ryan gunn monday monkey blog

a bad day drunk

~ the monday monkey ~ Leave a comment

the truth help is in the details

Let’s dive deeper and deeper into this world I speak so highly of.  This is that lonely, sad yet, at times, slightly exciting world of the drinking problem.  This is my world.  This is not your world or your alcoholic friend’s world.  This place was designed by me and for me.  For those of you who may not understand this life, this way of stumbling through, literally and figuratively, perhaps my stories shine some light on your confusion or possibly intrigue.

Maybe there is one of you who wonder if you are like me or know someone who might be like me.  Let me warn you.  If it is you who are curious, if it is you who wonder, fear you are like me, the door is always open.  The communication line extends from you to me directly and has no people or hurdles in between.  But if you are curious because you fear you know someone like this, I’d suggest you be quite careful how you handle that.  I’m not a therapist, I’m not here to diagnose or reach out to someone you know.  If my stories resonate inside you, I am someone who can relate and talk.  But I only got to this place on my own.  No one could tell me to change or stop.  All I am saying is if you suspect someone you know has a problem, please explore your options before making a move, because you could be in a danger zone you don’t even realize or understand.

Well…..sorry if that got weird.  So how about I tell you about a really bad day.

 

the bad day starts yesterday

When it came to drinking, my bad days couldn’t be contained or qualified to one actual day.  They started long before the stroke of midnight.  In fact, they were usually still going strong when midnight hit.  The main question of whether or not to drink on a given night would sometimes be decided by a few, very important factors.  First question, what do I have to do tonight – probably nothing scheduled.  Second and more importantly, what time do I have something to do tomorrow and how critical is it.  Once I had the answers, the determination would be made.  Drink or not drink.  If we had reached this questioning period, the answer was most undoubtedly going to be – drink.  The third question would be, who can we drink with (sub-question – who will I have the best chance to stay out with super late).  Then it was time to get to it.

Grape vodka and cranberry juice, stiff as you can make it and I’ll meet you for a cigarette on the front porch (I was speaking to myself in this scenario).  When I would make drink #1, the adrenaline rush was significant, but I don’t want this to sound cliché.  It wasn’t glamorous as if it were a movie.  Tarantino would have quick cuts of ice in glass, drink mix and lit cigarette and it would make you want to have a cocktail right then and there.  In my picture, there was adrenaline filled with anxiety engulfed in self-doubt and self-loathing while still maintaining the internal vision of somehow this is all normal and maybe even….cool.  Then we were gone.

Once that first drink makes it down, once the fire is in the stomach and I am off and running, it isn’t going to stop.  One drink is all I need and then I can’t tell you what happens next.  But the idea of ‘tonight I need to take it easy’ or ‘I’ll just have a couple’ isn’t going to ever enter my mind.  Fundamentally, this is probably the top reason I no longer drink.  That list is five miles long, but this concept, in my opinion, is the root of my problem relationship with alcohol.  I can’t, I won’t, and I hate to stop drinking once I start.  The human body will, eventually, make you stop.  You will either pass out, start vomiting or die.  But ‘having desire to stop’ is not on that list for me.

Yes, you read that correctly.  ‘Dying’ is on the list of reasons a person can be stopped from physically drinking more yet ‘me wanting to’ is not.  That is not a mistake.  If you haven’t seen what this disease can do to a person, perhaps now you are starting to.  So maybe by 2a or 3a everyone has gone home.  Depending on how I answered question #2, I may just stay up alone and finish things off.  But you came here to hear a BAD day story.  So that’s when we introduce the second part of the story – next day responsibilities.

 

how being responsible and being an out of control alcoholic mix terribly

Responsibilities are the worst when you’ve been up until 3a or 4a drinking heavily.  Work, family obligations, basically anything that isn’t sleeping or drinking more really got in the way of my alcoholism.  They ruined everything.  “Who the fuck has a kid’s party at 11A on a Saturday without booze?”  I’ve come to learn that, surprisingly, a LOT of people do actually.  “I’ll go out to breakfast if they have a bloody Mary bar.  Wait, you’re not going to drink WITH me?”  Also I’ve come to learn that this is not uncommon for people to drink a little at night and then NOT want to drink the next morning.  “Fuck work for having me as an employee and having to be in at 9A.”  I don’t even have a response to this one, but I do remember feeling this way A LOT.

So I define “bad” for me as waking up when I needed to for something, usually work, and still being hammered.  Hammered meant no hangover (yet) and feeling like the world was ok and somehow I was still ok.  You won’t like this or understand it, but towards the very end, this feeling when I awoke and had to work meant only one thing.

I will tell you in this alcoholic’s mind the reasoning I’m about to share actually made sense and I felt it was somewhat rational. 

I had to drink more, at work.  This way, I avoid the hangover completely (no) and can be normal (no).  I remember the face of the liquor store worker when I would walk in and grab a bottle of red wine at 830 in the morning.  It was not a judging face; it was just a face of indifference.  Yet it also had an awareness and, I believe, he made assumptions about what was going on.  It is possible that a lot of that description was in my own mind and fueled by my own anxiety, but I still felt that way.  You may have glanced over it or you may be asking “did he say red wine?”  Yes.  I did.  Also important to note is that I never really drank much red wine in my drinking career.  If I drank wine, I liked white.  So why did red wine become my ‘go-to drink of choice when I was still drunk from the night before and had to go to work so I’d stop by the liquor store at 830A and pick up something drink for the day, while at work – drink?’  I guess the first time it felt right for that very common, relatable scenario.

 

didn’t quite think this one out…

There is really only one slightly small problem with waking up drunk, not really eating and then filling your stomach with red wine at work to ‘stay normal’.  Time.  Have you ever seen basically ANY food at a sporting event and thought “well the best idea of the day is me eating that right now”?  Most of the time, hours later, it wasn’t the best idea of the day.  Well what seems like a good idea at 830a, even 1030a when you’re really in a groove, is going to eventually have to end or get worse.  You may think you’re creative, talented or superman at this point and think everything you are doing is pure gold.  It’s not.  You may think you’re talking normally to people, clients, and dogs.  You aren’t.  You may be getting away with it, and at the time that fact keeps you going somehow, but it simply can’t last.

Remember, the human body is going to win out somehow.  I recall one specifically bad day where I really felt good about where my drunk level was, not super obvious, but enough to keep myself happy.  I played ‘normal guy’ and planned an evening happy hour with a buddy near work.  The thing is, again, you can fool your mind, you can fool other people, but your body does not respond to this type of communication.  So you have a severe buzz going on and have been drinking now for 24 straight hours, minus the 3 hour nap you’re calling “sleeping last night” and havent eaten much at all.

Your body, which is the only part of you telling the truth these days, is a river about to overflow its banks.  A tiny bit more rain and the flood is coming and it will affect everyone in its path.  So you hit the bar at 5P, like a ‘normal person’.  You start the conversation and its fine.  I got this.  So….time for the usual – vodka and cranberry and perhaps, we suggest, a shot, to toast friendship or some shit like that.

Oops, we were afraid a small drizzle would overflow that river and instead hurricane just showed up and it’s coming on strong.  The conversation quickly diverts.  Uh oh, he notices that I am not seeming right now.  My brain can’t make words normal anymore.  This is a blackout’s beginning.  The world is now a movie I am watching from afar.  Time is disappearing and I don’t understand things.  I can sense the confusion in my friend.  He must be thinking how did one drink and a shot do this so quickly?  He knows something is wrong.  I stop caring and realize that exhaustion is upon me and I can’t think of anything except my bed and sleep.  It must be 10 o’clock at night.  (It is actually closer to 5:30)  I must leave.  I recall the idea of ‘let me take you home’ being thrown out, but I quickly say no to that.

I’m not proud of any of this and this part is hard to even type so many years later.

But I drove home.  I don’t know how I did it but I did.  This is something I thank God for all the time, that I never injured anyone doing something so reckless, selfish and beyond dangerous.  I recall even more confusion from my wife when I got home so early and obviously severely drunk.  I knew she must have been doing the math in her head.  “How could he have been out for such a short time and come home wasted?”  I passed it off.  I knew the pain was coming; physical, emotional and psychological.  That had to all wait while I passed out.

 

the bad day after the bad day

So that was the Bad Day.  However, as you can imagine, the next day was no peach.  When that alarm clock goes off, the true terror begins.  I know there are so many out there who are the ‘drink everyday’ type alcoholic.  Well, I just couldn’t be that.  Not because I lacked desire, but my body took these things very, very hard.  I wanted to die.  I knew I had to be at work again and I actually usually went on these days.  But they were very, very bad.  The nausea was so bad that every moment I feared I’d throw up but it was also so terrible that I couldn’t even force food into my stomach.  My anxiety and pain made me feel afraid that my heart would explode in my chest.  I would spend time sending texts or emails saying how sorry I was and trying to make excuses.

These were the days where the very small, subtle voice in the back of my head would try to suggest to me that this was not normal and that maybe I had a problem.  These are the days I would find that young voice that would say ‘I am never drinking again’.  My body, my mind and my soul had been run over by a steam roller and there was very little left.  My being felt 200 years old.  All I wanted was to get home and get in my bed again.  I would often think ‘if almost any other person I know felt this way ONE time due to drinking, they’d never touch that stuff again’.  I actually still think that’s true.

Well, here is how I leave you on this post.  After all of that, after all of those feelings and horrible ups and downs, eventually I’d get to the end of the day and back in bed.  This would be the end of a three day roller coaster ride.  3 days!  And the worst part about it was when I awoke the next day, it was Day 1 again.  Question number 1 – what do I have to do tonight?  Looks like its Friday…..so I’ll plan on seeing you again Sunday….if I make it through this one.

clifford’s birthday party, the review of ignorance

~ the monday monkey ~ Leave a comment

clifford’s friends are assholes

CliffordsBday-CoverRead the story.  I’ve read it 217 times to my son.  I get angrier every time.  This is what I take from this story and then I’ll tell you how I arrive at this point.  Don’t be a prick and don’t be friends with ignorant assholes. 

I’ve read a ton of children’s books over the last few years, but this one plays on my deepest fears and anxieties more than any other.  But that fucking dog and, more importantly, his owner Emily Elizabeth have some seriously rude “friends”.

So here is how the story plays out.  This terrifying, deformed, freakishly massive red dog is having a birthday party.  I mean this fucking thing is planned.  Invitations sent out, decorations up, ice cream and cookies ready to go, the asinine dog has a ridiculous party hat on and his owner Emily has her head in the clouds.

So then the time comes for the party to start and who shows up?  No one.  Not a soul.  Zero people show up and Emily is the calmest 8 year old in the world who literally didn’t have one person show up to the damn birthday party, even for a dog.  She just “wonders” where everyone is.  She’s a moron too by the way, but we’ll get to that later.

So, they handle it in an incredibly humbling and embarrassing way.  But also a way only someone with serious balls would deal with it.  So they go to the park looking for these “friends” to find out why they aren’t at the party.  They head to the playground and everyone is there.  Together.  NOT at the party.  I imagine this scene in reality and it’s the most awkward, gut wrenchingly sad thing I can even imagine.  These pricks are playing baseball and when confronted by Emily and the gigantic red monster behind her the best thing they come up with is that ‘they didn’t have good enough presents, not good enough for such a special friend’.  You have got to be fucking kidding me.  I’ve heard bad excuses before, but that is the worst one of all time.  And please don’t throw that crap back on Emily with the “special friend” bologna.  You are mean kids being mean and Emily and the nuclear fallout K9 could do a lot better than you when it comes to friends.  But…. she tells them to stop being silly and he’d like whatever they got for him.  THEY DIDN’T ACTUALLY GET HIM ANYTHING, EMILY!

This scene gets sadder and sadder and you can’t stop the train wreck if you tried.  At this point I’m begging the dog to mass murder all these jerks to stop this nonsense.  So now, these shit for brains are not only completely caught in a lie, they now need to somehow produce these inferior, made-up gifts and actually attend the party they blew off in the first place.  So they go home (probably rush home) to find anything in their houses they can pawn off as a gift for a dog the size of a house.  These “friends” are pathetic and lower than the dirt they were playing baseball on at the park…

Except…..maybe, just maybe, I am wrong here.  Maybe it is possible there is something behind this animosity towards Emily and her pet that fuels nightmares….

 

 clifford and emily are assholes?

So the so called friends show up at what must be hours after the original start time of the party.  The ice cream is ruined for sure, the cookies stale.  I can’t imagine what this poor mother is thinking.  She must  work 3 jobs already to pay for enough food to feed this beast that she has allowed her daughter to own.  Now, no one shows up to this party?  She must be halfway into a bottle of wine at this point.

 

the gifts

Scott’s gift is a large ball.  Not too bad.  Everyone plays with it until Clifford pulls out the fucking stopper and ends the game immediately.  Ok, not a big deal, maybe he didn’t know that would happen, he;s just a dog.

The next kid brings a piñata.  Not an ideal present for a 10 ton dog, but they decide to let him take some swings.  It goes poorly.  He knocks down trees, a shed, the fence and so on.  Horrific fucking scene.  Luckily no one was hurt or killed, but the 8 year olds are probably mortified and scarred for the rest of their life seeing such a massive force destroy the yard around them.  Yet time for the next gift!

Jenny didn’t even try.  She gave Clifford one of her yellow sweaters.  An 8 year old girl gave a dog as tall as a high school football stadium one of her own sweaters.  Yet the infinite optimist Emily Elizabeth, says ‘it’s perfect for his nose’!  Gigantic backfire, Jenny, ya dumb idiot.  I’m sure she hoped this would be the final straw to end the relationship.  Not today.

Why the next kid would give Clifford a robot dog is beyond me.  Perhaps she figured a robot dog can’t judge or be terrified by a 3 story tall red dog or maybe she’s just a fucking idiot.  Clifford broke it immediately.  Shocking.  Assuming the narrator IS Emily Elizabeth, the line after he breaks the robot is ‘they don’t make toys the way they used to’.  So, to follow this logic, “they” used to make toys that were so indestructible that you could literally drop a house on them and they would not break.  No they didn’t.  They did NOT used to make toys like that.

Then Cynthia and her dog Basker arrive with an actual gift.  They bring a gift certificate to the groomer to get a free shampoo and haircut.  (Side Note: The Bow Wow Beauty Parlor will be adding a size provision to their future documents after the wash and cut of an entire yacht.)  But wait, the picture becomes a little clearer when we see Emily hand this gift off to Scott.  Emily likes Clifford the way he is.  This girl actually re-gifts the gift certificate right in front of Cynthia ala behind the back style that would be virtually impossible for Cynthia to not see.  That takes some serious balls.  Maybe now I am starting to see why some people didn’t feel compelled to make this party a priority.

 

the finale

So this whole disaster gets wrapped up when the cake shows up on a truck.  Clifford was surprised, but became even more surprised when his family pops out of the cake.  SO how fucking long were these poor dogs cooped up in this fake cake while all this non sense was going on?  How did they survive?  And how is Clifford smart enough to know his family and feel genuine happiness to see them yet not feel hurt and confused when they aren’t there for the hours of time prior to this moment?  That’s not fair to him.  The poor bastard has already had a rough go of it anyway being that he is a fucking GIGANTIC RED DOG!

I’ll tell you what should have happened.  Emily’s mom, when she immediately sensed no one was showing up to this thing, should have gotten that fucking cake out with Clifford’s family inside and made the best of things.  This mother was nonexistent after making the cookies and ice cream and that’s not right.  The whole party was mishandled from the get-go and it was a nightmare waiting to happen.

So what I am trying to say is that Clifford and Emily’s ‘friends’ are ignorant assholes, granted, and you shouldn’t surround yourself with that type of negativity, even if life has dealt you a bad hand, you still deserve better.  That being said Emily and her disfigured mutant could try a little harder to be nice to people, considering they know what it’s like to be shit on by crappy people.  Surround yourself with positivity and be positive yourself.  Don’t be a prick to people.  Life is just too short.  At least this is what I got out of the story……

 

if i had my life

Quote ~ ~ the monday monkey ~ Leave a comment

normal is………20071204_normalpeopleBig

So.  I am 36 years old.  First of all, how the hell did that happen and second, whatever age you are, don’t tell me that 36 is young, I’m not bitching about the number, that’s not the point.  I am here and it is just another reminder that time is short.  So shut up and listen to me for a second (or don’t), but the ideal me has something to say right now.

Create something.  Resonate with someone.  Mean something to someone.  Have friends, have hobbies, have relationships.  Get happy, get angry, throw a chair once and a while.  Don’t sit back and be quiet, not anymore.  Need someone, need some thing or things, need feelings.  Forget embarrassed, forget uncomfortable unless that is who you are and need to be, let loose or don’t, but be who you are and try to feel pride in it.  Be weird, it’s ok.  Be really weird, a lot, that’s ok too.  Who’s the most normal person you know?  Ok, now see it from the other side.  Do you want anyone that knows you to answer that question with your name as the answer?  Believe that it is ok to be someone completely different from anyone else.  No one you know is the person they play in real life.

 

the you that you aren’t

If you find someone who is happy all the time, they aren’t, trust me.  I’ve had that title once or twice and while flattering, I guess, it’s laughable, but mostly because, and we’ve covered this before, I’m insane.  One thing I know for sure is that no one you know is the person they play online either.  I’m guilty too.  I share the best me of the day or week and play it off like that’s life…..like that’s my life……  We keep messing with people’s emotions and feelings when we do that and it IS serious.  Why can’t I be like them, why can’t I be happy all the time, why can’t I only go to great places everyday with all the best people and have the best time ever and always be doing, seeing, acting, feeling…..the best?  What have I done wrong?

But wait, maybe I AM the best?  I look at my accounts, my photos and I think maybe I am the best too.  Maybe even better than the best of all the bests?  Am I winning the competition here to see who can make up the best life?  It’s getting to the point where I have had more interaction with my friends through texting over the last few years than I did in person the ten years before that.

When was the last time you sent a sad photo?  Do you tell the world about the bad days?  You do still have bad days, right?  I have bad days and that’s ok.  Ah, but what would you become if you were honest?  You’d be branded the sad friend.  That all too important number would begin to drop, the ignore buttons, the unfollow clicks would come sooner and more often until there would be nothing left but your honesty and solitary social media account.  Then God help you because a social media account with no friends or followers is the saddest thing society can think of.  So don’t be honest.  Post that family portrait at the beach, wait two weeks until your next happy moment and post that too because I just can’t get enough of how perfect the world is when I get online and look at the people I know…

there is a reason to care

Perhaps every generation says this for whatever the reason is during that time period.  But at age 36 I honestly feel like we were the last people to grow up without full immersion into this other dimension where we can so easily be almost anything we want to be on paper, as long as we don’t have to prove it.  The thing is, this affects human being’s lives.  It affects their mental condition, it affects their ability to be happy, to feel satisfied.  If you are having a good day, you probably tend to disregard small annoyances.  On a really good day, you may even laugh at them.  “Oh look at Sally and Walter, they sure do love to go to the (input a location that, for you, can instantly invoke rage) I guess your kids have to be EXTRA smart or friends have to be EXTRA rich to go there and do that thing….Ha ha ha….go jump off a bridge with your hoosier or yuppie friends or whatever….ha ha.”

But what about the bad days?  What about the days when “go jump off a bridge” is where you are when your day starts?  When you wake up feeling down and even your one morning joy of coffee doesn’t work out right.  “Well, I can’t start over now!  I’m already at a caffeine level of 6 even though that cup of joe tasted like the inside of a dog’s stomach.  If I have more, even if it tastes good, I’ll probably feel too fast in my head and then feel sick.”  Now it’s 8:04 in the morning and you’re just like all the others waiting for Friday, except Friday right now, for you, could be anything as long as it isn’t this.  So, we already stated, this is a bad day jump started by your own swirling tornado of a mind and jolted into the orange, heightened alert status by Frank, the ‘I try so soft to be good at my job’ and make dog stomach coffee.  So let’s get to work, but probably not.  Where do we turn for comfort?  Where do look for guidance on how to wear a shirt or make a shirt or take a shirt and make it into a better shirt?  Where do we go for advice on making things out of other things and double checking that it’s all gluten free when we just don’t really know what that means?  And finally, for good measure because I could write essays on each of these, where do we go to feel comfort by looking at things we’ll never have, never be able to do, didn’t invent, design or create and see things we usually hate?  Well, you know.  So the bad day hits this moment head on and then we are greeted by Mr. Perfect and perfect doing perfect things and being perfect.  I need not go on as it doesn’t get any better……..

So, in conclusion, I really hope you got something out of my WordPress Blog that I just posted to Facebook and Twitter and REALLY hope you’ll give me a Like or even better, Share it with someone.

the alcoholic monologue

Aside ~ ~ the monday monkey ~ Leave a comment

there’s never a good time to realize that you’re f*cked upSay-when

There’s REALLY never a good time to tell people you love that you’re f*cked up.  But there does come a point when it becomes easier to do it.  Then, if you’re lucky, it becomes such a part of you that you tell anyone at any time, and I truly mean you are lucky if you make it to this point, a lot of people never do.

“Oh you have an uncle who is an alcoholic?  That’s really super interesting.  Has that been fun for you?  What’s he like?  Maybe I know him from our club of insane people.  Thanks for trying to relate to me!”

Ok, so we actually DO have a club, but some people don’t quite get that joke.  I’m not sure they should either.  But you don’t have to know me.  You don’t have to relate to me and you don’t have to pretend to understand what it is like.  There might be an outward appearance of slapstick humor and quick one liners about the whole thing, but that’s just because the truth of the situation is sad and painful and hurts people.  It’s not fair in this instance to speak anymore in the plural form because while there is plenty of humor here, I don’t want to speak for anyone else.  I was able to stop drinking years ago, but not everyone is so lucky.

 

“i should quit drinking too, I drink too much”

If you tell people you are an alcoholic, get ready for this one.  Well how do you like to get drunk?  More importantly, how do you like to drink?  “It’s drinking time, boys!”  “It’s 5 o’clock somewhere” (is there a dumber f*cking phrase in the English language?)  You want to research and answer the drinking questions on yourself?  Go right ahead.  But you telling me you need to quit or cut back or whatever it is, that’s like me walking up to Ted Bundy and saying, “I sure can hurt people sometimes too, perhaps I should cut back.”  Maybe you smile or laugh at that analogy.  Well, I’m not.  (Ok I am AND I giggled when I realized the pun in there about cut back too.  When you think about that it also clearly speaks to my insanity in giggling at a pun inside an analogy comparing my own hurtful ways to one of the worst mass murderers in history.)  Anyway, that sh*t is true though.  You “drink too much” is a problem?  Well then figure it out, pal, but I have my own questions for you.  Lets call this next section:

 

am I am alcoholic questionnaire – using real life examples – answer true or false

  1. When I drink, I drink to excess on purpose and force people to stay up until 7a and listen to the score of the Shawshank Redemption while I cry and talk about life.
  2. My drinking causes issues at work, usually because I have a hard time by 11A talking normally to clients because I have polished off the bottle of red wine I bought at 8A on the way to work.
  3. I do stupid things when I drink, specifically during blackouts, such as paying a DJ $20 to sing your favorite song before the bar closes, even though it is not a karaoke bar or DJ, then falling backwards off the table you were dancing on and hitting your head.

that sh*t is funny……

The stories I tell are ones of good times and crazy moments.  I’m f*cked up, but who wants to hear about someone pissing in their own bed at the age of 30?  Well that DID happen, but it’s funnier when you tell the story about pissing the bed at age 22, the “bed” is a bunk bed, you’re on the top bunk and your buddy is on the bottom bunk.  Then the despicable become laughable, yet, the reality of the situation is that they are both actually just sad.  At a birthday party the joke gets more outrageous as each gift is opened and it is another bottle of vodka.  Everyone enjoys the gag and it is actually rather comical that at my birthday party I got 9 bottles of vodka.  The comedy seems to vanish quicker than the week and a half it took me to finish them all, except 1, which made it up to the last day I used it.

Let me be clear that I am not trying to create some sort of environment here that requires sympathy or pity.  I don’t want that at all.  I’ve seen plenty of “those looks”.  I’m just saying there is the surface and there is something underneath.

 

but when you put it that way, it’s not that funny

I may need to get real here.  I don’t even know if anyone will read this, but maybe someone does.  Even more so, maybe someone who actually questions his or her drinking reads it and I have to at least speak to that person.  I am that person.  I will always be that person.  I am different and I do things differently than other people.  But one day things did change for me.  This is no happy story, my friend.  I didn’t slam a drink down on the bar and say “I have had enough.”  My first moment came with a blood soaked shirt, a psychiatrist and a lot of tears on the faces of the people I love the most.  And that shit ain’t f*cking funny at all.

So if you want to relate, then let’s relate.  Do you know a plumber?  (If not, just play along.)  I don’t know any plumbers personally, but if I did and I happen to be speaking to another plumber, I’d probably say “Oh, my so and so is a plumber.”  Not knowing any plumbers personally I can’t say for certain, but if I did and had this conversation and made this comment I would imagine that plumber would have no more to say to me after the comment in particular than he did before I made the comment.  This is such a funny human trait that I am guilty of myself.  But when we speaking to another human being we do not know we look for relatable material to pass the time while we converse.  For some reason, we naturally relate by telling each other we know someone who does what they do or knows what they know or whatever.  Yet most of the time knowing that person gives us absolutely no more material to discuss with this stranger.  To be clear, I believe support and compassion are two of the greatest things on earth.  I just find us humans funny sometimes how we try to find the ways to do that.  So let me start the conversation by stating that I am an alcoholic, I’m a drug addict.

 

i have a great life idea!

“It sure is a pretty day outside today,” says no drug addict who isn’t high.  You see, I am a drug addict.  I like to use drugs to get me high.  I use the term drug referring to alcohol as well as other substances.  One I get those substances in my body I can focus on you.  THEN I can tell you it is a nice day out.  If I am high, I can sit here and tell you the f*cking opera is worth the money.  I don’t care about it.

I wouldn’t say I decided at a very young age to grow up and f*ck everything up with alcohol and drugs.  I would not say that.  My son had to fill out a sheet for pre-school about what I want to be when I grow up.  He picked a Ninja Turtle.  I didn’t read all of the class’s entries, but I didn’t see “town drunk”, “pothead” or “deadbeat drug addict” for anyone’s answer.  I guess I should have since I could have possibly at least been the one kid in class to fulfill his self-appointed destiny.  Main problem is, I wouldn’t have cared anyway.  This brings me to my last point……

 

you still haven’t told us what it’s like

There is a certain kind of pain reserved in life when it comes to aspects of love.  Have you ever loved someone so much before but you couldn’t tell them?  Perhaps they were in love with someone else, perhaps YOU were also in love with someone else at the same time, if you believe that to be possible.  For the point of this section, I’ll ask you to try and follow even if you have not.  When you love someone that much but cannot tell them, ever, it hurts real badly.  You want to be around them SO much and SO often, but you can’t and you need to be careful because if you let on too strongly they may become afraid and retreat.  You’re in a terrible, friend-zone-ish place that you will struggle with every single day and not be able to tell one person about it, because you will be shunned, you will be made to feel like your feelings are wrong or selfish.  But you know you love this person.  There is something about them that makes you smile at the very thought of their being.  You fantasize about a different dimension where you are able to be happy together.  You know that there are a handful of factors that may swoop in and take this person from you at any point in time.  This person is everything you ever thought happiness could be and you can’t understand why fate would play the cruelest joke in the world on you and put them in your life in a capacity where you can never be with them yet you must be around them constantly.  You also thank fate for giving you at least this.  Your insanity grows more and more each day as you struggle with whether or not to come clean……

 

this post is about a girl?  it’s about a crush?

No.  Well, if you want me to make the worst, most awful joke ever, it’s sort of about Mary Jane or Cindy Smirnoff I guess.  But my point was that’s what it’s like to be a drug addict.  At least for me.  It was a constant struggle of getting enough but not too much so people could tell.  You wish you could live without fear of judgement if people knew.  You can’t understand why you were given this terrible affliction, but you can’t imagine living without it and you know you are one discovery away from it being possibly taken away forever.  You dream and desire to be high when you’re not and when you are high, it’s rarely enough and may God be with you if the drugs stop working because there is no worse place on this planet than that.

 

i think I’m sad now…..

You’re not sad.  Don’t be sad.  Remember the jokes, remember the funny.  Embrace your faults, embrace yourself for who you are.  I was a craptastic, selfish, rude, a**hole addicted to alcohol and drugs and look at me now, I cut out the alcohol and drugs!  Life IS sad.  But not always, I hope.  But the sad is what can also bring us to happy sometimes.  You don’t know me because you’re a drug addict like me, but you can still get to know me.  Just remember that when we meet, and I tell you I am an alcoholic, don’t tell me about your cousin, feel free to ask me what it’s like being an alcoholic.  Then maybe we can actually get to know each other and have a real conversation.

the lead off monday monkey

~ the monday monkey ~ Leave a comment

I don’t give a sh*t if it’s Friday. I’m not gonna walk around smiling like a damn fool because apparently my life is so awful 5 days out of the week that nearing the completion of this walk across hot coals while sucking on tacks makes me so happy that I turn into everyone’s best pal. My entire existence is not based directly on the idea that I can only truly enjoy 28% of my life, yet spend 72% miserable trying to get to that one f-ing day….Friday.

You know what I say to the people who think like that? Good luck. You know who I am? I’m the guy who pisses you off sometimes. I’m the guy who smiles at you on MONDAY morning at 7A and that makes you mad. ‘What’s his problem you mumble under your breath?” Yet when you smile at me on Friday at 4PM and I look at you like you’ve suddenly turned into Richard F***ing Simmons when you’ve been a zombie all week I come across as an asshole. Well look at you, Clayton, you sure do have it all figured out. Today is the big day. No work tomorrow, no work Sunday. All your dreams will be coming true this time. Clay, my friend, here’s your big moment to shine. Break that smile out and tell everyone your big plans. “Oh, Linda, I can’t wait to hear the family’s plans for Saturday and Sunday, sounds just terrific!” Give me a break. So you go around and tell everyone to “Have a great weekend”. I have other plans. I’d rather say, “How about you go to the zoo and get your teeth knocked out by a monkey.” Guess what, at least you’d have a great story to tell me on Monday and an even harder time telling it, considering you got your damn teeth kicked in by a monkey.

Now chances are, although I don’t know a ton about monkey fighting (especially when a human is involved), but the monkey probably uses his hands or monkey fists to knock the teeth out and not the feet, but who am I to sit here and explain to someone else how their teeth got knocked out, it’s their ‘crazy weekend’ story. Instead, without fail, I am left every Monday morning hoping to see just one damn co-worker of mine walking around with a big mouth full of gauze and monkey fist marks on their cheek. I would walk right up to them, knowing exactly what happened and I would look at them with the anger and hatred for rabid monkeys that I now apparently have and I would just nod and say, “F*cking monkeys.” Then that man or woman, I have no sexist beliefs on the probability that a monkey would be more or less likely to kick a man or woman’s teeth in over the others. SO, then that person would gauze-mumble to me “I hate Mondays.”

Now, of course, I would assume he or she said “I hate monkeys”, which would be the natural inclination here. But it also proves my point that a man or woman that has so recently lost all of their natural ability to eat or chew food anymore has not only come back to work the next day but also has the incredible sense of humor and perspective to say they hate Mondays, well that person would logically become my new best friend, but only after the subsequent surgeries and denture fitting, I’m not wasting my time trying to talk to a toothless asshole who can’t take a beating from a monkey, BUT, I respect him (or her) for it and that’s the point. I’ll keep hoping for my Monday morning monkey story, but my guess is that it aint coming anytime soon.