It’s my Job!!

Chaz’s point of view – Oh no, it’s another “The Drooling Moose” story. This one starts out innocently enough. I wanted to party. It was a Friday night and I had been home from work for a couple hours when the urge hit me. I was in a drinking mood, but wanted company. Donna readily agreed, but she also wanted to drink, so who was to be DD. Luckily, Brooke, our daughter was home. She wasn’t old enough to drink, but was old enough to drive us. She was 18 or 19 at the time. Well, that was three people, but I wanted more company. Shaun was tied down with his girl friend at the time and Chris was busy with his real family, so I had to find others. I called a friend of our, Teresa, to see if she was available.

Teresa was still at work, just hanging out, talking with the person that had to be there until 10. It was now about 8:30. I asked her to leave, but she said she had to stay as Steve, the person actually working, was going to go get a tattoo and she was to be moral support. Teresa explained that Steve was going to have a Suzki symbol tattooed on his entire back. Yes, he wanted a motorcycle emblem permanently engraved on his back. Although it’s probably apparent, I have to mention that Steve was young. Real young!

I asked to speak with Steve and began trying to talk him into coming drinking with us instead of getting a tattoo. He was pretty wishy-washy, but I finally asked him –

“What would his boyfriend think having to see that every time they had sex?”

This convinced him that maybe it wasn’t such a good idea. By the way, Steve was/is heterosexual; I was just messing with him. I think he wasn’t gay. He had a lot of girlfriends, but he also painted his toenails, so I am not sure. He might not have known himself. Anyways, Steve decides to go out with us, but he was in a dilemma as he had to man the phone on the company help desk until 10. I told him to go ahead and log out for two reasons – one, I was the boss and could do so & two, I was on call and would get paged, if any one called. So, Teresa and he were on their way to “The Drooling Moose”.

Brooke, Donna and I get in the car and head that way also. We arrive and I continue my drinking spree. After about 20 minutes or so, Teresa calls and I talk her through finding the bar. We spend the next two or three hours talking, listening to the band, and drinking a lot of alcohol. Well, Brooke was drinking pop and rest of us was doing beer. I made sure I drank Brooke’s share. Toward the end of the night, the conversation moved to how most computer geek’s party hard and drank a lot. This discussion went on for awhile. Forgive me for not remembering the particulars, but alcohol does kill memory cells. Now, what was I typing, hmmmm.

Oh, the conversation was about partying hard. Now, it came to pass that the Fates decide this was a moment to teach Brooke a life lesson. I was to be the messenger of that lesson.

As one grows older and experiences life to its fullest, one comes to realize that there are some things one shouldn’t do. Things like –

Don’t screw with IRS!

Don’t call a cop an asshole to their face!

Don’t dress up in a pink ballet dress to go to a bikers bar! Well, maybe not everyone experiences that, but you shouldn’t do it. Trust me on that one.

And another important one is...

Don’t dare a drunk to do something, unless you really want it to happen!

See at her age, I am sure that college had provided her with many examples of drunken stupidity. What Brooke didn’t realize was that even older people, i.e. parents, also lose IQ points when drinking. This naivety caused her to jokingly ask me (the drunken one) to stand up and yell at the top of my lungs “I party like it’s my job!” I stared at her for a few moments with a puzzled look on my face. I am sure she thought I was wondering why she would think I would do something that dumb.

In reality, I was trying to figure out what she said. My brain had slowed to the point where I was processing one word at time and then putting them into something that resembled a sentence. Finally, the light bulb went off and so did I. I stood up in the middle of the crowded bar; screamed “I party like it’s my job”; sat back down; and had a drink of my beer. For some reason, we left shortly after I did that. Not sure why, but I think it was because Brooke was having a hot flash. At least her face was awful red.

Even now, a few years later, Brooke still doesn’t ask me to do anything when I have been drinking. She’s a smart girl!