fracas

Quite some time ago, Mark gave permission for fracas to occasionally give out a blogitude.com asshat of the day award. I’ve found another reason to do so.

I don’t have their names, but I’m sure wherever a fraccy reader lives, also lives someone who bears a (behavioural) resemblance to these folks who are the lucky recipients of this asshat of the day award.

It goes like this…

This past weekend, a very tired fraccy woman (me) happens to be in the earlier stages of what turned out to be 13 hours in the emergency room of a local hospital, when none other than a very drunken (and in fact unconcious) bloke is wheeled into said emergency department. It seemed this likely recipient of a Darwin Award  fellow had rendered himself unconscious due to large amounts of alcohol consumed while spending large amounts of time in a hot tub.

This, while surely being a noble and worthy use of emergency personnel, (because I’m sure they just lack for heart attack patients and/or children whose heads have become stuck in a variety of unique places) was followed by the entrance of four of his drinking chums. They, despite knowing their friend is the equivalent of a paperweight in the next room, proceed to wait out his unconsciousness by engaging in conversation that involves nothing but a comparison of which one of them is the worst alcoholic, how many times they have ”blacked out” during this school year, how much alcohol they have each consumed at any one time, and so on and so forth. Imagine that their little brains actually managed to find enough alcohol related conversation to fill up close to two hours worth of chatter. How very lucky we all were, to have them their to fill our time!

Now fracas is not a violent person, and yet, fracas was very tempted to  inflict some pain upon their drunken arses. Only fracas is a mom, and fracas understands that behind each one of those idiots college students, was probably a parent who loves them. Instead, as I moved to another waiting area with myself and my fraccy child… I gave them a verbal dose of the fraccy fury at how ignorant and stupid their behaviour was and how as a mom I can assure them that their behaviour hurts their parents and people who care about them. I am not ashamed to say that I used an f-word in conjunction with the word “stupid” in the commission of the description of their behaviour.  

And so today, I choose to award them and every other idiot who, while a friend is lying in a hospital bed with alcohol poisoning, cannot find one brain cell left that hasn’t been rendered useless and so uses that time to revisit every drunken moment in their own life as if it would prove them to be anything other than someone with an IQ slightly less than a bag of dog feces, the asshat of the day award.

Oh heck.. I’m feeling generous. Anyone who bothers to abuse alcohol in such a way is a lucky winner today. Take it… and wear it… because I’m sure you’re probably shit-faced enough to not realize it’s a damn trophy and not a hat. Yes… I do know it’s called the asshat of the day award, but honest… it’s not really a hat. You probably would wear the damn thing. It’s what happens when you let Mr. Whiskey or Mr. Vodka/Scotch/Beer or even Mr. Sugary Liqueur have free access to all your brain cells.  

So wear it as proudly as your friend wore his vomit into that emergency room, and I hope you know that if you keep up that lifestyle, you might even be lucky enough to have it engraved it on your tombstones.

I’m sure Mark won’t mind.