Why didn't you tell me I was like that when I was drunk??

Maybe I was a weird kid destined to have a liver the size of a hickory nut, but I can actually remember wondering what kind of drunk I would be when I became a grown up. Would I be like my grandmother, from what I hear was a very nasty drunk, even though I missed some of her classic drunken moments because I was born too late she did punch me in the face once while she drunkenly attempted to teach me how to fight when I was 6. Or would I be like my father, a dude who could be downright nasty and degrading when he was sober, but as soon as he got some liquor into his system he was the nicest motherfucker in existence. I mean, he was so generous and kind he would make Mr. Rogers look like a stark raving lunatic, emptying out his wallet and giving me and my friends loot to the point that I was probably the only kid in the world who wanted his father to be constantly drunk. But I will say, as it turned out, I'm a pretty well mannered alcoholic if I say so myself. I'm nice to people, I'm the life of the party, I'm quick witted and can talk the underwear off of anything with a pulse and a vagina, and I'm not annoying in the least. So I thought.

For the last few months I have been working out like a fucking triathlete and lowered my alcohol for the sake of losing 20 pounds. Some of you think that I did that to be healthier, because hypertension, heart attacks, because diabetes runs in my family, or even because I wanted to be smaller again so I could start fucking skinny chicks again. Wrong on all counts, I lost weight because I read in a magazine that getting rid of your gut would make your cock look bigger, so if a fucking optical allusion can make some dirty tramp think that I am packing more heat than the devil's gay lover, then so be it. But also, being sober more times than not nowadays, I have learned from some of my friends that I'm not the cool guy that I thought I was when I 'm intoxicated. I have learned something very unsettling, a sobering(pun intended) slap in the face so to speak, the behavior that I thought was the epitome of "cool" was just me acting like a baboon's ass for all the world to see. Here are some of the things, according to my friends, that I do when I'm drunk.

I tend to Freestyle: I don't know what it is, but whenever I have had my fair share of drinks I start thinking that I am KRS One or some shit. I couldn't tell you how many times I have ended a bar-room argument by slapping the table and saying "Come on, let's go outside and battle bitch!!" like I was the human embodiment of the movie "Beat Street". Even when I have been to some shit kicking country bars with my best friend Danny, I have challenged red-neck-tobacco chewing-Toby Keith fans to a spirited match of verbal jousting, even grabbing the karaoke microphone and saying "Come on Bill Ray Cirus, you won't be talking that shit once I dazzling you with a metaphor, smack you around a bit with a few similes, even assassinate your ass with an astounding amount of alliteration!!(grabbing the mic like a gun, imitating Dirty Harry) Come on, give me a reason!!!" The sad part about all this is what happened when I did find some guy that accepted my free style challenge.. As he started rapping he was ripping me to shreds, something a wanna-be wordsmith like me didn't expect, so I knew I had to come with the proper artillery. So when it was my turn, knowing that I was defeated, I did what any man would do in my situation..I sucker punched that motherfucker, standing over him and raising my hands like Rocky Balboa screaming "I win!! I win!!!"

I have a severe case of Beer-goggles: When it comes to looks I never claimed to be a matinee idol or anything, just an average looking guy who has been fortunate enough to have women above my "pay grade" let me penetrate them occasionally. I mean, my self-esteem isn't totally in the crapper, if me and Biz Markie were to stand side by side and you were forced to pick one to sleep with I like my motherfucking chances, but I don't think I turn heads so to speak. But when I have had a few drinks in me I am what you call an equal opportunity employer when it comes to the chicks that I will try to get with. It's to the point that my boys will call me "Shallow Hal", because regardless if your are blind, cripple, or crazy, HumanityCritic will let you be a part of his illustrious "stable" if he is under the influence. You know, I'm not particularly mean to people if it's not provoked, but when a woman that I tried to get with when I was drunk tapped me on the shoulder and asked me "Why didn't you ever call me?", when I turned around and saw her face I uncharacteristically coiled back and screamed "Jesus fucking Christ!!!".

I Attempt to B-Boy: When I was a kid I loved to get my dance on, dazzling the white boys in my catholic school with my popping skills, my locking abilities, and superior groundwork that would make that Kelly chick from "Breakin'" turn me into a man while Chaka Khan's "Ain't nobody" plays in the background. Lets just say that I got a bitter dose of reality when I went to visit my cousins in Queens and got served up by real B-Boys, who knew years before I did that that "Breakin'" movie was unadulterated bullshit, laughing at my "signature" break-dancing move that I busted upon them. What move you ask? Ok, I would do a pop move, bring it down, raise up my shirt and roll my stomach, bring it down to my legs and then bring it back up again. I thought it was dope, but I quickly realized two things. 1)That I was a terrible dancer and 2)That the white kids in my catholic school were an extremely easy crowd.

Anyway, when I'm drunk I suddenly think that I am an official member of the Rocksteady crew, exuding a confidence only exhibited by Michael Jordan or the criminally insane. Imagine this, a chubby bastard trying to look graceful but actually looking like he is having a seizure, attempting back-flips and other such ariel maneuvers that a man of my girth shouldn't even attempt without wearing football gear, a mat to land on, and a professional spotter. I couldn't tell you how many times I have been awoken to a friend's phone call saying, "Hey, if you are sore this morning it's because you tried a backflip off of the stage and landed on your head. It was cool for a moment, because for a split second you when your dreads were scattered across the floor you looked like a black mop." Oh, and yes you guessed it, I always incorporate my "signature" move in all my drunken B-Boy sessions.


I talk women's panties back on: If I had a dime for every time I heard a chick say, "You know the other night I was going to fuck your brains out but you fucked it up!!!" I would be Donald Trump rich, ok, Donald Faison rich. Being that I just knew that my pick-up lines had sniper-like accuracy, and the fact that I would usually black the fuck out after a heavy night of drinking, I had no idea what the fuck these women were talking about when they would say such things. That was until a few things came back to me like a George Bush Vietnam flashback, you know the ones where he avoided going to war and spent most of his time sniffing blow off of some chicks leg, I realized that my drunken behavior prohibits me from counting the pimples on the booty of someone that I planned to sexually frustrate. Like the time a chick had agreed to go back to my house and I said: "You know, let's just go outside and fuck in the backseat of my car. It's warm in there, I have chips you can snack on, and we can just cut through all the awkwardness of me shoving you the fuck out of my door at 4 A.M. What do you say sugar-tits??" Or the time when this hot little number was whispering what she would do to me in my ear later on that night, getting me harder than Chinese math and shit, I thought I would whisper sweet nothings in her ear as well. I leaned over and whispered in her ear: "Ohh baby, you know what I'm going to do to you when I get home?? I'm going to let you go down on me and I won't reciprocate. I'm going to gyrate on you like a toddler having a seizure, then clumsily ejaculate around 2 minutes later. Baby, you are going to want me to finish but I will fall fast asleep as you lay wide awake wondering if you felt anything at all. On top of that I will never call you, I will ignore you if I ever see you in public after that, and if you try to confront me on it I will act like you are a complete stranger. So how about it, your place or mine??"