hello, by day I'm mild mannered Dick S. Hard, but by night I'm Superfucker. Yes I'm new, no I'm not particularly original. What little fucker had the bright idea of putting a question on the registration form that can't be properly worked by a drunk?
Anyways I'm desperately trying to drink myself to sleep with a Martini as I've got a Bio test tomorrow, and I've already been boned by my apnea-related insomnia once this week.
Somewhere in the deep dark annals of last November I made the asinine decision to go back to school. Prior to this I was an unemployed tech worker, now I'm an unemployed Botany student, feels like slightly less than a smooth progression into being a useful human being, but at least now I have an excuse to drool over Juniper Berries and linger about vineyards. Its actually all been at the prodding of my Lawyer/Girlfriend who reminded me that working directly with customers, when I don't give a flying shit if they've borked their entire corporate network by downloading tina'snawtypictures.jpg.txt.exe.elf.exe is a bad idea, and that I should just USE super-double-badass unix systems for my own obscure emacs-related masterbatory sessions and make a living out of something I actually enjoy. Since getting hammered isn't exactly a career option I settled on doing my own Bacchus defined duty and make this earth as habitable to grains and grapes as I could. Then this week the "I'm a fat bastard who needs a little grey box not to die in his sleep" monster reared its ugly head right near a big unit test in Biology.
Being the Magic man I am I worked out a CC schedule wherein I only have two days of class, but wouldn't you know it I couldn't sleep ALL BLOODY NIGHT Monday, which means I had to sleep instead of attend class Tuesday. And come Wednesday it seems I'm boned again. I'm beginning to think god doesn't love us atheists as much as I had hitherto assumed due to the haunting degree to which he seems to favor heathen nations and show absolutely no sign of his existence (or egregious examples of his existence which negate the need for faith and thus prove his non-existence QED). Which leaves me desperately trying to consume enough booze to put my ass into the slumber of the dead. I can get to school and pass a bloody test with a hangover (I used to deal with customers on a daily basis with a skull-splitter that could kill a horse) but I can't do so with the I HAVEN"T SLEPT IN 40 HOURS jitter.
This is where I should logically mention, if I should have mentioned any of this from the beginning, that I am a 6'4 400++ lb bastard who's DNA plays Drunken Celtic Bastard if you spin it backwards (Scotland, Ireland, Cornwall, Brittany, and wales) so I'm having to finish off a few bottles just to crest buzzed.
and the clock tolls 1:10 Am.
Fucking bastard time, I'd punch time in the balls, if time were an anthropomorphic being, and a male one at that. Personally if time were personified I'd imagine its a woman, never there when you need it, but there in spades when you don't. The current girlfriend is the best thing since beer, she even understands that I can't accept a call when Bohemian Rhapsody is playing, but the one before, and the one before that, and so on, were bloody headcases. Until recently I though my type was fucked up, play that as it lies. Sweet I'm ruminating about the flaws of ex girlfriends, that's somewhere about the third level of buzzed, maybe the ol dutch courage is doing its thing. The bottle of wine certainly didn't.
Speaking of dutch courage, when the fuck did the kiddo's decide it was time to strip the martini of any semblance of flavor? I though the whole point of a martini was a rich blend of herbals brought to the party by a a good dose of grain alc and wine. Its hard to say this to Lord Connery, but fuck the vodka martini with the slightest particulate membrane of vermouth. I mean if you want to drink a shot of good, cold, flavorless, ephemeral, life-altering, eastern block vodka in a martini glass be my guest (Hell I'll join you) but why call it a martini? Is calling it Vodka somehow not to your liking? Insulting four alcoholic beverages in a single swig isn't exactly kosher in my book.
Sorry had to switch to Guinness, run through the last dregs of the Vermouth and Junipero, as well as the last drops of Syrah. I'll try anything at this point, I just want to pass out and get stuff taken care of. I'm sure everyone likely to read this (and maybe the two people likely to give a shit) have been/are in the same boat, just with different stuff to take care of....
Speaking of stuff, I'm sure nobody wants to read anymore of this stuff, so I'll finish my Guinn, don my fez, and pass into sleep (if there is any sort of justice).
What contemptible scoundrel stole the cork from my lunch? ~ W. C. Fields