We drank our coffee, we drunk our coffee. We did not get drunk on coffee, and that is why, although it is acceptable to ask who drunk all the coffee, we don’t because of the association of the word ‘drunk’ with intoxication. It just sounds better to say ‘drank’.
I would also like to say think, thank, thunk. Because English. It thunks.
Thanks to Electronic Bag Lady and her bag of bits, I now know the meaning of this excellent word: QUAFFTIDE Go there for the definition of the word, and stay for many good reads. I think you will thank me later.
Now if you had asked me yesterday if I was done with homework for the rest of my life, I would have told you yes. But then EBL also said this.
Your homework is to tell me your terms for quafftiding like it’s 2015, and ideally also to relate an anecdote about such a party. It may involve Pan-Galactic Gargleblasters if you wish, and be purely hypothetical. No photocopiers should be harmed in the production of your story.
Although it wasn’t written in that exact annoying colour or font, still I have decided to take it seriously. Never having outgrown my nerdy tendency to complete all homework assignments ever given to me, I will now ramble off all the phrases I know or have used personally to describe what happens to you when you participate to an unhealthy degree in quafftidling events.
sloshed, buzzed, wasted, shit faced,
three sheets to the wind, tipsy, pickled, pissed,
trashed, hooped, under the influence, plastered,
hammered, blind drunk,
on a bender, ripped,
looped
blotto
smashed,
wiggy,
stoned,
loaded, half cut,
out of your tree, and totally wrecked.
There are probably more I’ve forgotten (and most of these are no doubt no longer popular in 2015) but that’s all I’ve got, likely because of what all that booze supposedly does to your brain cells. Contrary to what you might have been lead to believe (because I often talk about wine and like to put words into wine glass shapes) I don’t drink much at all anymore. My doctor asked me how much alcohol I consume on a daily or weekly basis, and I said “Just the occasional bottle of wine. Shit! I mean GLASS. Glass of wine. Gawd.”
I drink more when I’m on a holiday or with people of like mind who are also drinking of course. And I certainly did my share of partying in high school and university, and socially whenever we could get away with it while our kids were young, until we decided we should set a better example for them.
I remember how impressed W’s university friends were on a couple of occasions when I was able to keep up with them consuming draft beer. Some guys are just so easily dazzled. I don’t remember ever seeing any Pan-Galactic Gargleblasters though. When I’ve had enough to drink and can no longer feel my feet, I say goodnight and go to bed. So it’s entirely possible I passed out before they joined the party.
This months Peace Challenge: Party on Garth – Plan a party that will ripple peace to the world.
This post has been sitting in draft limbo for 20 days here at Breathing Space. Collecting dust and looking forlorn. Because I’m having one super non-peaceful disharmonious time getting it properly started. Sort of like a party that never got past the planning stages. That crucial first sentence is supposed to be the hook that pulls you in and makes you want to read more but Christmas has numbed my brain. Imagine each one of these really bad starts on a separate sheet of crumpled up paper used to practice basketball shots.
1. I hate parties. (That one sat around all by itself for two weeks) (Yes, it did.)
2. I dislike parties very much. Strongly. A lot. Please don’t make me go to your stupid office Christmas Party, I would rather poke myself in the eye with a stick. Make that both eyes with two sticks.
3. I am not a fan of big parties because they seem to consist of crazy noisy drunken crowds, music that’s much too loud with overlapping conversations from six different directions at once so that I get a headache and my ears start to buzz and I just want to go home. There is food sitting around at room temperature for way too long and I don’t want to get food poisoning and people who have had too much to drink always double dip. Gah. I don’t like getting dressed up or dancing (I won’t dance, don’t ask me) and what if there are stupid party games, shenanigans and contests….omg, do people still do that shit? Can I hide in the bathroom?
4. ….party pooper, stick-in-the-mud, wet blanket…. (thank you thesaurus, but where’s my picture?)
5. I am the exact opposite of the life of the party, which must mean I am the death of the party.
6. I can’t remember the last time I got invited to a party. Well. I wonder why.
7. I am not just doing this for the T-shirt you know……
Okay I’m done with the excuses and the procrastinating, as well as with trying to find my inner party animal, because I obviously don’t have one anymore. It took off somewhere around my 30th birthday and hasn’t been heard from since. I guess I don’t hate ALL parties though. Small celebrations and family get-togethers and informal dinner parties are all perfectly fine, as are kids birthday parties and conversations over coffee. This might give you the impression that any party I plan would be EXTREMELY peaceful, because everyone would pass out from boredom. You could be right.
However, think about this for a minute. What if World Peace Talks were combined with generous amounts of wine and cheese? Do you think there would be any more disputes and disagreements after, say, a case or two of Chardonnay each and twelve different kinds of cheese? Worth a try. You can’t fight about something if you don’t remember what it was you were mad about or why you showed up in the first place.
So my peace party will be a wine and cheese tasting extravaganza. I will set up a table of all those exotic cheeses you see in the grocery store deli but are afraid to buy because they’re so expensive and what if they’re gross? Well what you do in that case is bring them out and serve them to your guests, that’s what. Somebody somewhere is bound to like at least one of them. The choices are truly mind-boggling. Pay attention, I’m trying to teach you something here.
Don’t worry, I’ll make up little signs on toothpicks so you know what the hell you just ate.
Same with the wine. I promise to buy a variety of red and white wines based on the proprietors recommendations and not just on my inclination to try the ones with hysterically funny names.
My plan is to choose one cheese from each category and one wine from each complimentary category, pair them together and pretend I actually know what I’m doing.
There will be crackers and olives, nuts, strawberries and peaches, pear slices, walnut bread and strong dark chocolate. Figs, dried apricots, dates and maybe even some champagne. We’ll call that dessert.
Everyone at the party must participate in one action for peace. I will have been sampling wine all afternoon and will be in no condition to determine what exactly that action should be, so please surprise me.
Will this party bring more joy, smiles, love, and peace into the world? Well hopefully, because that would be a lot better result than just a bunch of severe wine hangovers.
On a much more serious note, this is a video on YouTube called The Empathic Civilisation from a lecture by Jeremy Rifkin. Perhaps I will make it compulsory viewing at my party. The Bloggers for Peace idea that Kozo started almost a year ago has generated just this kind of awareness of our sociability, attachment, affection, and companionship with all kinds of people that we might not otherwise have met. In our quest for peace we are certainly not alone. We are all family, and every one of us wishes to celebrate this life we’re so privileged to be living. It’s all about extending empathy until it encompasses everyone on the planet. That my friend would be one big party.
“With mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come.”
(William Shakespeare)
Live it up! Every day it’s somebody’s birthday somewhere. Every day of your life there’s something new to celebrate, even if it’s simply that another glorious day has been added to your life.
*********
Today is W’s 65th birthday. Imagine being married to someone so damned OLD! And both of us still crazy after all these years.
To participate in the Ragtag Daily Prompt, create a Pingback to your post, or copy and paste the link to your post into the comments. And while you’re there, why not check out some of the other posts too!
Breathing Space 
You must be logged in to post a comment.