This life according to drunk Lu, confessions of a beer & wine lover.
“Write drunk, edit sober.” -Ernest Hemingway
‘I feel sorry for people who don’t drink. When they wake up in the morning,
that’s as good as they’re going to feel all day.’ –Dean Martin
Recently, I read an article from one of my favorite blogs: Elite Daily. As an avid reader of their posts, I frequently feel connected to their lists of what it means to be a millennial #20somethingproblems. Yet, I stumbled upon a post (which I am by no means discrediting, considering it was well written) entitled: “How your drunk self could actually be your greatest inspiration.” I couldn’t help but (oops, Carrie Bradshaw reference) laugh, reflecting on what the world would be like if drunk Lu had any power.
And I have to completely disagree.
I am eternally grateful my drunk state of mind redeems no value, credit or significance in the world. Because were my inebriated self to be my greatest inspiration, this is what (my) life would be like:
1. Filled with awkward dancing.
Ahh, to the poor witnesses in fraternities, dive bars and Euro clubs that have experienced the rarest of tequila-inspired moments in which I believe I can dance. Sober Lindsey, pay attention & memorize this: you cannot (thanks, dad). If I had to describe myself in a single word I might chose: uncoordinated, albeit even in its strongest capacity, said definition does not fully comprehend that which I am. An amalgamation of clumsy, ungraceful and awkward, wherein I believe that bouncing up & down qualifies as rhythm, like a 5th grader at their first boy-band concert. (Also me circa 1998, and it was Backstreet Boys–I love you, Brian!)
Trust me, the world ’tis a far better place when my attempt at dancing remains solely in GIFs, much like the following:
Okay, look, I have no bias against tattoo’s, but they are just not me, simply put. I get bored of my favorite sweater, song & city after a month or two, I would be consumed with regret were I to modify my body in permanent ink. And yet, brilliantly, drunken Lindsey once made a reservation at an Adam’s County Tattoo Parlor (IN GETTYSBURG, PA) with a couple girlfriends. We incoherently, (I shall accredit this innovation to unnamed frat’s jungle juice) agreed to stain our wrists with a tiny pink heart (like why?). Perhaps, even more embarrassing, I was 20 at the time–not just some whimsical middle schooler captivated by Chinese symbols and inspirational quotes. Although my middle school self was much more concerned with the prospect of a belly button ring than a tat, which is kind of worse.
I know, everyone says the truth comes out when you’re drunk, but in this endeavor, such is not truth, nope, not even close. The tat’s shall instead remain intoxicated stupidity as opposed to sheer brilliance.
3. Inappropriate commentary.
A world without filters? Please, millennia’s cannot comprehend said plight, considering a difficult task includes Instagramming: X-Pro or Lo-fi, decisions, decisions. Wasted Lu believes it’s appropriate to say rude things, that are more often than not, incredibly false. I.e. uttering “I hate you” to my sister’s boyfriend, who I actually highly regard; or, whispering to a handsome man, aka my college crush: “I think you’re gorgeous,” –a memory I wish I would’ve blacked out, instead.
Repetition. I literally repeat, everything, like a freaking parrot. It’s so annoying I even irritate myself! And so, commence my poem to represent my redundant, impaired state of mind:
Life is like a poem
A haiku to simply say that:
Life is like a poem
The next great American author, and yet you’ll never read past the dedication page.
5. Illegible text messages, way too many extra calories, improper grammar and unwanted make-outs.
I think justification is implied and further explanation is unnecessary.
Who knows, maybe one day drunk Lu will rule the world.