yubathetuba wrote:As a public school teacher I define a bender as: "June, July, and August"
I know many a teacher who will attest to this.
Welcome aboard! Tradition has it that the newb buys a round for the house. I'll take a martini or three. Better yet, just mix up a pitcher and have one yourself while you're at it.
cheers!
Going to happy hour and not drinking is like going to an orgy and masturbating. You just took a great idea and turned it into a circle jerk. -Sixpack595
Another night another bender
No return and no surrender
Wake up trying to remember
All my wrongs
I'm not looking for forgivness
Fucking up is how I live this life
Cause otherwise it takes to fucking long
-Stray Bullets Bender
I'm not lookin for forgiveness
Fuckin' up is how I live this life
'Cause otherwise it takes too fuckin long
I've never been on a bender, it was just life. While living in the glorious kingdom of liqour known then as Louisiana, hard-core drinking just was a way of life. Surely just a phenomenon of my own peculiar physiology, but for some reason after a few days of non-stppage, I just don't seem to be able to get hearthe "click"...hence my notion of ceasing the bender when the liver ceases to deliver. Not to denigrate anyone elses's binge. To me., it just seemed a damed waste to continue throwing hooch down the hatch to no purpose...but I'll defer to Oggar.
Just got back from a 5 day bender in Western Mass. Didn't shower, brushed my teeth once. Was drunk the entire time. Very tired right now.
"The Edge... there is no honest way to explain it because the only people who really know where it is are the ones who have gone over. "
-Hunter S. Thompson
Stiggs wrote:I've never been on a bender, it was just life. While living in the glorious kingdom of liqour known then as Louisiana, hard-core drinking just was a way of life. Surely just a phenomenon of my own peculiar physiology, but for some reason after a few days of non-stppage, I just don't seem to be able to get hearthe "click"...hence my notion of ceasing the bender when the liver ceases to deliver. Not to denigrate anyone elses's binge. To me., it just seemed a damed waste to continue throwing hooch down the hatch to no purpose...but I'll defer to Oggar.
If you mean that after a certain period of time you lose the ability to feel drunk, then I'm with you. It's happened. And it pisses me off!
Stiggs wrote:I've never been on a bender, it was just life. While living in the glorious kingdom of liqour known then as Louisiana, hard-core drinking just was a way of life. Surely just a phenomenon of my own peculiar physiology, but for some reason after a few days of non-stppage, I just don't seem to be able to get hearthe "click"...hence my notion of ceasing the bender when the liver ceases to deliver. Not to denigrate anyone elses's binge. To me., it just seemed a damed waste to continue throwing hooch down the hatch to no purpose...but I'll defer to Oggar.
If you mean that after a certain period of time you lose the ability to feel drunk, then I'm with you. It's happened. And it pisses me off!
I hate this feeling. It has only happened once or twice but that was enough.
It was about the 6-7th day of a bender last year, I'd started the day by finishing the bottle of Beam that I woke up cuddling. The drinking was at a steady rate all day. It was 6PM all of a sudden and I needed to get down to the pub to watch the origin. I felt completely undrunk but decided to get a taxi anyway (I'm on a 0.00BAC limit). Got to the pub grabbed a beer, and I had managed, walking from the bar to the pool tables, spilled 1/3rd of my beer.
The only words that I had said since being there were 'Schooner of Vb thanks' and a quick hello to all the boys, and the manager came over and told me to settle down.
I don't know if I just looked like death or what but I sure as shit felt undrunk.
Its weird how benders distort time. Its strange to think a week ago I was in my second day of a bender. Seems like 5 minutes ago.
"The Edge... there is no honest way to explain it because the only people who really know where it is are the ones who have gone over. "
-Hunter S. Thompson
I'm stuck between Oggar's anecdote of the Old Man and the fish (may both RIP) and Clark's poetic saga into the mystical beyond. I belief both have their merits, yet I'm more inclined to agree that the Bender takes serious, back-breaking, will-straining labor, as opposed to being mere cathartic recreational enjoyment of alcohol for a protracted period.
I've gone on some serious jags before, and I can say for certain that it took every ounce of testicular fortitude and a tenacious capacity for self-abuse to wake up and keep taking straight rips of the Kentucky Dale right out of the bottle for two weeks (or so, lost track fairly early on). When your body has lost the will to fight off sleep for the night/day/morning/afternoon/etc., eye lids unable to remain open, brain unable to remember the circumstances that facilitated the emergency shutdown of the body, and then you wake up some random and indeterminable amount of time later, with the same sonofabitch bottle that floored you last night still gripped tight in your fist, or half-poured out next to you on the living room floor, it takes serious gumption to lift the fucker right back up, kiss those burning lips, and slug down that shit like you just went down for an 8-count and got back up swinging. Doing this for weeks running, in post-Katrina New Orleans in a destroyed Victorian no less, blowing through a grand and some in bar tabs, cab rides, strippers, smokes and bottles, was perhaps the most painful, glorious, and transcendent experience of my life. Only later was it revealed to me that I had been fucking the cute girl from the liquor store down the street, was 86'ed from the bar two blocks over, and had picked up a nasty little cocaine habit (which took two weeks of serious self-imposed detox to kick, with only bottles of cheap whiskey for company).
And I can say this much: There was no catharsis, no magical mirror at the end of the road which revealed the truth of life; just an aching liver, teeth that were about to fall out from lack of dental hygiene for half a month, and a screeching in my head that wouldn't go away until beaten into submission with Bloody Mary's and a three-day nap/ coma.
In conclusion, I must defer to Oggar's analysis. Willpower, balls, and a capacity for self-inflicted pain. As eloquent as Clark was, I know where I stand on the matter.
I don't care what they say about you... I think you're alright.
In younger times, month+ benders were NOT uncommon. Those were the days of roadies and drivers and tour managers and always one more line...
In fact, I wanted to have a Rock & Roll game show called "Where's My Line?"
"When a ba-and loves a wo-man..."
"Man i once bought $101 worth of insect candy because it was free shipping on orders over 100 bucks." -- ThirstyDrunk
"I wanted a shark high on crack dumped into a piranha tank! I wanted college AD's to pull their human faces off, then dive at each other's lizard throats!" -- waahoohah
Barca wrote:
Finally, these are the discussions befitting the Modern Drunkard board.
I have a theory, only a theory not a truism, about your question.
That's why we train, that's why we drink day in and day out to become great Drunkards. So that when we embark on our great bender people will welcome us, greet us with smiles and open conversation. When we engage them, even drunkenly, or especially drunkenly, they'll be happy we arrived, and they'll both facilitate and enable our journey, hopeful that we'll return in the future.
By being a good Drunkard, a funny Drunkard, a wise or a witty Drunkard, you encourage others to encourage your drinking. In turn, they treasure your company and entertain you while you embark on your magical drunken voyage.
If you're a lesser drinker your absurd, puerile drunken antics will be unwelcome and your every step will be fraught with peril. The Modern Drunkard, however, will always be treated as a welcome guest and each drink is as an extra hundred Frequent Drunkard miles, and Booze is your travel agent. Keep drinking, keep flying, the Bender creates itself.
I have more to say on the subject, but I will pass the mic to the next veteran traveler.
That is fucking beautiful.
there are worse things than
being alone
but it often takes decades
to realize this
and most often
when you do
it's too late
and there's nothing worse
than
too late.
can you consider it a bender if you spend the 3 weeks with only one other person? cuz you still learn alot about yourself but you also get a bit of personal help from this one person and vice versa. plus when you wake up you can both help each othe rout with the missing memories.
Oggar wrote:Employment is the natural enemy of a bender. If you want a real one spend those vaciotion days and say "Fuck Hawaii!" It's time to deplete the war chest.
Oggar, I have often read and appreciated your wisdom, but I must say: my fiancee and I (that is to say, I proposed and she said "Yes" while we were in) went to (wait for it) Maui (there it is!) a few weeks ago and found one hell of a locale to five-day bender. I'm not one for fruity drinks, so I had mainly White Russians at the bar and we drank mostly JB at night. Note: in western Maui JD goes for $30.00 and JB for $14.00 a bottle. Guess which one we had nightly while on the smoking balcony of our hotel room? My open love affair with JB continues unabated.
thanks Oggar for defining exactly what a true bender is.....
I used to work graveyard (11-7) in a factory, and this bender had real consequences.
I found a bar that opened at 7a.m. and I thought that was a great thing...what better than to defeat the horrific nightmare of my underpaying job, than to get soused every morning with 60 year olds before returning home.
This lasted for more than a week, and since the weekend for midnight shift happened Friday morning, I figured I'd tie one on. I stayed at the morning bar until 11 drinking beer, then I made the horrific decision to go to a better bar to eat and get more toasted. around 1 p.m., I was FUCKING HAMMERED, but instead of going home, I decided to go to K-mart to buy a few needed things.
last thing I remembered was putting my car in reverse and------------------------------------------------------------------
I woke up to several police cars, backed into all things but....A FUCKING MERCEDES S-CLASS!! 75 THOUSAND DOLLAR CAR!
I need not describe the following embarrassment of going to the hospital so the cops could get blood...and ruin the next 3 years of my life and add to the other DUI
that was 8 years ago....that's why I get drunk at home
There's a pain, so insane that I fight but can't tame, and my mind battles on as my body lies lame---mike muir