Showing posts with label alcoholics. Show all posts
Showing posts with label alcoholics. Show all posts

How NOT Drinking Alcohol Can Kill a Mofo

Much to Patsy's dismay, I recently fell off the wagon.  Well, it wasn't really to her dismay in that I never actually TOLD her I started boozing it up again.  But, if she DID know, that heifer would be dismayed for sure.  Know what I say to that?  Fuck it.  Fuck Patsy and her skinny ass self.  I did my research, bitch!  A single shot of straight vodka only contains 100 calories... and ZERO sugars.  That's right.  NO SUGAR.  And, according to Lance Armstrong's peeps, wine has even fewer calories.  At first I was like, "should I trust Lance's peeps?  Lance is a crack whore... maybe I should do some fact checking"... so I dug a little deeper and found some amazing news from the Calorie King. Only 96 calories in 80 proof vodka!  If the fucking king of calories says it, it must be so!

Also, 96 upside down is 69.  My lucky number! And... I made it six weeks without consuming alcohol. That's gotta be some kind of world record or something.  Where's my fucking prize?

During this time, I learned a very important fact: Being sober for long periods of time will give you homicidal tendencies.  No joke, people.  Why do you think sober people are so fucking loony?  It's because they are fighting hard, every second of their lives, not to kill a mother fucker.  When you consume adult beverages (in moderation, of course), you enjoy that "I don't really give a fuck" attitude.  Which is nice when you're like me, genetically prone to craziness.

My excessive sobriety almost made me kill:

  1. my neighbors for being inconsiderate assholes every fucking day
  2. a waiter for accidentally looking like that creepy red-headed guy on CSI Miami
  3. my daughter's friend for suggesting that I was too fat for my jacket because it wasn't zipped up
  4. my sister for suggesting that I am fat by asking me to go to the gym with her
  5. my dog for taking a gazillion hours to find the perfect spot to take a shit
  6. my nail lady for suggesting that my entire face needed waxing
  7. the ice cream truck man for charging $2.25 for a fucking popsicle
  8. the snow plow driver who splashed me with slush when I was scraping ice off my windshield in a fucking blizzard
...and that's just to name a few.  So the fact that I'm officially off the bandwagon pretty much means that I bought a one-way ticket to heaven.  I'm like Mother Teresa - except way hotter.

Vomit, Nudity and Tequila

Patsy:  How are you doing without the booze?

Me:  Do you think I'm an alcoholic?  Because I most certainly am not.  If anyone MIGHT be an alchy it's Hubber.  That mofo drinks beer every day!  I only have a swig or two of vodka a few times a week.

Hubber: Hey, now.  I only drink beer daily because you make me!

Patsy:  She MAKES you?

Hubber: Yeah. She's collecting beer bottle caps. She told me I needed to drink at least a six-pack a day in order for her to have enough bottle caps to finish some stupid table thing she's crafting.  She did calculations and mapped it all out!

Me: Oh, yeah.  I forgot about that. I'm not really going to make a crafted, mosaic bottle-capped table.  I just like him when he gets tipsy and dances around the house in him skibbies while the dog howls.  It's quite entertaining.  And, seeing how we're broke all the time, I have to get my entertainment any way I can!

Patsy: No alcohol.

Me/Hubber:  Yes ma'am.

Which reminds me of the very first time I had to swear off of the booze.  That time, though, Pasty wasn't there to force me. I did it on my own.

I was 17-years-old and had just broken up with my boyfriend.  And by "broken up with", I mean "dumped by".  Back then I got dumped a lot.  I'm sure they did it because they were intimidated by my intelligence and beauty.  They figured I'd be famous some day and I'd end up breaking their hearts when I ran away with Johnny Depp... so they beat me to the punch and dumped my ass early on.  Back in those days I was a real drama queen (boy, how times have changed).  Usually, REVENGE was my cure for the blues.  What better way to avenge my broken heart than by crashing a house party with a bottle of tequila in one hand and a hot dude (who drove a Camero) in the other?

Turned out, the joke was on me that night.  The last thing I remember clearly is seeing my ex with some big-boobied floozie and deciding I'd spend the rest of the night taking tequila shots and swapping spit with the Camero Boy. After that, the night is a complete blur.  At one point, my legs gave out on me and I fell on my knees and I blanked out.  When I came to, I was in a strange bed, wearing a Depeche Mode concert shirt that was too tight and Camero Boy was cleaning someone's vomit up off the floor.  I picked up the phone near the bed and called one of my girlfriends to tell her that someone at the party had stolen my shirt.  Then, I blanked out again.  I woke up the next morning in my own bed with bloody knees wearing nothing but my panties.

That was when I swore off tequila.  I was married with children the next time I ever drank nearly that much alcohol in one sitting....but I'll save that story for another time.  Suffice it to say that it also involved vomit and nudity.   And not in a good way (unless you're Hubber).

My point here (if there really is one) is the fact that I can't have booze right now isn't necessarily a bad thing.  I'm probably performing a public service.

But, y'all better watch out!  When I get to hit the bottle again, I'm gonna hog wild!

I wonder what ever became of Camero boy..