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Last Five Hangovers...
The Ten Thousand Dollar Choking Hazard - 2004-12-09
Mixing Advice - 2004-10-24
A Grave Injustice - 2004-09-27
A Short History of the Bloody Mary (in My Life) - 2004-07-31
If You Build It, We Will Come - 2004-07-19

BE A FRIEND OF THE MOVEMENT!

In any calendar year, there are certain occasions marked with a star, encircled in red, or otherwise designated as the proper event to celebrate by getting drunker than you've been in a long time.

We here at Drunky But Funky would like to call those days "Weekdays." But let's face it, as noble and rooted in passion as our intentions are, we haven't quite worked up to that kind of guzzling gusto -- mostly, we admit, out of a fear of popping the buttons on our pants and watching our inappropriate behavior dwindle back to picking something off the floor and eating it after a gross six seconds have elapsed.

Still, the fact remains, some days are made for drinking, and birthdays top that list.

Saturday night was Heather's birthday, so we grabbed a posse of our closest friends and a passel of the worthiest boozers we know and drank as hard as we could to erase Heather's memory of that claustrophobic cruise down the birth canal.

We think we succeeded. Because, as if the drunk stumbling, rambling, loud talking, and random dialing weren't enough proof, we also have physical evidence. And so it's with great pleasure that we award Heather her first bucket of The Summer Of Excessive Drinking And Inappropriate Behavior -- punctuated, as with the first one, by repeated and excited declarations of her intent to puke immediately upon returning home. (She did.)

The bartender gets an assist on that bucket. He mixed one of Heather's margaritas with twice the normal amount of tequila, at least. This, coupled with several shots, pushed her a bit farther over the edge than she expected to go. But she went there with honor and impeccable aim.

Lauren, however, topped the bucket with a score of her own.

She spent most of the night chatting with our good friend Liz -- a worthy and honorary member of Drunky But Funky who believes in beer, baseball, booty, and all life's other beauties -- and a guy we'll call Tom, who'd been brought to the party by our pal Sam, in the hope that Tom and Lauren would hit it off and get it on.

Grinning and having a jolly old time, with Tom beginning to slur just a tad and with his hands testing out the feel of her backside, Lauren swiveled around to take a sip of her margarita, then turned back in time to see Tom having a drink of his own. A Liz cocktail, to be precise. Laughing at both Liz's shocked expression and Sam's abject horror -- he blurrily and apologetically assured Lauren that she was hot and he would himself hook up with her in a second were he not smitten with someone else -- Lauren shrugged and chugged and struck up other conversations, carefree and happy for Liz and altogether not particularly worried about what had transpired.

Which is why she was surprised half an hour later to find Tom's palm on her ass and his tongue in her mouth.

Naturally, she went with the flow, as any real disciple of inappropriate behavior would. When the night ended and we staggered drunkenly to our various modes of transportation, Lauren and Liz agreed that their disjointed threesome won the night as the most inappropriate act anyone committed. At least, until ten minutes later, when Liz upped the ante by making a booty call -- to another guy.

Jessica proudly succeeded in her quest to prove that she can get really loaded and still refuse to put her fist in her mouth. For a long time, we'd speculated that the party trick wasn't actually retired, and that if plied with enough liquor, Jessica would oblige our earnest entreaties. But she won this round.

She and Heather also learned that all those people who think women are catty should spend some time with drunk girls in the ladies' room. Apparently, when estrogen collides, it's not always the erotic catfighting spectacular of which men dream. On two occasions, Jessica and Heather bonded with the other girls waiting in line, beginning with polite small talk and descending into slurry compliments on each others' clothing, enthusiastic ogling of various makeup products, and unsolicited lovelife tips.

One girl was there on a blind date, which sparked a volley of advice and prompted her both to proclaim us all the coolest girls ever and invite us to join her and her date. We agreed enthusiastically, promised to be there for her all night and meet her in the bathroom in an hour, and then forgot all about it.

The party also served as a chance to welcome our friend Dave into the fold. Dave usually acts as the designated driver, meaning he's the one on whom we foist the camera and who gamely records for posterity all the idiotic faces we make. But Saturday, Dave had a wild friend behind the wheel for him, thus allowing Dave to dive into drunky funkyness with both feet. Welcome, Dave. Pull up a barstool and stay a while.

Finally, we regret to announce a Drunky But Funky first: negative points. Our champion drinker Michael left the party early and barely imbibed because he scheduled an optional hike, with himself, the next morning -- and apparently didn't see fit to call himself and cancel, or reschedule. We hope to see him back on the circuit and loaded beyond belief very soon, lest he become inappropriately appropriate.

Next week: girls' night. Because there's still plenty of summer left.

And then autumn.