Day 54: “Depressed Drunk”

I saw my writer friend today at the Irish bar. He is working on a book about church and state. He is brilliant, and is happily married. He attended Notre Dame and studied business and law. He has earned so many degrees that I lost track after the second one. He comes in a lot to work on his book at the Irish bar, and I usually force him to sit in my section each time so that I can linger over the table while he’s eating, and bombard him with questions about his book. His editor had just sent him a list of revisions that needed to be made on his chapter about sex.

SEX!  What does church and state have to do with sex?” I exclaimed.

He smiled and said “Well, maybe you can help me with that!” 

I told him when we first met about my blog, and he actually likes it! I got off work early and didn’t want to open my lap top and deal with the fact that my abrupt lapse of writing was getting to me and piling up like dirty laundry. I had a glass of wine outside with one of the other American’s who aren’t cool enough to hang with the Irish. We were bitchin’ about life and who we did and didn’t like at the bar. After guzzling my second glass of wine and my first shot of the night, I opened up to Jay about how I was abstinent. He looked at me and slurred,“If you weren’t abstinent I would buy you another shot.” I didn’t know how to tell him that he didn’t have a chance either way so I shrugged my shoulders and laughed. Since I work with him, I had to put my inner hulk to rest for the evening by showing off in the only way that makes me feel superior to a guy like that…I picked up the tab for the table after buying him another round and threw his money at him.

I was ready to leave and shit faced. The bartender asked if I needed him to call me a cab, but I insisted in my slurred speech that I was fine. I left the bar and stumbled to my car determined to get home safely. As soon as I got in the car I knew it was a bad idea to drive, but I did it anyway. I can be really stubborn when I’m drunk. I’m like a mule, but worse when I start drinking. On my way home, I even stopped at my local bar to get a night cap. I think I may have drinking problem?! 

I was swerving and driving like a maniac, puffing on my cancer sticks and blasting Pearl Jam. I could have easily wrapped my car around a tree, or killed someone. When I got home, I ran to the bathroom and spent the remainder of the evening puking up blonde headed sluts and potato skins. I’m an idiot an should have known better than to get into a car and drive under the influence of alcohol. My guardian angel must have been working overtime because I’m shocked I made it home in one piece.

Here’s to 312 days, Veronica Graham, Don’t drink and drive-

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