Dark Side of Drunk: Jimmy's Irish Lair, Part 1007

Twelve hours of drinking will make your recall fuzzy. Thank God I carry a pen with me at all times. With a combination of cocktail napkins and credit card receipts, I can reconstruct almost any evening. This one's sketchy, but here's what I've got:

"Is he fanning a fart or is he slapping your ass?" Diva asks.

"Huh?" I look up at Big Guy, who is indeed making a motion with his hand that could go either way. I shrug. Time for another drink.

Mascot stumbles to the bar with me as Elvis begins to croon on the jukebox. We begin to reminisce about the Elvis impersonator concert we attended in January and lament the fact that Mascot was the only one actually dressed like Elvis. And then we attempt to harmonize with Elvis and each other…it's so bad that Big Guy sneaks away. Then Mascot is yelling over the bar:

"I have a tab! First name N-O-T; last name G-A-Y!"

I'm still standing at the bar when Big Guy returns from the bathroom. "No more puggums up in this house. Don't know what it means…but damn! I sure miss it."

How can they get rid of bathroom graffiti like that? Intrepid H wanders by and almost trips over Big Guy.

"Big Guy sticks out his leg and 14 people trip on it," he observes.

"Which leg are you talking about?" I ask, and then laugh maniacally at my hilarious joke. Big Guy just smiles knowingly.

Ooops! I emptied my drink again! Big Guy winks at me and nods to the bartender. "Bartender, one more empty glass for the lady."

Awww. Isn't he the greatest?

Meanwhile, El Dilector is getting antsy. "It's the witching hour and I need to get the f*ck out of here."

But he doesn't leave. He stays right where he is, on his bar stool. He squints down the length of the bar. "Oh my GOD!" he exclaims, narrowing his eyes to clear his vision. "Oh, never mind, it's not her."

"Who'd you think you saw?" I ask. "That one from last night?"

"El Dilector, I'm getting you glasses for Christmas!" Big Guy yells. "That girl last night was FUGLY!"