The importance of food and rest to the funtional alcoholic

This last week I learned some things about myself. The most amusing thing is that I am a beast of a drinker, but only when I prepare. I am presently producing and crewing a small show in the east village, which leads to many late nights at bars. I am also unemployed, so there is no reason to not get blotto every night. During this adventure, I have come across some truths about drinking. Come along with me.

Rule 1: Eat Something!
Wednesday night was the first and only dress of the show. Needless to say, nerves all around, and a combo of stress and art always give me the urge to drink. Finding that the cast and crew were all to tired (or sensible) to go out, I met up with Hubris at the Irish Rover in Astoria (I will probably dedicate a whole entry to this place later). Now the only thing in my stomach at this point is a slice of pizza consumed around noon, and roughly 5 liters of diet pepsi. A smart man would grab a late night meal, or just go to sleep hungry. I decide a liquid dinner is in order, and start pounding the Harp. Hubris and I have a lovely evening, I bitching about theater, he bitching about women and work, and us agreeing that Arsenal is, in fact, by far the greatest team the world has ever seen. At some point in the evening, he starts suggesting we call it, and as he does this, I down a full pint, not chugging just drinking, in about 7 minutes. I am not a fast drinker, but I threw that beer down like it was the missing part of my being. I only had about four beers that night, but I woke up with a buzzing head the next day, all because I didn't eat.

Rule 2: Shots are magic, but work like time bombs
The next night we opened the play, and about half the cast and crew went out to the Continental to celebrate. Now as a producer, I am always concerned about team morale, so I made it my mission to make sure everyone had a good time. I then begin to order shots for everyone; cast, crew, co-producers, people's friends, people's parents, everyone. This goes on for about an hour, and just as I begin to start thinking sensibly, the costume designer, Mr. Gunn, takes up the mantle and demands round after round of soco and lime. This goes on into the night until Hubris gets off work and comes over. He brings with him a girl he worked on a show with. Now he had previously mentioned that I would like this girl and should 'get on that' as the saying goes. Of course, the moment she arrives is the same moment that my brain finally catches up to the seven shots and numerous beers that I have been throwing around. So I spent the show remainder of the evening just trying to make sure I can still speak, let alone appear to be a charming human being. Sorry Hubris, I will catch you next time.

Rule 3: Burning the candle at both ends will catch up with you
Friday night nothing odd happened, but worth noting I once again was out late slamming round after round of JD shots and beers. Saturday, I head up to meet Uber260 at a fundraising party for a new theater company at the Irish Rouge. I do not drink heavily, but by 2 language becomes a theory and not a practice for me. I take this less that I went crazy that night, but this was the forth night in a row I got wasted (not drank mind you, but achieved massive, wake up the next day feeling like you got slammed around by half the UFC, drunkedness), and I think this was my body's way of saying "Stop, if you love me, you will stop". So I spent the next evening watching Iron Chef and eating take out.

there, some words of wisdom for the aspiring drunkard. Next up, a tally on some of the best bars in NYC.