Sandals with Socks
Waaaaaaaaa-BOOM!
Relapse, my darlings, I believe that's the word. Last night I hit it old school, and had eight cans of beer. Goddamn, goddamn, goddamn, but it felt niiiiiiice. I walked home from work, torturing myself all the way. Yes? No? I can! You can't! Let's do it! Stop, no! I hesitated at the beer vendor counter. I questioned my decision as I walked home. Questioned it as I screamed at my cat for pissing on the shoe mat, again (I just cleaned her litterbox yesterday. She's already pissing on the mat? Come on!). Questioned it after that first sickly sweet sip; right up until I finished the can.
My friends, I did not question it after that. I got good and drunk and watched a movie ( New Waterford Girl, if you're wondering. God, but canadian girls are funny looking in the cutest fucking way), and then I sat on the floor and watched favorite scenes from my movie collection. I woke up today, still drunk.
Is this a good thing? I don't know. I'm tired of whinging* about my welfare. Maybe I'll quit drinking again, maybe I'll drink myself to death. Baby, I'm just going to go for it. WOOOOOO-HA! Balls to the walls, motherfuckers**!
* Phrase courtesy of Adam.
**This phrase? I made it up.
Relapse, my darlings, I believe that's the word. Last night I hit it old school, and had eight cans of beer. Goddamn, goddamn, goddamn, but it felt niiiiiiice. I walked home from work, torturing myself all the way. Yes? No? I can! You can't! Let's do it! Stop, no! I hesitated at the beer vendor counter. I questioned my decision as I walked home. Questioned it as I screamed at my cat for pissing on the shoe mat, again (I just cleaned her litterbox yesterday. She's already pissing on the mat? Come on!). Questioned it after that first sickly sweet sip; right up until I finished the can.
My friends, I did not question it after that. I got good and drunk and watched a movie ( New Waterford Girl, if you're wondering. God, but canadian girls are funny looking in the cutest fucking way), and then I sat on the floor and watched favorite scenes from my movie collection. I woke up today, still drunk.
Is this a good thing? I don't know. I'm tired of whinging* about my welfare. Maybe I'll quit drinking again, maybe I'll drink myself to death. Baby, I'm just going to go for it. WOOOOOO-HA! Balls to the walls, motherfuckers**!
* Phrase courtesy of Adam.
**This phrase? I made it up.
posted by Dash Bradley at 3:23 PM
2 Comments:
I am no one to judge. I just called my doctor to up my Zoloft prescription. Yesterday, I was in the anger stage of depression. I went on your friend Chuck's blog and he was so deliciously angry. I enjoyed it, but I didn't leave a comment. It felt disloyal to you, somehow. Like kissing one of my husband's friends. Not that I've done that, either.
But today I'm totally uninterested in anything. I just want to curl up under my bed. I don't want to kill myself; but never having existed at all is an appealing concept to me. The worst part is my husband is home on vacation and I've been struggling to appear OK, because he wants to fix me, he wants me happy. But it's my malfunctioning brain at fault, not anything external. So who's to say your method isn't any better than mine? Exercising hasn't helped, either, in case you're interested.
Chuck is one of my best friends so I encourage people to leave insulting/derogatory comments on his site. If you leave one on the waiter site, tho, you're out of the will.
Man, it's just the worst when people want to help you, and you know they can't. On the one hand, it's great thast they're trying. On the other hand, you wish they'd back off and leave you alone. But then you feel guilty for feeling that way! Brains are bullshit.
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