funny drunk
For the most part, I think of myself as a merely moderately funny person. Sure, some of the posts here are (to me, at least) reasonably amusing, I’ve done my share of improv comedy in the past, and, like most people, I’ve at least toyed with the idea of leaving it all for a career as a bumper-sticker writer (“Honk if you’re Amish” being an easy hit). But, really, I don’t see myself headed off on the stand-up circuit any time soon.
Still, in the past few months, I’ve been told repeatedly that, with a couple of drinks in me (and here, by “a couple”, I mean seven or eight), I’m pure comedy gold. While I’ve long had a vague sense that I’m at my best with all sheets to the wind, I rarely have clear enough memories of the conversations that take place in such a state to suspect any talents beyond drunken self-delusion.
With a slew of recent confirming reports, however, I’m now increasingly sure that I really am in prime form when liquored up. Perhaps that’s because alcohol inhibits my (admittedly already meager) desire to be liked, leaving me free to make all the sarcastic, assholish (albeit self-deprecatingly sarcastic, assholish) comments that spring to mind.
At first, I was only vaguely pleased with this inebriated talent, as I suspected it might push me past the level of belligerence that even the bitchiest girls would find charming. But that opinion changed when I awoke this morning with some young lady’s phone number scrawled on the back of my hand, though with only a vague recollection of to which young lady in particular that phone number might belong.
With a quick phone call to another party attendee, I was able to attach a name to the number. But I was also advised that actually calling the girl (at least while sober) might not be the best idea, as I’d apparently convinced her that I was a.) an Australian illegal immigrant, and b.) a performance artist who’s signature piece is a lengthy strip routine, while in black-face.
When it comes to the pick-up potential of ironic humor, it seems there really is no such thing as too much.