Posts Tagged 'Drunk'

I’ll show you mine, if you show me yours…

I have writers block. Again. I let my imagination go wild when I run and think about the many stories I’d like to tell or the all of the random shit on my mind I could write about, but when it comes down to actually writing it–sitting down at the computer or with my journal–it’s just not happening. In the meantime, I just keep reading. Here’s what’s piled on my nightstand at the moment:

Flannery O’Connor The Complete Stories (Still!)

David Foster Wallace Consider the Lobster (Should probably just buy this one and return it to its rightful owner.)

John Steinbeck East of Eden (Always. But this is the paperback edition.)

Michael Pollan In Defense of Food (Quick read and hard to put down. I’m actually a little surprised I haven’t finished it yet.)

E.E. Cummings Tulips & Chimneys (Just received this as a gift, but very excited to really break it in.)

Women & Fiction: Short Stories By and About Women (So many fantastic [modern and postmodern] women writers crammed in one little book!)

In other news, weenie dogs really seem to enjoy beer. My estranged son, Buddy was a bit of an alcoholic and I’ve recently found out that my BFF Dottie also has a penchant for beer. Last Sunday, while enjoying a little hair of the dog (that bit me), someone knocked over a beer that was on the ground and Dottie ran over to lap it up. Now, while she is a fat weenie dog, she’s still a small dog and by the time my dad came over to wash the spill off of the bricks, she had already had quite a bit. The next thing I know, while lying on a lounge chair in the sun, enjoying a beer myself, I look over and see Dot on her back with her miniature limbs out limply in the air, lying in the sun. I wish I would have taken a picture. Clearly she was wasted. What normal wiener dog lies on their back? ( I know Dottie does occasionally, but this is usually when she’s wedged in between pillows.) As I kept watching her (and laughing at her), she very, very slowly tipped over to her side which is where she stayed until she had to pee.

What did I ever do before Dottie?

I’d like long hair now, please.

So, it’s not as if I don’t have anything to write; it’s just that I haven’t the patience to write it. But I’ll give it a go…I just don’t know where to start…

This past month has been…different. Obviously, I’ve been dealing with the fact that I’m leaving San Francisco; the place I’ve called home for the past two years and that’s been an ever changing struggle in itself, but one that I feel I’m handling quite well (now that I’ve pretty much gotten over the denial). For practically the first half of this month I’ve been out of state. At first I had only planned on being gone for about 4 days, but then decided to further my denial about leaving and going away for 10 days instead; making moving out of SF out of sight and practically out of mind. Clearly I enjoy putting off the shit I don’t want to deal with until I absolutely have to.

So, as you may (or may not) remember, I made a small post about my last trip to Minnesota: Misuse of drugs and alcohol before the flight, hangovers, petrified cats and insomnia. It was a quick trip, so I didn’t really get comfortable until the last day I was there. This trip was a little different…

Now, I know you’re thinking, “Minnesota?! What a joke! What could there possibly be to do there?!” And you’re right, there isn’t much. However, it was a nice break from the city. To start, I hung out on my brother’s yacht on the Mississippi for the first four days I was there. From airport straight to yacht. It was fantastic. I relaxed, I swam, I ate, enjoyed time with my family, I took in the scenes. There was live music and fireworks every night.

Once we got back to my brothers house, my week consisted of sleeping in, going to the pool and swimming laps, drinking coffee, reading, writing and exploration. All of this I did with my new BFF Rex:

Rex the MinPin aka TinyWonderDog.

Rex the MinPin aka TinyWonderDog.

He was pretty awesome. I honestly didn’t like him much when we first met–he was tiny, pea-brained and seemed to have zero personality. Turns out, he was just shy. We seemed to have a connection and it was sad when I had to leave.

Now, I’m sure this all sounds relaxing and easygoing, but this is where that all ends; because on the last night of my trip I was fairly positive I was going to die! And no, I’m not joking. I was sending out text messages to those near and dear to me letting them know that I love them because I was 99.9% positive that it was all going to be over after that night.

Long story short, I got in the car with someone I trusted, but didn’t know well, who also turned out to be drunk. He was driving 110+ mph on a windy, two-lane highway in the rain, drunk. And the Camero we were in didn’t have airbags because they had already been deployed at one point or another. The driver had also totaled his truck just a few weeks prior because he was drunk (go figure) and hit a tree.  (My brother is under the impression he hit a deer that ran out in front of him, I didn’t get the real story until I was already in the Camero going 110 down the highway.) Anyway, the next thing I know, there’s a sharp turn in the highway and we’re doing 360’s all over the highway and land in a ditch (that we almost weren’t able to get out of). I felt as if I was in a video game or bad action flick. I kept envisioning us flipping over and burning alive or spinning out of control into another car or tree next. Either way, it was going to be painful and I was going to end up dead on some podunk highway in rural Minnesota. I kept trying to think of a way to escape the situation, but all of my solutions left me alone in the near dark, in the rain, in the middle of nowhere. Let the text messaging ensue.

To be continued…

How to Lose Friends and Alienate People While Intoxicated

I’ve done it again!

Another episode of temporary insanity. You would think that I learned my lesson last time, but apparently these things just don’t register with me…I don’t even remember most of my night which is terrible to begin with, and when I was told some of things I did and said, my first reaction was laughter. What a fucking nut I am! But as the day of recovery has gone on and things have started to sink in, I really do feel quite terrible about last night. Don’t get me wrong, I really was having a wonderful time…until all the alcohol hit and I realized that I lost not only my camera, but also my ID, transit pass and dignity.

I keep getting told that I really wasn’t that bad; but to tell someone that they’re no good in bed (whether true or not) is just rude and unacceptable (and, honestly, slightly humorous)! I can only imagine all of the other shit and word vomit spewed from my mouth if I was wasted enough to say something along  the likes of the aforementioned…ugh, I don’t even want to think about it. It makes me cringe. And what’s even better, is that fact that while wasted, I deleted every piece of drunk texting evidence. I woke up this morning (feeling as though I were about to die) to a blank, empty phone. Brilliant! I amaze myself sometimes.

Actually, as I write this, I’m slightly conflicted. Part of me is fairly embarrassed, sad and upset over my actions last night and the other half thinks it’s one of those, “shit happens” kind of situations and the best I can do is shake my head and laugh it off. I mean, this dude doesn’t like me anyway, so does it really matter that I made a complete ass of myself in front of him one night? I’m sure I’ve done much worse and life goes on and one day I won’t even remember this (hopefully).

This time I did make a (lame) attempt at apologizing; so I guess that means I’m trying. The main thing to remember is this: refrain (as in DO NOT) have 5 shots of whiskey, 5 beers and that motherfucking vodka! What was I thinking?! We hate eachother. We’ve never gotten along and we never will. I am never drinking vodka again (or 5 shots of whiskey with 5 beers). End of story.

I’m sorry, two words/I always think after you’re gone/When I realize I was acting all wrong/So selfish, two words that could describe/Old actions of mine when patience is in short supply

I wish my iPod player had a remote.

So, this past Christmas I did something really stupid that I felt incredibly terrible about. Actually, it started Christmas Eve and I accidentally let it leak over into Christmas day, ruining the whole day. I still feel guilty about it, and probably will for quite a while. Anyway, I think my mom put it best when she said to me, “You ruined Christmas. I think you should apologize.”

Of course I did. And will continue to do so.

(For those of you who might remember the post I made months back about the Amy Holton on YouTube in the pumpkin costume drunkly dancing about; you’ll also remember that that is in fact NOT ACTUALLY ME. I know there are many similarities [i.e. being wasted, dancing, making a fool of ourselves, etc.], but it’s just not the same Amy that lives here in the good ol’ U.S. of A. Just a reminder and clarification. Thank you.)

“I may be soft in your palm but I’ll soon grow hungry for a fight and I will not let you win. My pretty mouth will frame the phrases that will disprove your faith in man.”

This is an apology that you will never actually see.

This one is a little personal:

I have once again drunkenly out-done myself. I didn’t think I could possibly get any better, but apparently I can with the help of my old, deceitful friend, Mr. Vodka.

Please believe me when I say that this was truly an accident. I swear on my beloved, deceased, best friend, Tuffy. Clearly, I did not remember New Years’ Eve of 2006 when Mr. Vodka and I first hooked up…which ended in regret the next morning, which was when I decided to swear off of him and all of his flavored friends. I just couldn’t trust myself alone with them.

Fast forward two years later: Disco, Drugs and Drag Queens is the theme and the celebrated event, my roommates birthday. I was persuaded to wear ridiculously sexy, leather-looking leggings of the Lindsay Lohan fashion with a slinky gold top, and needless to say, I was scared. I have short stubs for legs and the top was held together with one little string. Never in my life have I considered myself “sexy” nor purposely dressed the part; so a good stiff drink was in order. Having also been a little tired from the previous night, I decided to mix my Rockstar energy drink with vodka. Who knew that Rockstar would mask the taste of vodka so well? I kept topping my drink off with vodka thinking there wasn’t enough in it because I couldn’t taste it…I had two red cups of this mixture before the party even started…plus a shot of Goldschlagger to get the party started…

As my roommate Kiss described, it was as if I had an “on/off switch”. One minute I was fine, the next, I was all over the place. I could have been running around naked and I wouldn’t have even cared. I was dancing, DJ’ing and dancing some more. At one point I ran to my room for whatever reason (probably to find my phone and then proceed to drunk text) when my computer caught my eye. I immediately got on and started drunkenly chatting with friends. At one point I remember how incredibly difficult it was becoming to type and the next…? I got a text from a particular friend whom I was really looking forward to seeing/snoogling/hanging out with that said he wouldn’t be making it to the party…it was all over after that…unfortunately, another friend got the brunt of my anguish over this situation via internet chatting and I didn’t even really realize it until the next morning. That was the most painful conversation I have ever had to reread in my life. And embarrassing beyond words. I can only imagine what this person must think of me; especially since he has not talked to me since and I’m too ashamed to do anything about it. When I told a friend of mine this story, she assured me, “This will be funny in a few months, it is now. [He probably thinks] that you’re a crazy bitch. Hahahaha. It’s cool. Take comfort in the fact that you’re not, and that makes it even funnier.” And she’s right. So that’s what I’m trying to do.

After I made that mess, came the uncontrollable tears. Huge alligator tears that I just couldn’t stop from crying despite my best efforts. I literally cried all of my make up off and was a mascara-tear streaked mess. I really wish I had a picture of what I had looked like. When I try to imagine it, I get that Hole album cover in my head, the “Live Through This” one; only 10 times worse. I know I must have been sobbing pretty hard because my eyes were all swollen the next morning. It’s amazing the way Mr. Vodka can fuck with me and intensify my emotions.

Around 3am a friend woke me up to check on me. I immediately ran to the bathroom to rid myself of the bottle of rubbing alcohol I must have drank–that’s what it smelled like anyway. As I stood up, I caught myself in the mirror–hair wildly disheveled, make up completely gone, and one false eyelash still attached with my party clothes on. I couldn’t help but laugh at myself and wonder what in the hell happened.

So, to those of you that I missed at the party because I locked myself in my room and passed out wasted around 11:15pm, I apologize. I’m sorry I missed all the dancing and debauchery to be had. And to the person who I wrote, “Please don’t ever see me again” (or maybe it was “talk to me again”? I’m not sure, I erased the conversation because it was too terrible to keep) and spewed word vomit all over, I am sincerely sorry. I paid for it the next morning, believe me.

And to the man–nay, the boy who made me cry, I still hate you. (Not really, but it makes me feel better to write that…and with time, I’ll get over you just as easily as you seem to have gotten over me.)