Drunk politics is a family affair

Last night I went to a party with my mom, my sister, and my cousin. My mom has all these thirty and under friends, some of who went to high school with me. So hanging out with these folks is always fun because you never know who from your high school class is going to show up carrying around eighty extra pounds (that was mean, but it's true). Actually, the fun part is seeing people from high school as ME, who I am NOW, and not who I was in high school. Not that I've become anything particularly special, but now i am more "dueña de mí misma."

since my sister decided to come and she is not 21, she was our designated driver (she wanted people to know that she wasn't drinking NOT because she's not 21, but because she was the dd). so, i thought to myself, why not get a little silly. i didn't drink at all friday, and it rarely ever happens that i don't have to be responsible for a moving vehicle at the end of the night, so i had to take advantage.

after a few glasses of malibu on the rocks, the interesting conversations began.

first, i get into an argument with this guy who has described himself as a "renaissance man." There is a misunderstanding; i in my drunken state of enlightenment think he was talking about dressing up like someone you'd see at the renaissance fair (i don't know why i thought that) so i tell him that that phase (ie, trend) was gone, it didn't even happen in the nineties so it was never going to. He's like, what the hell are you talking about? Then i ask him what he meant by his "renaissance man" description, and he says it was because he does all kinds of different things (i believe this conversation began when my mom asked him what he did for a living). Then i ask him what he meant by that, because renaissance means rebirth and it didn't make any sense in the way he used it. Without a comeback, he says, "well it's not like i'm wearing a north face jacket." yeah, what did that have to do with anything?

Then, after a few rum and cokes, renaissance man announces that he doesn't have anything else to talk about. so he suggests politics. i tell him not to get me started. anyway, what results is: i rave drunkenly about how W can't say the word NUCLEAR properly, i go on about my string theory (that is, that he can string important key words together, such as freedom, leadership, terrorism, patriotism, etc, with other non important two or three letter words, in a sentence that doesn't even make sense, and the General Public is so stupid that they would still applaud him!). Then, he tries to argue with me about why it's ok for him not to vote, but fortunately other boys came over and take up the conversation where i am either too drunk or too dumbfounded to carry on. What ensues is a long discussion, among anti-W people, about whether it even makes a difference if we vote. or something along those lines; i am still stuck on trying to talk about the Stupidity of the General Public. This discussion comes to a rapid halt when my cousin jeff takes his sweater off and puts it on top of the fire. "I didn't like that sweater anyway," he says, as all the anti-Ws stare astonished as the sweater goes up in flames and the polyester melts over the wood.

after the insistences of my sister and jen (we had to give her a ride to her car) i leave the party at 1:30, giggling obnoxiously at the sound of my own laugh rising up over sleepy Palatine. I want to stay, the political conversations were getting better and i keep talking, imagining that i sound intelligent. it's probably good that i left then, that was the drunkest i've been in a long time.