Being Drunk and Productive = Counter Productive

I've finally learnt after 3 separate occasions that being drunk, in my case, and trying to be productive has often left me in a situation worse off than improved. This is also 3 occasions that I remember because they have left a lasting effect, like when you watch all of LOST and realise that you could've stared at a giant question mark for 6 years and STILL have gotten more answers.

"Previously on LOST..."

The first of these stupid escapades was something I mentioned in a previous post before. I stumbled into my room like a bowling ball falling down a staircase and saw my curtains agape. This could not stand if I were to sleep in that morning so like a whiley racoon I decided to close them. This proved much more difficult than it appeared, my drunken motor instincts confused closing with going rigid and my balance confused standing up with...not standing up. I forgot this had all happened until I woke up and thought for a moment "my window wasn't on the floor before?". Anyways, the good thing was, I still managed to close the curtains, even if they weren't attached to the wall anymore.

The second time is also something I've mentioned in previous posts. My sister and her boyfriend were over visiting and we all were drinking here in my apartment, which is also their ex-apartment. As per usual I was using my laptop to show funny videos (probably about cats) and play music no one wants to listen to at 3 in the morning. I also felt that the laptop needed no better place to be than on top of stereo speakers, at my head height with wires protruding from it all around the room. After showing them one of the trippy psychedelic fight scenes from Scott Pilgrim Vs. The World I took my own trip over my laptop charger sending my laptop on a very brief and ultimately horrendous speed date with gravity that ended at the floor. My laptop still worked but now my screen is stuck in what I am dubbing "Scott Pilgrim mode", it's flickery, crazy, fuzzy and psychedelic making reading just about bearable and the only thing that does look normal on it is Scott Pilgrim Vs. The world.

"Currently what Hibernation Mode on my laptop is like"

The final escapade happened nary a night or two ago. I came home and realised that I had left on a dehumidifier in my room for the majority of the day and as a result my room resembled something of a giant sandcastle. My bedsheets also weren't dry nor on my bed as I had just washed them, so I decided to stay up for a while drying those (not physically, in a dryer of course) and put them on my bed, all the while letting the dehumidifier suck up any dampness left in the sheets. When all said was done I proceeded to turn off and move the unit out of my room. It was probably like watching a newborn deer learn how to walk while trying to carry a dehumidifier. As you may have guessed, the simple idea of moving it didn't go exactly as planned and much like my cutrains and my laptop it ended up on the floor with an almighty crash loud enough to wake a Kraken. It also proved it did it's job well by spilling all of the daily moisture it had collected all over my bedroom floor. Now that's what I call counter productive!

After a bitter 5-10 mins of cleaning this mess and also reassembling the unit, I succeeded in removing it from my room. I walked back into my room and closed the door. Now, this was the third thing that has fallen to the ground in my apartment because of me being drunk so I think it was at this point that the other inanimate objects decided to join in on the fun too, such as the foldaway table behind my door. It lunged itself at my foot and nearly broke my toe. If I wasn't so drunk I probably would've also noticed it giggling as glided effortlessly through the dehumidified air. The Kraken awoke, ME!

"BLUAAAA MY KRAKEN TOE!!!!!!11111!!!1"

I've decided the only thing I can't do wrong when drunk and returning from a night out is to just go straight to sleep. What could possibly go wrong in that situation?

Seán O'Beirn and the Drafty Window

I had the liberty of waking up this morning  (after several times in the night) completely non-refreshed pointy nipple cold and more congested than Paris Hilton's coochy in an orgy. As it turns out, there is a mild draft, not blowing, just falling through gaps in my window and as a result, God didn't give me lemons, just a head cold. This falling draft is the most deceiving kind, it fools you into thinking "Jeez laweez, my room sure is darn cold!" and you turn on the heat for an hour our two, only to return and feel no difference. This perpetual coldness just aggravates you as a) you've just run up the electricity bill a coupla euro's and b) it reminds you of how indifferent Winter is to my existence.

Of course, I dismissed the thought of a draft over another reason, my window has no curtains. This was actually entirely my own fault though as it was a result of one of my drunken escapades to close the curtains, in one of my ill fated attempts to go to sleep after a "few jars" we'll say. I will tell this tiny story as if to a child to mask the stupidity of my actions:

"Gather round ya'll! It's time for Seán O'Beirn and the Naggle in the Noggin!"

As Seán wavered quite peculiarly into the room rather presumptuously he couldn't help but feel a Naggle at the back of his noggin. "Seán my indulgent friend" says the Naggle, "You will be required to do laborious tasks for your work people when the Sky torch greets us!". Seán frowned a frown only a grumpy grizzly woken from a slumberous hibernation could achieve. "But Naggle" says he "If my laborious tasks begin tomorrow, why must I perform one now?". The Naggle responds with wisdom as deep as Paris Hilton's coochy "I only suggest to close   the curtains, my Lord, so as to sleep longer than the first break of tweet and light". Easily convinced at the notion of being called "Lord" Seán smiled and said "My Lord". Stretching his arms out like a greedy Godric, Seán gave tug to the curtains only to lose his grivity gravity! "Oh my!" Seán exclaimed as he fell backwards, hands still clutching the curtains stronger than a Ben Afleck's jaw. Down fell the Seán and down came his legacy of curtain-closing. As Seán lay on the ground, puzzled and quite confuzzled his Naggle laughed heartily saying "Oh Seán, what will you do next!?"


Taken out of the context of a childrens storybook, I basically stumbled into my room, mumbled something indefinable and then went to close the curtains. It basically looked like someone fainting slowly and then falling quickly while holding onto the curtains and dragging them down with me. They became stowed away for months.


Anyhoo, that's why I thought my room was so cold. So I took out the ol' curtains and decided I was gonna fix this mutha. And viola, Seán actually managed to do this, I was extremely proud of myself that I managed to put one WHOLE screw in the wall for a curtain hook. I was so ecstatic I felt it warranted a facebook status update "Has fixed the curtains in his room, I am officially HANDYMAN now", yes, I declared myself in a profession for doing the most minuscule of tasks. I was beaming, so I turned on the heat for a little while, closed the bedroom door and left the room alone, to give it a test run and see if the fruits of my labour paid off. Upon returning I couldn't quite put my finger on why I thought I had failed to fix the problem. Maybe it was because I could see my breath in my room or maybe it was because my nipples were harder than diamonds. I knew I had failed. A slight rage befell me, but I wasn't done yet.


Fortunately for me, my friend Roisín tends to leave things in my house when she stays over. Including half of her bed. So I took her double duvet and wrapped it around the curtain pole thus blocking off the window entirely with a duvet. This definitely will work, I thought, so I repeated step 2, turn on the radiator for a while and leave. MUCH to my colossal disappointment, my room was still Icelandic when I returned, with no goddam volcano for heat. So I cracked at it again, surveying where exactly this coldness was coming from. As it turned out the duvet left a small gap between the curtains and the window and a draft continue to emanate through like a light fart, minus the warmth, a below zero fart if you will. So I tried to close this gap. But only succeeded in pulling the curtains down... AGAIN.

"ccuuuuuuuurrrrRRRTAAAAINNNNNSSS!"

On rare occasions I scream when I'm angry, and this was one of them. It was one of those rage filled screams where you make a noise that you never knew you were capable of (and wonder for a brief moment "maybe I can sing!") before returning to a mellow gasping pitch. This probably terrified my new house mate just a tad but he will recover I'm sure. At least this second wave of destruction by myself left me the opportunity to figure out where this Arctic weather system was coming from. As it turns out, my window is just plain shit. All it ever required in the first place was tape, which I had plenty of and spent 2 mins applying. Voila, the solution had finally made itself visible. My rage subsided, my nipples became soft and my room became warm. I wasn't done though. Higher on success than Lindsay Lohan is in general, I fixed my curtains and re-rigged the duvet so that I now have an impenetrable fortress of warmth, go me! :)


Now, if anyone else has window problems in their lives come to me, I da man, da Handy Man.


*UPDATE* : As it turns out, my radiator has a super awesome button to make it heat twice as much, it's like a little holiday in my room now! :)