When I left the house at 11:30 PM I should have known I had it coming. I pulled out of my driveway -- a black cat crossed my path.
As a rule: I NEVER drink when I am driving. Not because I am worried I will kill people, strictly legality.
Around 11:30 PM, I figured by the LA one-thirty last call I wouldn?t even have time to get drunk, so I drove. I went to the bar. I did what I usually do. About 6 to seven Bud lights and 6 shots of Jaguar pretty fast.
For me: not really drunk.
For the Law: Way over the limit.
I wound up handing out with ?Mystery? and ?Matador? from the Pick-Up-Artist (the worlds #1 and #2 pick-up-artists respectively).
At some point, this really hot girl in a tied up Slayer shirt comes up to me and tells me that she recognizes from a long time ago.
She then puts a Narco pill in my mouth.
I leave the bar and am invited to a party at mystery?s house, but decide that I just ought to go home. On my way, I get pulled over by the cops for the smoked taillights on my car, which I had just gotten a ticket a few days before.
The cop comes up to my window and I just kicked into survival mode. I?m not the toughest or smartest guy in the world, but I?ve been through enough shit that would have killed 10 other men. Considering my rather lengthy criminal record, a DUI would have sent me to prison for sure.
Somehow, I managed to pull shit together and calmly tell the cop I knew about the taillight problem. He then gave me a sobriety test, which I should have failed for countless reasons, but didn't.
If he had pulled out the breathalyzer, that would have been my ass. I wasn?t really that drunk, but I was drunk enough, plus the pills.
Somehow, I managed to make it home, so I am typing this now.
A rule I have lived for by many years and have only broken on very rare occasions: If you are going out drinking, take a fucking cab. Your freedom is not worth it.
That is all.
As a rule: I NEVER drink when I am driving. Not because I am worried I will kill people, strictly legality.
Around 11:30 PM, I figured by the LA one-thirty last call I wouldn?t even have time to get drunk, so I drove. I went to the bar. I did what I usually do. About 6 to seven Bud lights and 6 shots of Jaguar pretty fast.
For me: not really drunk.
For the Law: Way over the limit.
I wound up handing out with ?Mystery? and ?Matador? from the Pick-Up-Artist (the worlds #1 and #2 pick-up-artists respectively).
At some point, this really hot girl in a tied up Slayer shirt comes up to me and tells me that she recognizes from a long time ago.
She then puts a Narco pill in my mouth.
I leave the bar and am invited to a party at mystery?s house, but decide that I just ought to go home. On my way, I get pulled over by the cops for the smoked taillights on my car, which I had just gotten a ticket a few days before.
The cop comes up to my window and I just kicked into survival mode. I?m not the toughest or smartest guy in the world, but I?ve been through enough shit that would have killed 10 other men. Considering my rather lengthy criminal record, a DUI would have sent me to prison for sure.
Somehow, I managed to pull shit together and calmly tell the cop I knew about the taillight problem. He then gave me a sobriety test, which I should have failed for countless reasons, but didn't.
If he had pulled out the breathalyzer, that would have been my ass. I wasn?t really that drunk, but I was drunk enough, plus the pills.
Somehow, I managed to make it home, so I am typing this now.
A rule I have lived for by many years and have only broken on very rare occasions: If you are going out drinking, take a fucking cab. Your freedom is not worth it.
That is all.
~Accepting design works~ 
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