Yes. You are a functioning alcoholic, but if you are driven to put down six beers nightly (what a calorie bomb, BTW) you have a relationship with an addictive substance. Like, you know how you have friends you can talk to a couple times a month and it’s great to see them, but also kinda “whatever.” And them you have your really close friends that you wanna share everything with and invite them over all impromptu because why wouldn’t you? Sounds like your relationship with brewskies combined with the final scenes of Single White Female. Except your chic red bob is a sixer of Bud Heavy.
If I were you, I would probably start to figure out how this situation could benefit me. Like, maybe you could make some chic earrings and sell them on consignment an upper class boutique with a heartfelt message on the back about why you’re making these earrings. That would probably get you a little press. YouTube some interviews with kids who got into all Ivy League colleges without “despite the odds.” Have an endearing message behind your story about how you thought that making earrings, something very visible that everyone can see was intentional because so many kids like you and your siblings are suffering behind closed doors. Then you’ll probably get meetings for books and film. Of course film is flashy, but if the movie sucks, you’re not getting asked to make a second. Divide the story up into a trilogy and write and release the first book. People panty slash, you’ve written you Hunger Games moment, you get a movie deal through like, Lion’s Gate and then you start the second book before a huge teen actress’ name gets attached. I don’t know why, I’m feeling Elle Fanning, but I am. That’s how I’d brand you. Smart but kinda looking like you’ve just about taken one too many spins in the dryer. Lemons out of lemonade, much?
You’re a nerd and you’ve never had a drink in your life. But to answer your question I think “I drove drunk last night” or “I drink and drive frequently.”
You cannot be serious. Your boyfriend doesn’t want to be with you? Girl, I don’t want to be with you either. You’re a messy slop dawg when you’re drunk. You surpass Gremlin-level behavior. You get physically aggressive and you it seems like he’s been telling you for a hot minute that you need to quit the booze all together. What state do you live in? Can’t you just score some cheeb and get stoned in your mom’s backyard?
P.S. Nothing lights up out the self-absorbed baby in a person by calling up people who you know are mad at you can claiming that you’re suicidal? You’re suicidal? Guess what? WE ALL ARE. Pretty much everyone wants to kill themselves, you understand that, right? But you use those words as a weapon in an attempt to reel in some poor bastard who tried to wait out your booze-based tantrums and that’s just beyond selfish. Leave this guy alone, look up AA meetings in your area, and once you have about 90 days of sobriety, try him then. Or stay on this journey and find another drunk to date so you can comfortably behave like a child until you choke on your own vomit kill yourself by accident.
P.P.S. Grow the fuck up.
I had this landlord for a hot second and we were kinda close. When I came back from my trip to London and Amsterdam he had a lot to fill me in on regarding his personals. Apparently, while I was away, he broke his 26 years of sobriety to have a three day meth orgy in his living room. Just non-stop meth and non-stop fucking. Then finally he had to pee. He went into the bathroom and saw his cat, Miss Kitty looking right at him and she looked at him like, “What happened to you, where did my daddy go?” By the time Robert was done draining the bone, he charged back out into the living room and told the crowd to pick up the meth and go.
So I think the answer to your question is that cats just know, you know? They seem super aloof but they def can pick up on your vibes and express them via their little faces.
Just get the other half of your savings, toss some board games in the kids’ backpacks and pull one of those Walter White moves where you wait by the highway for a man in a van who you can pay to make all your problems go away. If you wind up in New Hampshire you will enjoy the solidarity. Just be specific about your magazine and news deliveries and tell Highway Man never, ever to bring you powdered milk. Yes, New Hampshire is pretty much a shit state that mainly produces assholes with legs, but they have regular milk there and you can freeze a few extra gallons in the snow in front of your cabinet. Or only drink Diet Coke. I’d also probably start smoking now if you don’t already. It’s a great zen activity.
If we were talking about Boysenberry jam, would you still not know the answer this question?
Ew. You’re like, abusive.