Drunk Fatty

So this is what being an adult is like. So this is why every male adult I see has a beer belly.

Got a random email in my work mailbox about an hour ago -- saying there is a hawaiian themed party for all cnn and other turner employees. It sounds kind of corny, and I do not know many people here to begin with. I thought I'd make some new friends and may even converse with the few that I already do know.

When I got up there, there was at least 200-300 people already grooving to overplayed 1990s pop music. Then I realized I knew 0 people out of those people, so I opened a sigh of disappointment.

And then the crowd parted like the Red Sea. And in front of me was a buffet line.

I rushed towards it, and there it was. Five different types of suishi. Ribs. Pork. Egg Rolls. Dumplings. Chicken Kabobs! Salmon Kabobs! Shrimp Kabobs! Could life get any better? I submit that it cannot.

I then realize after my fourth trip up to the buffet line, that I had no one to stand next to when eating. I have become the sad co-worker that knows no one, but everyone else knows as the quiet guy who just eats by himself in the corner, pretending to talk on the cell phone.

I do not really care. But then I see another glorious revelation. I walk over to get a drink of water to wash down the food. But next to the Cokes and the Dasanis, I see wine. I realize I am not 21, but I also realize that I am the only person under 21. So I test the waters. May I have some wine, please? He's says no problem. And I sip the wine for the next few minutes. But in between sips and kabobs, I see someone with a bottle of beer.

No freaking way. So I run back over to the bar and ask if they have beer. Amstel Light or Heineken? Sweet!. Amstel Light, please.

Chug. I guess I'll have a Heineken. Heineken, please

A couple of glasses of wines and couple of beers later, I find myself in la-la land. I was only hoping the kabobs were enough to keep me sober.

I get back, stumbling to my desk. My boss jokes if he should take breathilizer test, and we laugh. But by the time he tells me that I can go at 6:15, I realize that I am starting to feel the alcohol both in my stomach and in my mind.

So I spend my time trying to sober up by drinking water, watching the mets game, and writing this blog. Meanwhile, the network's correspondents and producers walk by me, wondering why I'm still there. Dedicated young man, they think, as I type furiously into my computer.

But now, I think I can make it to the train station without falling over. I have finally realized that after college, the American population becomes nothing more than inefficient, fat, lazy, drinking people trying to relieve their own stress.

If I do not make it to the train station, however, what a way to go.

EDIT: 2 hours and sober...What the hell was I thinking? It is a horrible way to go. Who wants to go drunk in between the sweat of a fat man on the 1 train and the dirty of the platform?

Random funny drunk thought: "Why does every breast look bigger when tipsy?"