The Morning After: You Lost Your Mind … And Your Sh*t

Posted: November 4, 2011 by divebardiva in Daily Ramblings

Okay people, clearly I need to work more often because I have been trying like hell to write a sweet little post about how much I love my regulars (which I totally do) and somehow, without the bitterness and sarcasm, it falls a bit flat.

I was talking to my lovely friend Vodka Toxic last night over Skype and wine, and we were discussing a few morning-after scenarios. I immediately thought, “Now that’s a venue for some sarcasm fo sho.”

The first tale in our walk down drunken lane revolves around my old roommate, Irish and my lovely sister, 5 Dog Fabulous. Now Irish is the funniest person in the world to drink with, and I have had many drunken adventures where he was involved.

This particular night my Mama — or Maja as I like to call her — happened to be in town visiting 5 Dog, Irish and myself. We were all sharing the top half of a house at the time. At this point in my life, I had a lot of jobs. Not one after the other, but all at once. So as was the norm, I was working.

Now let me back the truck up for a minute and give you a little insight into my favorite place I lived in the 10+ years I was in the ATL. This house was right outside Virginia Highlands … which was (and still is) one of the coolest bar neighborhoods.

The houses that surround it are all old and beautiful — and most have been converted into 2 or 4 apartment homes. The house we lived in was beautiful brick with gothic porches and each apartment had two fireplaces, hardwood floors and 3 bedrooms.  It was also $700 a month which was fantastic split between 3 peeps. The only downfall to the place was that it was next to a “church.”

Now don’t get me wrong: I may not believe in organized religion and find it to be closer to a cult than anything else. But I certainly don’t begrudge anyone the right to worship as they please. This “church” however was set aside for the worshipers of “the crack pipe.” Let me explain …

A marketing genius found some sort loophole in Georgia law and realized that if you called yourself a “church,” you didn’t have to pay taxes. Normally I wouldn’t judge a bunch of crackheads either but the guy who pulled a gun on me one night after work in front of the house ruined it for the whole bunch. So judge I did.

Okay back to the guts of the story. Irish was out drinking at a little bar called The Dark Horse and was well into a case of beer when he decided that it might be time to call it a night. Now Irish may not always be the most sensible boy but one thing he never does is get behind the wheel when he’s shit-faced.

So after he was good and lubricated, Irish decided that handing off his keys was a wise decision. So he did so. And at the end of the evening, he walked back to our casa. Now being “church” adjacent meant that we had huge black security doors that locked from the inside on both the porch and the front door.

When Irish arrived home, he was at a loss as to how to get into the apartment since he no longer had the keys he handed off earlier. He screamed up to the top floor trying to gain access to our lovely abode. Here’s how that shit went down…

Irish: 5DF’s mom…5DF’s mom…it’s me, Irish! 5DF’s mom…5DF’s mom…it’s me, Irish! I don’t have my keys! Please let me in!

Maja (sleepy and more than a little confused as it is between 2 and 4am): Irish, the key isn’t in the door. I don’t know how to let you in.

Irish: Okay, I’m gonna climb the tree and come in through the porch door.

Maja: Umm … okay. Are you sure that’s a good idea?

Like a drunken monkey, Irish scaled a huge tree and vaulted his drunk ass onto our porch. Unfortunately, the key to that door was also on his keychain, and he ended up having to sleep in one of his Nascar chairs until the next morning. The next morning, I woke up to a small dispute in the apartment of love. Irish was screaming at my sister, 5 Dog.

Irish: Where the hell did you go with my keys last night?

5DF: I didn’t go anywhere with your keys.

Irish: I gave you my keys at the bar! I turned around, and you were gone. I was locked out of the damn apartment and had to wake your mom up.

5DF: You never gave me your keys.

Irish: Yes, I did! I handed them to you at The Dark Horse so I wouldn’t drive.

5DF: Hey dumbass, I wasn’t with you last night. I was working.

Irish: Ohhhhh, that’s right. Who’d I give my keys to then?

5DF: No clue, my friend. No clue.

So then he had to walk the walk of shame. Being a good friend (and needing a beer), I accompanied him. We headed back to the bar to see if anyone may have seen what happened to his keys. We walked in and went to the bar. I looked at the bartender.

divebardiva: Hey, did anyone turn in any keys last night?

Bartender: Yeah, I was working last night. Someone turned ’em in. (She stealthily produced Irish’s keys from behind the bar)

Irish: Hey, my keys…where did you get them?

Bartender: Some blonde said a drunk guy kept calling her 5DF and insisted she take the keys. She tried to say no but he wasn’t taking no for an answer. I’m guessin that was you.

Irish: Shit.

In his stupored state, Irish had mistaken a random blonde for my sister and gave the keys to her. That’s a little embarrassment for ya.

I think we have time for one more “morning-after” tale. One night, Vodka Toxic and I were at Club Anytime (a 24-hour joint in Atlanta). It was the night before my birthday. Around 6am, I was really tired. I took some cash out of my wallet for a cab and left the cards and IDs in the wallet for VT — because she was clearly not ready to leave.

As shit sometimes happens, she lost the wallet. We returned the next day around 2 pm to try and find it. Instead, we found a guy dressed like Santa passed out in a pool of booze on the bar. What we did not find … my wallet. Happy fucking birthday to me. I never did replace my damn Social Security card. Thanks a hell of a lot, VT!

So that’s it for today, people. Just when you think your walk of shame was embarrassing, here we come to make you feel a little bit better about yourself!

With love and liquor,


  1. VT says:

    Although I deeply regret losing your wallet, we were repaid with a wonderful image of a drunk St. Nick passed out at the bar. And that, my dear divebardiva, is priceless!

    Great post, my love!

  2. tommy says:

    as many times as i ve told that story guess what , i still forget that i gave my keys to some girl i thought was your sister, imagine that!

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