How To Tell You Are A Drunk, Part Two

You play the same song 20 times in a row at top volume at three in the morning and are certain the neighbors don’t mind because, you know, it’s such a kick-ass song.
Your idea of karaoke is falling off the stage while yelling “Rock and roll!” into the microphone.
You have threatened to murder and marry the same person in the span of a single happy hour.
You watch ‘Behind the Music’ and think “That’s really not that much alcohol.”
You get cut off in absentia.
You forget how pants work.
You’ve never taken a lesson, but after eight drinks you’re pretty damn sure you can play the piano. And break dance. At the same time.
You hate it when your lightweight drinking buddies get so drunk you can barely see them.
You’ve apologized to people you don’t remember meeting for things you don’t remember doing in places you don’t remember going.
The words “Last Call” physically hurt you.
You lost a fistfight with yourself.
Bars call in their off-duty bartenders when you walk in the door.
When buying floor tile, you press your face against it to see how comfortable it would be to sleep on.
After your fifth drink, you’re like Don Juan with the ladies:
They Don Juan nothing to do with you.