Designated Driver

(Original Post: December 11, 2005 - Sunday)

It was finally my turn. Designated Driver. DD. Driver Designated to remain soberer than everyone else. Which isn't hard considering my friends. No biggie. $2 drinks. So get drunk within an hour and spend the rest of the night getting soberer. No problem.
Well, one problem. I'm mean when I'm sober. I'm rational. I'm strict. I'm punctual. And when I've been drunk and sober in the same night, I'm lame. I go through the whole drunk/not drunk thing in one night. This sucks because then I realize (right away) all the stupid things I've already done. And I didn't even have a night to enjoy it. The number I've already drunk dialed. The text message I keep resending because I don't think it's sending. The freak out if I don't get a response in five seconds or less. The "Are you ignoring me" message I send right away. The "Fine, fuck you!" feeling I feel immediately following that message. Geezuz. Then I'm sober, and thinking, damn it. I'm a big steaming pile of bullcrazy.
But once I'm sober, it's MDDNDAD. Mommy Dearest Designated Not Drunk Anymore Driver. I'm all about, Lisa are you listening, do you understand that we need to get the Coat Check ticket to Diane? Hello?
I'm all about, Hello Diane, did you forget we were standing outside with Ice Boogers waiting for our coats, while you are in here forgetting how to leave?
I'm all about, Lisa, please don't sing "Like a Prayer" really loudly in my face, cause I'm sober, and I don't like it. How about, you sing over there, and I sing over here? Lisa, please stop. Are you listening?
I'm all about, No Diane, I do not want another shot. I'm the MDDNDAD, did you forget? I don't want a fucking shot. Shove that shot in your ass. No, I'm not mad. Get me a water quick, I'm in hell.
I'm all about, yes girls I'm going to eat all my fries. Yes Lisa, this is the best burger in the Whole Wide World (aka WWW.) Yes, they sell a thousand best burgers in the WWW every second.
I'm all about, my name is Terri. Oh you are a cop. Where is your wife? yeah, that's what they all say. Oh you think I'm pretty? Well no shit. Oh you broke up with your girlfriend of six years, five months ago because she didn't want to have children and you are a family man? How sweet is that. Oh you want me to walk you to the bus stop? I don't think so. My friends are worried. I should get back. Oh you want to give me your number. Um, alright. Frank you say your name is? Ok, got it. Bye. (And then 10 minutes later ...) There is good ol' boy Frank making out with some chick outside the bar. He must have been serious about making that family.
And then there's, Yes girls, I see the 50-year-old couple on the dance floor. Yes, I see them. Don't point, I see them. Don't go over there to show me. I SEE THEM!
Yes Diane, I'm ready to leave. Where is Lisa? Hey Lisa, we are leaving. Why are you dancing? "I just want to dance." Damn it, Diane has the coats. "I just want to dance." We are leaving. "This is a great song." We are walking. "I'm dancing." Dance and walk drunk bitch, Dance and walk ... and don't sing in my face. "I"m dancing with this guy." Lisa, he is with the girl on the stage. "No, we are dancing." You are dancing with his back then, cause he's watching that girl on the stage. "I'm drunk and having a great time woooo." Fuck, shoot me in my face.
Every five minutes I hear them say, "Is T mad?" No Sweeties. T isn't mad. It's just that strange place you reside between not drunk and not sober, and you know you cannot drink anymore, so you are heading toward totally sober, and that place sucks when you are in a bar and everyone else is residing in that place called, I don't know my name.
Home at last. Two snack roles, an oatmeal cookie, two peppermint patties and sleep. That's how we do's it.