Well. Given what came to pass this weekend it's
confession time, I suppose. And what better a place than the void of (semi-)
anonymity that is E2?.
Here's the rundown, in no particular order:
- I drank too damned much again this weekend. This is nothing new, and there might be no reason to mention it except that it's integral to all the other stupid, horribly unprincipled things I did this weekend. The bottle count includes two (2) fifths of Wild Turkey, two (2) fifths of Captain Morgan's Spiced Rum, as well as an indeterminate number of beers of various and sundry nature.
- I abused pharmaceuticals this weekend. Specifically those in the group of anti-anxiety drugs, known to the technical-minded as benzodiazapanes. They include Xanax and the like. When consumed with alcohol, they tend to produce an altered state of consciousness expressed rather accurately by the equation ca = d * (dn!), where d is the number of drinks consumed and n is the number of pills consumed. Science has yet to provide us with the alternate equation when n is crushed to a fine powder and consumed intranasally. This is how I consumed n on the nights in question. This is also a severe violation of my Policy Regarding Drugs and Their Use, and something of which I am rather ashamed. The only reason you're reading this is that there is no priest avaialable at this time; since I am Catholic all the appropriate clergy are in the bars trying for all they're worth to get laid.
- I slept in the bed of a (somewhat) random girl on Friday night. There was the inevitable necking and heavy-petting, but no out-and-out-sex. Thank God. I believe there was a mutual acknowledgment of the fact that it was entirely meaningless, which is why this counts as a confession rather than a relation of a mere event. It left me feeling horribly empty, and, as though that weren't enough, the girl's roommate is someone I strongly suspect to harbor an unhealthy obsession with me. All this, of course, was a direct result of alcohol consumption.
- An old friend came into town this weekend. Well, actually, she showed up out of the blue. And invited herself to stay at my place for the weekend. Which would have been fine, except that's she's fucking crazy. Just plain hard to deal with. Unless I'm drunk. So that, at least, was convenient, since I spent the bulk of the weekend drunk. This is a wonderful example of a case of the chicken or the egg. She also supplied me with the pharmaceuticals in question. We also ended up sleeping together. As in sex. As in Jesus-Mary-and-Joseph-what-in-the-ever-loving-motherfucking-blasted-bloody-hell-was-I-thinking? Answer: I wasn't. Result: She takes emergency contraceptives and is incapacitated with nausea for an entire day and well overstays her welcome (which was worn out before she arrived). I was made horribly uncomfortable because she couldn't seem to figure out that, based on my profuse apologies and general inability to make eye contact the morning after, she should make herself scarce. I hope to defuse the ire of feminists (I consider myself one, by the way) by saying that she (unlike me) thought of this as (and I quote verbatim) "...no big deal. Things like these happen, and I'm at least glad it was you and not some complete stranger." So I ended up spending last night at a friend's house because she seemed to have every intention of sticking around yet longer in spite of the horrible suffocating pressure that slowly choked all the worth out of my life as the Oscars progressed.
- My ex-girlfriend told me last night that she doesn't respect me. She has apparently been saving this revelation for some time, but felt the need to purge herself of it because she was drunk. The trouble is, I'm not sure I disagree with her assessment of my character. I'm not going to go into her diatribe in detail, because it would involve an overly large writeup in and of itself. Suffice it to say that she called into question whether or not I am "a man of my word" (although I must point out that I have never claimed to be a man). Serious existential crises ensued. As a result of her conversation, I am seriously considering a life of sobriety. It should also be stated that I am two-and-one-half-sheets to the wind at this writing, so I am also considering Alcoholics Anonymous. Seriously.
- I got a speeding ticket on Saturday morning. 64 in a 50. I cannot decide if this is a drop in the bucket or the straw that broke the camel's back. Or might break it.
On the other hand, I'm still breathing. And warm. And my belly is full. And I live in the most prosperous nation on earth. And I am receiveing an education that exceeds that of most other people in said nation, not to mention the world.
Ah, well. All's well that ends well, I suppose. But I'm on the edge of my fucking seat, not to mention a few other edges. But I'm holding on.
Sort of.
This angst-filled rant brought to you by seven Budweisers. Still the king of cheap beers.