so as my friends in memphis as well as my parents have seen…i’ve been drinking a lot lately…lost weight…not eating correctly anymore….i’ve definetely been locked into that mix of celebrating the future while mourning the present kind of mentality.
so today i woke up and i was like “okay lets slow down a little bit, got a lot to do this month”. i came home, did a nice 45 minute run in the lovely new orleans june. despite my raging alcoholism i’m running faster and farther every week. shrug.
anyway, after my run, shower, eat dinner, watch some internet tv and walk marla. i talk with my neighbors for a bit, come home and drink half a glass of jack daniels. there’s a bottle of wine but i figure i’ll have the one glass of jack, plus the run earlier, i’ll be asleep in no time.
so i’m sitting there in my leather chair reading tom clancy, drinking my glass of whiskey, realizing i’m fitting into a really sick stereotype here. i finally wander back to the computer room for “just a sec”, completely awake again. i really don’t want to commit to opening a bottle of wine late in the evening, especially after a glass of whiskey. there is no beer, nothing. except some zima’s left by alecia last week.
i walk in, look at them, walk back to the computer room. i might be a alcoholic but i’m not drinking zima.
a few minutes pass. the justfication wheels spinning like a smoothly oiled machine. i go in, open a zima, put it into a pal’s cup and walk back to the computer room. walking out of the kitchen i laugh to myself at the obvious “if i don’t know it’s not really a guy, he’s really a girl” tranny analogy which is now a staple of crackhore. if i put the zima in a pal’s cup i can pretend it’s whatever drink i want!
now i’m thinking about how depressing it would be to cut myself while drinking zima over being a alcoholic forced to drinking zima. that has 17 yr old livejournal written all over it.
makes me want to cut even deeper.
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