new raspberry; �HATES technological I am sick to death of erectile dysfunction, pass the tampons please |
AA Speaker 5 I got a job I got a job with a little film company running their computers. It was a job where I was pretty much a loner. It paid a lot of money and didn�t interfere with my drinking. After I got sober, the people that I worked with that were already in program had a lot to say about my behavior. I had no idea that my weekend binges affected my work week. Maybe I was so resentful of the sober week days that I was pretty much one major bitch to have to deal with, but I did not see that at the time. As my bingeing worsened, even my drinking buddies drifted away from me. I turned into an angry drunk. I once saw a T-shirt that said: Instant Asshole, just add alcohol. That described me very well. I would go into screaming rages if anyone so much as looked at me wrong, kinda like my dad. Somehow I always managed to drive my drunken self home from the bars---the ones I hadn�t been 86�ed from yet---and I did it without killing myself or someone else. Why God permitted me to survive this time, I still do not know. I�m sure there were blackouts, but I don�t remember them. I guess that�s why they call them blackouts. I ruined my best friend�s wedding by getting drunk and obnoxious. She had the poor taste to pick me as her matron of honor. The evening culminated in me raging at my roommate after we got home from the wedding. I refused to leave my car in the city and wanted her to lead the way home in her car so I could have something to focus on for the drive home. Apparently she was driving so slow that I couldn�t focus on her car without my head spinning so I hit the gas and flew through the pass. She later said that I ran my Camaro so fast that night that she couldn�t keep up with me, and she was sober. Back home I screamed at her and slapped her in the face for driving so slow and that was the last straw for her. And I could not blame her. About this time I won a law suit that allowed me to pay off all my bills and move to a place of my own. Finally, no one to interfere with my affair with the bottle. And now that there is no one left to answer to, what happens? I get my moment of clarity. Why? Don�t know. Was it the fact that there was finally no one left to clean up my wreckage? Because you know it was always there waiting for me when I sobered up. The puke that didn�t quite reach the toilet, the 30 minute search for car keys in the morning. It was all mine to revel in. Was it mom praying for me in her little sanctimonious AA way? Was it the little angel on my shoulder that I argued with the night I went out to get that last bottle of vodka? I tell you now, I stood there in the supermarket with about 20 different brands of vodka to choose from and I couldn�t make up my mind right away like I usually could. Did I want the citrus? Did I want the raspberry? Did it matter, the little voice said. Well yes, I said. If you crack that seal you will die, the little voice said. I said, Who cares? I care, snapped the little voice. After 30 minutes of indecision, I went home, without the bottle. I knew I needed help, I knew I couldn�t do it alone. This was in June of 1996. Part 5 of 6
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secrets pondering: Why the right wingers who want to keep the government out of their business insist on putting the government in my bedroom laughing about: It gets lost in translation crying about: bad habits: smoking totally ballistic about: amen sister: someone else�s take on childlessness regular reads: cactustree must see tv: |