bakerstreet | (no subject)

The Drunk Meme

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. Unsolicited 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. Take Me Home Tonight. Yeah, it's time to go home but you're not going alone, time to drag someone home for a hook up. Let's just hope you can get your body to agree or don't fall asleep first

10. 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?

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Encountering drunks late at night out on Skid row was nothing new; for some, it's a rite of passage. For Piers, it's uncommon enough. Especially those drunks that tower over you and seemingly confuse you for someone else and curse at you in Spanish. The Spanish you're taught by your friends and not by your high school teacher.

At first, he didn't think the roar was meant for him. It's only when Miguel charges at him like an angry bull and goes in for a heavy right hook that he realizes it's him the Spaniard's after. Why, he doesn't know. All he knows is: he's never going out drinking with his unit again.

Miguel's attack doesn't strike him. Thankfully. Piers hadn't been drinking that much and still had the wherewithal to move the hell out of harm's way, springing up to his feet and moving to ensure more than five feet of space between him and the dark-haired man. He doesn't counter, either. He's in the BSAA -- not the Navy. No random bar brawls for the fuck of it for him.]

Hey--! The fuck is your problem?!

[Case of mistaken identity or no, that doesn't mean he's actually going to try to reason him on a peaceful level, either.]

(no subject)

Oops, missed this notif.