“Look at me… I’m a prickly pear” – Nicholas Cage, Leaving Las Vegas

Just recently I told my pal Pam that I haven’t been drunk in about 15 years or so. When I think about it now, it’s hard to believe that I’ve been able to avoid this for so long. If only I could have avoided all of those cupcakes in that time, perhaps my dentist wouldn’t glare at me every time I see him.

The true reason for not getting inebriated over that time was that I don’t want to fall into the trap that most of my family had fallen into. I’d rather not get into details at this point, but let’s just say that alcohol didn’t treat any of them well.

My brother in law had suggested my autobiography should be titled: “My Nana Used To Drink Kahlua Sombreros”.

But I remember clearly that the last two times I was drunk was an omen for stopping myself from going too far.

One of those times I was out with a large group of work friends at a farewell party for one of them. It started out as a bad night getting a drink spilled in my lap. This chooch I used to work with had these enormous belt buckles that a friend & I used to make fun of. Well, wouldn’t you know it that he stood up across from me and his fucking buckle caught the table. I watched my Rum & Coke spill all over my pants! I found myself creeping past the other patrons covering my crotch to not give the illusion that I pissed myself.

I ended up in the men’s room with one leg on the sink and I was drying out my crotch under the hand dryer. That was a site to see for the other guys coming in. It looked like I was porking the dryer. I’m amazed that I wasn’t pummeled by someone.

Actually, it’s a good thing that they didn’t have those super powered Xlerators back then:

I might have become sterile.

Well, I also recall drinking a lot of V.O. straight up later in the evening, and consuming a large pizza. If you don’t want to be grossed out completely, I’d recommend skipping the next paragraph.

So, I passed out on my bed when I got home with my head hanging over the side. I remember waking up in the middle of puking. I whipped my head up to run to the bathroom. Well, that’s when the vomit started to come out of my nose! (yeech!). I was scrambling to the toilet making a trail of puke from my bedroom. When I finally finished up, I blew my nose…and a big piece of cheese came out!

I swore I’d never get drunk again.

That lasted until one night when I promised this guy that I worked with that I’d go to his house & help him beat Super Mario Bros 3 for the Nintendo system. (Sidebar: 12 years later someone actually married me, believe it or not).

I’ll call him Tom. Well Tom brought me to meet his roommate who we’ll call Jim for the story. For your mind’s eye, Jim kind of looked like a short, stocky Stephen King. And about 10 times EVERY hour, he would pump his fists up and down like this: 

And yell out “YES! … YES!… YESSSSS!”

This guy was a fucking NUT. He was a Vietnam Vet and he was telling me war stories all night. He was also ribbing Tom for his recent divorce all night. I honestly thought that there would be fisticuffs.

To start the night we went to a local liquor super store called Kappys. And we filled up a shopping cart with booze not much different than Nick Cage did in Leaving Las Vegas. ALL kinds of it.

When we got back to their house, Jim kept making me try new kinds of liquor. I’d fight him on every choice, but always give in on each drink. And every time I did he’d go: “YES!!   … YESSSS!”

I was getting sauced and still trying to show them how to beat the stupid game. That is vintage Pomeroy. I don’t know why I cared so much. Idiot.

Finally it was too late for me to catch the train to go home, so I had to sleep over! This was something I did NOT want to do, with Colonel fucking Kurtz getting crazier as the night wore on. At one point he yelled out: “YESS…. I used to cut off charlie’s ears and wear them on my belt!!! HA HA…. YES! …YESSSSS!”

I was scared shitless. He was staring at me after he said it, and I said something like: “Welll… I’mm a muh-merican….”.

I couldn’t sleep at all that night. I didn’t want to wake up to find that the guy had a machete up to my ear or something. So I forced myself to stay up all night.

The next day I saw Jim get up to jump in the shower. I heard from the shower: “YESSSSS!  YESS!” Tom came out of his room and told me that their hot water was turned off and I could only take a cold shower like Jim was taking. I politely declined. Then I swiftly left there & jumped on a train home. I looked like Nicholson at the end of The Shining. I felt like shit too. So then again I promised I wouldn’t get drunk again. 17 years and counting so far. Maybe I will again after my wife leaves me.

Oh, by the way… I STILL beat the game that night, Niiiiice.