Paul Parillo on being day drunk

It’s 9pm, do you know where your pants are? Of course not, you started drinking at 2 in the afternoon, and by the time all the midget firefighters with hand-me-down Halloween costumes had finally left, your pants were long gone – like your dignity. Sound familiar? You were victim to the elusive and ironically voluntary act of being day drunk. Both perilous and potentially rewarding, enjoying some alcoholic beverages shortly after breakfast can be both perilous and potentially rewarding – wait, I already said that  -it must mean it’s doubly true!

Sometimes it’s a rainy day, sometimes it’s a boring day and other times it’s just too difficult to cope with witnessing your hamster get skull raped by the back wheel of a Honda Civic; everyone has reasons and everyone has skin, the point is, it’s subjective. But do you really need a reason to drink during the day? Yes, because causality will always reign over everything, even indecision.

It usually begins with the insatiable thirst for alcohol – not in a decease riddled alcoholic kind of way, but in the “hey, why not?” variety of persuasion. One drink goes down, then the next – and as you loosen your inhibitions/orifice receptacle, the rest of your productivity shortening beverages find their way into your blood stream and now you’re drunk – and it’s only 2pm. And as I said before, and as I said before, and as I said before, it’s a sneaky scenario, and if played right, a fun one.

Assuming this is a day off for you (hopefully at least - going to work drunk is dangerous game) you can look forward to some daytime activities. After adorning my ears with some headphones and blasting what could emphatically be described as “Jock Jams”, I’ll usually set my sights on the grocery store. I’ll go in for fruits, vegetables and meat, but come out with cat food, tampons and a jar of Greek yogurt (and I don’t have a cat, vagina or a tolerance for lactose). The mall is always a good bet; spending hard earned cash with virtually no conscience inhibiting you is a liberating experience. Sober me: “this fedora would look good on me if I was bald, unoriginal and a pervert”; drunk me:” this fedora would look good on me”.

If the mood strikes you down from your adventurous spirit and you find yourself immobilized on the deliciously comfortable couch, there’s still some fun to be had. Perhaps your favourite “guilty pleasure” movie is on the TV while you sit on facebook updating your status until someone comments on it, validating your self-perception of how funny you think you are. Or perhaps you message old flames in hopes they’ll want to meet up again/forget how you tried to molest them.

The trickery of day drunkenness isn’t so much the liquor passing through your veins, but the time that remains constant and forever in motion. The hours pass quickly and as you become more inebriated and incapable of common bodily functions, you realize your activity options feign to a point of non-existence. Usually, when the time arrives you’ve already spread yourself too thin, and as the midget firefighters leave, you realize its bed time. One might say you’ve wasted the day by being drunk, and others would probably agree, but as long as you had fun, they can all suck a cat’s dick.

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