It’s been a while between blog posts. Again. I suppose that’s what happens when you’re spending most of your time riding the intense single parenting train, and the remainder of it trying to be a grown up with a career and a social life.
But something got me giggling recently, in a very non-health-professional, snort-laughing kind of way. And you’ll be pleased to hear that it has nothing to do with Pete Bloody Evans.
Last Saturday night was a big one on the social calendar. The grade 3 parent mixer for my kids’ school. It was going to be wall-to-wall couples, but I’ve known these people for four years now, and they’re a pretty cool bunch. So I did what any self-respecting, awkwardly single parent would do – I took a deep breath, poured myself into my favourite supportive undergarments, put on my I’m Doing Better Than Okay face, and hit the scene.
Being a school event, it was local. Meaning that most of us were within stumbling distance to our front doors. And being parents, the feeling in the room was a mixture of exhaustion, and unbridled joy, to be out and kid-free on a Saturday night.
It started out nice: convivial, catching up on kids, jobs, holidays. And then it got a bit rowdy. And then there was dancing. And then, all of a sudden, there were a lot of rather inebriated people in the room. Parents – most of us in our forties and beyond – and yet it was like we were transported back in time. Back to a time when it was de rigueur to get good and sozzled. To hug and exclaim ‘I bloody love you!’ on the streets, and (inexplicably) to drink Bailey’s on the one-train-stop journey home. Hilarious.
A friend, to whom I was relating the evening’s festivities, asked me this question:
So on a scale of 1 to David Hasselhoff, just how inebriated were you?
I guffawed! Because we’re all familiar with David Hasselhoff at his slurring worst. And because as a health professional, I’m a sucker for a quantitative assessment tool. Entertainingly, we set about fleshing out this scale, and filling the gaps in between.
So without further ado, I give you The Obama ‘Hoff inebriation scale*. It’s a thing now – I’ve registered it. Please feel free to use it in your day-to-day practice.
Obama is after your first drink or two. It’s nice. A bit cheeky. You’ve got that happy buzz going on, and you’re working the room. It’s a good place to be.
Tom is that excited, energetic zone. You know the one.
Are you a bit drunk? Nah – you’re just invincible. You spontaneously hug people. You might fist pump the air. And (in my personal experience) this is where you might start pulling out some dance moves. You’re on fire. The room loves you!
The Tobey is where things start to get a bit silly. Funny faces. Impersonations. Gossip. Poking fun. Giggling. You’re hilarious, and so are your friends.
Ah Bill! Who wouldn’t love Bill?
At this stage you’re getting pretty loose. Silliness is peaking. Coordination may be a little lacking, but it’s funny. EVERYTHING IS FUNNY! In fact if we all just stayed here at number 4, the world would be a pretty happy place.
It has to be a Pam / Simon / Paris montage for the half way mark. Because at this stage you’re cutting up rough.
You might be Pam (the body is willing but the eyes are getting sleepy), you might be Simon (of course you should take a traveller for the trip home), or you might be Paris (surely no-one will notice if you take a little rest while you’re down there?).
Number 5 is where costume malfunctions start to happen, and it’s only a matter of time before you lose your footing. It’s the ‘I bloody love youse all’ mark, but the dignity is slipping.
Oh dear. When you’ve reached the Britney stage, you’re not fooling anyone (even if you’ve convinced yourself that you’re making a good fist of it). The smile isn’t quite getting there, and the eyes are unseeing. Best get yourself home – it’s all downhill from here.
Okay, Keifer’s gotten himself good and drunk.
He’s bypassed the sleepy stage and gone straight to rowdy and inappropriate. Clothing is optional, and apparently pants-off at the table is pretty amusing. He’s also fallen down for a bit there, but he’s not out for the count.
If you get to Keifer, you’re not going to remember a lot of the night’s proceedings. And you may wake up without your pants. Fun at the time, but in retrospect, not really advisable.
Yikes! Gary’s not in a good way. He’s dishevelled. He’s finding it a challenge to keep upright. His face says it all really.
DRUNK. And a bit surly.
Oh Courtney. Can I get you a stretcher?
This is about as drunk as you can get without going the Full ‘Hoff. Mouth open, eyes clocked off for the night, pasty, sweaty, highly vomitous. There’s nothing pretty about getting to this stage. She’s wasted.
David Hasselhoff – AKA The Full ‘Hoff – is a sad state of affairs, I think you’ll agree.
He’s on the floor, eating with his hands, down to one syllable words. All dignity is gone.
The only redeeming feature about getting this drunk is that you’ll have no recollection of the event. Although if your kids are around and handy with the phone camera, it may just come back to haunt you.
Nobody ever means to go The Full ‘Hoff. But sadly, it sometimes happens.
*Disclaimer. Obama to ‘Hoff is not a scientifically valid assessment tool. And I’m not saying that drinking to excess is classy, or clever … but maybe it’s a bit funny when celebrities do it…