwithmemes]

The Drunk Meme

 

"I may be drunk, Miss, but in the morning I will be sober and you will still be ugly." - Winston Churchill

1. Drinking Games. You're at that special level of drunkenness where previously unimagined things start to sound like a good idea, like another drink. It's cool, I know this great game that will inevitably end with everyone involved being totally wasted. You play until... shit, what were the rules again?

2. Unsolicitied Advice. Oh man, you suddenly know the solutions to all of life's mysteries. All it took to figure it all out was half a pint of whiskey! It's time to tell all your friends how to fix the problems with their personal lives, whether they want you to or not.

3. Drunk Texting. Frankly, you can't IMAGINE why anyone wouldn't want to hear about how drunk you are right now. If only you could remember where the vowels are on this tiny keyboard. Drawing inspiration from TFLN is encouraged.

4. Tell them How you Really Feel. You lost some of your less important inhibitions three or four drinks ago, and it's time to tell it how it is! Time to hunt down the person you love, or possibly the person you hate, or even just the person you don't ACTUALLY despise, and bare your heart to them in a way that you'll almost definitely regret tomorrow morning.

5. Karaoke. Shot through the heart, and you're to blame! You give love... a bad... something...

6. Terrible Ideas. This is going to be so awesome, guys. I've got the skateboard, and I'm handcuffed to Steve... is the camera rolling? And who's lighting the fireworks?

7. Flirting. While all that booze may not have enhanced your charm, it certainly did wonders for your ego! Time to find all the hottest dudes and/or chicks in this place and make them swoon before your gin-powered charisma.

8. On the Streets. What better way to follow up a good bar run than by drunkenly wandering the streets in the middle of the night? There may be loud, embarrassing singing. There may be puking in the gutter. You may be completely lost, and not sure why that police officer is speaking Italian.

9. The Next Day. All that you took with you from last night's adventures was a blur of jumbled, confusing memories, a lampshade with googly eyes drawn on it taped to your head, and a brutal hangover. What exactly happened here? And who's that sleeping next to you?

Taken from this post.

Comments

sod rolling. AWKWARD DRUNK TIEMS GO

[finefinefinefinefine]

[Martin so rarely does pubs. He doesn't like the noise and, more to the point, he never really has anyone to go with. But right now, he's grounded in Fitton for a few days, and he and Paramount Martin are finally getting around to that pint... or five.

All the same, Martin figures he's going to chalk this up to a failure, since he's still not a big fan of the atmosphere. Along with the noise come the crowds, or maybe it's the other way 'round, but either way, crowds are inconvenient when one is trying to exit the loo and head back to one's table.

They can very easily result in a near-collision with the young woman one has been thinking about approaching for the last hour.]

...oh. 'Scuse - sorry. I'm so terribly... pardon.

yessss

[coordinated]

[Clara rarely does pubs, either, especially not pubs in Fitton. But the girls from the office had dragged her out for Aisling's birthday and several rounds later, she's having a decent time - even if this man barreling into her nearly knocks her off her feet.

She catches herself on the back of someone's chair, stumbling on her heels that hadn't been too high before, but seem way too high now.]

Be careful, please!

[finefinefinefinefine]

Yes, thank you.

[He realizes as it's just passed his lips that that doesn't make a whole lot of sense, but it doesn't matter because yup, he's completely heading back to the table and pretending this didn't happen.

Cue another ten-minute stretch where Martin does return to his table, and Paramount Martin asks him what that was all about and why didn't he make a move, and Martin proceeds to fuss about how hard it is talking to girls when they want to discuss things like hobbies, until finally he's worked up just enough courage, or possibly just enough self-loathing, to give it a go for real.

He finds her by the bar and does his best sidling-up.]

Hiiii.

So sorry, again, about earlier.

...you know, I am. In general.

[coordinated]

[...o...kay. Clara stares after him for a moment, then shakes her head and continues to the bar to get her next drink. She returns to the table with the other girls, then has to go up to buy a drink for Daisy when someone sidles up to her.

Because that is unquestionably sidling.]

Earlier? Oh - when you walked into me? It's, um, it's okay.

[finefinefinefinefine]

No, it's not, I really don't think it isn't, because I am, as I've just said, generally.

Careful.

I mean that I do take a lot of precautions in general.

[coordinated]

Then you ought to be more careful in drinking establishments. They're already quite -

[She presses her lips together as she tries to think of the word.]

- free-wheeling as it is.

[finefinefinefinefine]

Yes, good. Good advice.

[A pause, and he glances back toward his table. Maybe he's losing his nerve, or he's forgotten what to say, or both. But whatever he's struggling with, he gets over it eventually. Sort of.]

Let - meee -- buyyouadrink?

[coordinated]

Sorry? What was that?

[finefinefinefinefine]

Let me buy you a drink? T'make up for it.

[coordinated]

I, um -

[She glances at him, then nervously back at the table where her friends are waiting. Daisy gives her two thumbs up, and elbows Aisling. Aisling looks over, glances at Martin, then also gives Clara two thumbs up.

Well, at least this is Daisy-and-Aisling-approved, which is not the most comforting thing, but it's better than nothing.]

- all right.

[finefinefinefinefine]

[He's all set to deflate, mumble something about how it's all right and slink away. In fact, he's already barely beginning his slink, and then...

...oh god, did she actually say yes?]

Did -- what was that?

[coordinated]

I said yes.

[She blushes, looking away, wondering if she overplayed her hand.]

Unless you don't want to; I'm - that's all right.

[finefinefinefinefine]

No! No, I think you're lovely. I mean that. Would be lovely. What... can I get you?

[coordinated]

[WHAT.

WHAT.

DID HE JUST.

OH.]

Oh, um, just a - just a cider, please. Thank you.

[She swallows, then offers him her hand.]

I'm Clara.

[finefinefinefinefine]

[He goes a bit pink, and shakes her hand.]

Clara. Yes. Hello. [To the barkeep:] Two ciders. Thank you.

[coordinated]

Thank you.

[She shifts from foot to foot, awkwardly.]

...what's your name?

[finefinefinefinefine]

[Sorry, Clara, Martin's been over here for the last few seconds feeling like the floor could drop out from under him at any second. Also (successfully, as it happens) holding back the urge to giggle.]

Ummmartin. Martin. I'm... god, I am really rather drunk right now.

[coordinated]

[His introduction makes her giggle, a remarkably un-Clara-like sound, and the emission of said sound makes her blush and cover her mouth.]

You don't come out here often?

[finefinefinefinefine]

[And now she's laughing. Which could be a bad thing. Or a good one. Martin is temporarily saved from over-thinking by the arrival of their drinks and her question.]

Out here... to the pub? No, not very often, no.

[coordinated]

Thank you.

[Picking up her cider, she awkwardly fiddles with the bottle, eyes lowered.]

I don't, either. They're quite noisy, I've found.

[finefinefinefinefine]

Yes, quite noisy, usually. Also crowded, which of course can lead to... collisions.

Is'it a special occasion?

[coordinated]

It's her birthday.

[She nods back to the table with her co-workers, where Aisling is currently taking a shot.]

That's the only time I really go out.

[finefinefinefinefine]

Oooh. Well that's good, isn't it?

...who's she?

[coordinated]

Her name's Aisling. She's my co-worker.

Are you here with someone as well?

[finefinefinefinefine]

Mm-hm. With Martin.

...who is my friend. He's also called Martin. I don't make a habit of referring t'myself in the third person. I'm not a psychopath.