Its been a long time since I last mumbled incoherently...

... but a lot has been changing in my life recently and I'm still taking the time to adjust. Graduating from college was a big deal, but it was also a long time ago and it's about time I moved on. No matter how much time passes at my desk in the office, miles away from my video games and PJ's, a part of me remains in denial of the relentless march of time. Especially the part of me that continues to partake in binge drinking on week nights.

It's ironic that the first night since graduating where I felt like I was back in college is the same as the first night I went drinking with coworkers. It's even more ironic that it happened to be a Thursday night, an epicurean evening for most undergrads, but just a slightly lubricated late afternoon for most mature adults. (Actually, that's not ironic at all, its just a coincidence, but using "ironic" incorrectly seems to be in vogue as of late so I intentionally used it incorrectly. Now isn't that ironic.)

Although another day of work was just looming over the horizon, it was rare for me to be in a casual setting with my coworkers so I decided to just drink without inhibitions, as I usually do when I'm not around coworkers. My plan to drink without inhibitions succeeded much too well. At one point in the night, I blacked out and the next thing I knew, I really had to throw up so I just opened the door and threw up.

How does that happen? How does one just open a door and throw up so conveniently? When is one ever placed beside a door so conveniently? Well, it just so happened that I was sitting in the back seat of a parked unlocked car so everything just sort of came together. But why was I in the back seat of a parked unlocked car? And why was I the only one in the car? Why was the car completely turned off?

I had no idea, but frankly I didn't care. I was freezing, the time was 6:00am, I felt like shit, and I had work the next day. I knew I just needed to get out of there and I figured I could probably figure out how I wound up there sometime later.

As I left the car, I turned back to look at the car. This car was not a cab, but rather some random white Toyota Camry (or something like that). I don't own a car, I don't really know anybody who owns a car in New York City and generally I take cabs home, not random white Toyota Camrys. Why the hell was I in some random car?

As I left to the nearest intersection to grab a cab and get home, I noticed my unconscious ass was parked on 75th and 2nd. I live in Astoria. My coworkers and I were drining in East Midtown. Why the hell was I in the Upper East Side?

Whatever. I grab a cab, get home, and wake up the next morning for work. Of course this morning I am hung-over out of my mind. In fact, I was still feeling sick. Even as I was walking to my office I felt the urge to throw up and that's exactly what I did, right on the steps to a boutique investment bank. At least for a moment I felt really good, one for expelling toxins from my body and two for fulfilling a nice moment of class vengence.

When I finally got to work, everybody in the office kept jabbing me in the ribs with classy old-timer lines like "Howya doin' champ?", "How ya feelin buddy?", etc. Needless to say, I felt pretty shitty, but I felt even worse when I learned that I was so drunk the night before that my direct boss had to toss me in a cab and send me home. Not only that, but as she was putting me in the cab I told her "No no no, wait wait wait, there's a couple ladies I gotta see tonight before I go home." Fantastic, so now my boss thinks I make booty calls. I'm so glad she's still in her twenties and somewhat more lenient for my kind of antics.

Unfortunately, that's the most my coworkers could tell me. I still have not found out how I wound up in that white Toyota Camry (or something like that) in Upper East Side. There have been many theories postulated as to how I could have wound up in such a position, but none of them hold much weight.

1. A kind samaritan found me and tried to take care of me... so rather than taking me to a hospital he or she leaves me in an unlocked parked car? That's a really half-assed way of taking care of somebody and it leaves your car interior really vulnerable to puke stains.
2. A driver bumps me and I fall down. I fall because of the alcohol, but from the driver's perspective, he or she just killed me, so they try to hide the evidence by putting me in the car... but then wouldn't I find myself in the trunk?
3. I got in a fight with the taxi driver and kicked out onto the curb. Then searching for another car, I just crawl into the closest one I can find... but who leaves their car unlocked in New York City?

Among those three theories, the last one seems to be the most reasonable. In which case, if you woke up one morning to find a pile of puke besides your white Toyota Camry, then I'm sorry.

Maybe I should post a craiglist missed connection to reconnect?