Friday, June 10, 2011

Getting Off the Roller Coaster

A Vekoma Boomerang roller coaster at Wild Adve...Image via Wikipedia*sigh*

I was tired of the roller coaster... and the whirlwind surrounding it.

I mean really? Have you ever been up at the top of one of those rides in high winds? How about going through one of those monster loops? Even roller coaster enthusiasts will admit that shit's scary.

It's also a little infuriating. To think that God has sent your One and you realize that your evolved, peace-loving life has just hooked up with someone who wants to fight the world, and most people in it... up to and including you.

There's only so long you can live like Cleopatra in that situation... eventually, you have to get off denial... so I broke it off.

But then he fought for me!

Which any romantic comedy movie buff will tell you, is an incredible ego rush and ooohhhey-gooey goes the heart strings and ya fold like cheap lawn furniture.

Yeah, what they don't show you after the first make-up kiss is that the problems that lead to the breakup in the first place still exist. Not only that, since you've been 'won back', you are basically saying that you accept those problems and can deal with them because you have returned.

But I couldn't.

I'm too far gone in my walk to stop and fight with, or even say, "Hi" to everyone I come across. I no longer seek personal retaliation for the slights shown me. I simply pray for them and let the Universe handle them as I move on down the line.

It's a much happier way to live... I know... I used to box everyone. I wore my anger and discontent like an oozing second skin. And when I was released from that personal hell, I swore never to return, and by the Grace of God, I have not.

Not personally, that is.

But it's just as hard for an empath to watch someone they love behave like a Viking in front of them daily. It's kinda like watching an exercise video and feeling the burn while you're sitting on the couch... Again, sounds great in theory, but not so much in the actual.

At first I thought I had found my champion, just like Liz Gilbert... over time, it wore me out. He kept seeing attacks where I saw none, and his foul moods lead to my falling into the holes of his funks.

It's kinda hard to cuddle with someone who always has their swords drawn.

After a brief reconciliation, I broke it off yesterday. I had to. I saw where it was headed... and I'm ugly as hell when I'm miserable... but see, I wasn't all the way there to miserable just yet.

So the breakup sucks as much for me as it does for him... even though I instigated it, even though I know it's for the best, even though my angels were screaming in my ears so loudly I could not buck them anymore.

It still hurts. I still feel dizzy, and queasy, and wobble-legged like I wanna reach out and take his hand to help steady me. But I can't; I won't. Doing so would only cruelly prolong the inevitable.

At least I've learned that much. Painful lesson that it is.

*sigh* Registered & Protected
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Thursday, June 2, 2011

Getting My Ghetto Drunk On

MichelobImage by Jeff Kubina via FlickrOMG I so needed to get drunk last night.

I don't drink anymore... as a pretty general and airtight rule... but I was due.

Oh so due.

Could I afford a case of Michelob?


A 12-pack of Bud Light?

Not quite.

A six-pack of Mickey's Big Mouths, for fuck's sake?

Guess again, chief.

I know I have enough left for something alcoholic, but what?  So I go into the quickie-mart next to the laundromat determined to scope out my possibilities. It was hot as fuck and I wasn't buyin anything till the laundry was done, and I could take it straight home and get as plastered as I was capable of getting.

I happen to have a friend that's a chef, so I texted him after narrowing it down to two choices and asked him:

Magnum or Old English?

I know they're both swill, but I was down to $2.25 in laundry quarters and I wanted the most bang for my buck.

Hey, if you hear a noise in your car and you happen to be friends with a mechanic,  you pull into his or her driveway while he or she is outside... hoping the mechanic in them will take pity on the friend you are and tell ya to pop the hood.

So when ya gotta pick one ghetto 40 over another and ya don't have money to waste getting your buzz, ya tap into your vast array of lushes or chef friends and ask the question.

Old English won.

It really wasn't as bad as I expected.

As I sucked down three ice-cold coffee mugs *bowls* in very rapid succession...

I'm too white to drink it straight outta the bottle without a friend to pass it to on the porch, ya know?

Note to fellow non-drinkers in need of a little lush time; keeping the 40 in the freezer between glasses both keeps it deliciously cold, and also allows you to gauge your drunkeness as you go back for refills. If you ever go back for a refill and the beer is frozen or you can't find the kitchen, it's time to stop.

Yeap, got schnnockered in no time.

Even passed out and got a full night of much needed sleep.

Best $2.04 I ever spent. Registered & Protected
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