Yeh, I know I said these blogs were ear marked for some random person who’s name does not sound at all like mine… and who’s “soberish.” The fact is, I don’t know such a person or where to find them. I can tell you they don’t run in my circle. I need another section for that shit show right there. So for now I’m taking control of the sobriety section. Be frightened. While I promise not to drink and type (well at least this blog) I can’t promise I won’t offend or horrify you bcs that’s what I do best. Deal. There’s an art to doing these things simultaneously. Just call me Picasso. Mmmmkaay…
If there was a caption that followed me everywhere (like one of those bubbles over my big ass head)…I fear mine would say “Drinks well with others.” I am a pleaser person after all. From Irish coffee to Champs I’m your girl. Am I proud of this? Sure why not? Having a stomach of steel takes mad skills. I don’t abuse my powers. I’m your “drink on the weekend friend” who can be coerced to join a worknight happy hour on occasion. By occasion, I mean anytime you ask. I’m that friend. Always there for you n stuff. I tried being the weekend drinkie fun friend but my crowd was having none of that. What is it about Wednesday that makes people rage? Hump Day Happy Hour IS a thing! And you know what that does right? Spirals me right into Thursday through Sunday drinking. Thursday is little Friday and Friday is technically the weekend so yeah….I need new friends. Or some will power as it were….
Let’s start with Sunday bcs..well Jesus loved wine and so do I. I love that we have that in common. I think the similarities end there. Can’t be sure. I start plotting “New Me” on Sunday…every Sunday to be clear. Apparently “New Me” has quite an aggressive expiration date. Ughum. SO yeh….I wake up most Sunday’s and swear I’m not going to drink anything even though it’s technically still the weekend. When one is trying to find a loophole, technicalities come in handy. I have grand visions of getting ready for a super productive week. Yeh that’s it….I’ll spend the day meal planning and squatting. And then “someone” says “Oooooh an Irish Coffee would be great on this cold morning.” Seed planted. Visions of fresh brewed coffee warming all that is me whilst the sexual sugar of Irish Cream dances on my lips. *Pause for random inappropriate moment* And there goes Sunday sobriety. Sometimes I get the squat in. Depends on where I left the Jameson. Perhaps we should move on to meal planning. Who fucks up meal planning? Me party of 1, thank you. I’ll find any reason in the world to not cut up chicken and veggies and place them neatly into snackle boxes to be consumed like a 4 year old at lunch time. No thanks. I’ll take a bologna sandwich, cheese curls and grape Kool-Aide for 100 Alex.
So by now you think I spend my days drinking. That’s just not true. I get at least 7 hours of sleep at night. Besides this was supposed to be about me blaming my friends for my bad habits. Back to that….When you need to find a deal on something who do you call? Your friends. They are a wealth of information. Sometimes they even call you in advance of said requests bcs they are just good like that. “Hey girl! You know that wine you like? Publix has it on sale. Buy 140 cases & get 10% off. It’s a steal!” And what do I do? Get in the car, run to Publix and buy said wine. Why? Bcs It’s on sale. I’m fiscally fit. Now thanks to said friend I have a literal wine cellar in my garage. So on those weeknights when work makes me want to drive over my head with the car, I have an alternative. A slower death if you will. Recently I realized fiscally fit me was killing physically fit me and thought better of stock piling Rose’. Breakups are never easy. However, if I have to pay full price for a tryst perhaps I will make wiser decisions. Or go broke…
I can’t be sure how I got so far off track. In an attempt to tell you what a fun friend I am, I fear I have sparked the need for an intervention. Not that one isn’t needed. I’m just not sure it’s on this particular subject. There are so many other reasons I need a Livingroom full of people telling me I need to go away for a while. If it was somewhere warm and Brad Pitt was there I might even go. But honestly if my friends were sitting on my couch being “Judgie Mc Judger’s” we would most likely have a glass of wine and laugh about all the stupid shit we do. Clearly they aren’t saving me. Now if Mother shows up….shut the front door! Latch it. Bolt it down and run! She’ll lecture me about the amount of carbs in alcohol and how I good I use to look. She just figured out the Vodka from the 70’s has been water all these years. Had I known, I would have gotten away with so much more. So it’s Monday and I’m having a glass of wine. I’ve already broken my promise from the first paragraph. I have a pass. Yesterday was St. Patty’s Day. You can’t go from being Irish to sober in one day. Fact. I’m verging.