start at the middle

so later i shall be embarking on a strange trip...to the beginning of things.

though i wonder if i will succeed considering the light-years i have jumped in the continuum.

how does one manage it? does one suspend reality for a while, pretend that nights previous did not occur?
in the effort to see if there can be actual conversation and good clean fun how does one forget that the sight of you is a great red flag being waved furiously in front of my formerly frustrated eyes?

i know, i shall just keep in mind that

red means stop.

so when i see you, great red waving flag that you are, i shall think, stop thinking of bones being jumped and un pg fun and late night drives home and

focus

on the attempt to make (what should have been) the beginning the middle.

happy birthday ozzy you bitch!

i could've been sleeping to the sounds of the beach by now.

but no. i cancel what could've been a really interesting couple of days and go to 90 proof (the best place for us to be alcoholics that we are) and sit and drink more than i should have.

for you!

cause i will do a lot of things -except engage in a threesome or hit on a girl or dance naked or jump of a cliff or go bungee jumping, get the drift?-for you and this weird-ass long term no reason for being friendship that we have.

and thanks for screaming at me to get laid in front of people i barely know. i will return the favor. =)

for now i just want to say, though i said it before on the actual date of your birthday, happy birthday my dearest of dears. you have been, by far, the best thing in the market for keeping me sane. i wish you nothing but the best, i wish you lots and lots of hot chicks, i wish that you will have a lot more gigs to come na i can finally watch now that i am semi-liberated from the convent i was in before.

our friendship has lived past the disasters of my life-that you have many times criticized, made fun of, ridiculed- from the old guy to the mistake to the crapper and his psycho bitch and the longest dead end ever. and it will live through more.

love ya dear. really do.

cheers!

life (tequila rose) is a bitch

in this sequel to the alcohol saga, i take a moment to discuss the evil evil thing that is alcohol with harmless sounding names.

take, for instance, citron. brings to mind images of clean pg drinking, lemons and oranges and the like. then after not a few hits it punishes you by playing bongos in your brain over and over and over and over and doesn't let up until you alternately promise to never ever ever drink again or promise to drink lots more of it at the soonest possible time. don't even get started on kurant and vanilia.

mudshakes. mudslides. bailey's. kahlua. friendly names. nice names. chick drink names. you take a sip and like the clean taste with the hint of alcohol and decide, yeah, you can take a few more. and that few more leads to a bottle down, and then a few more bottles down leads to you to chocolate flavored projectile. sweet.

and the kicker of all kickers, the most deceptive of them all, the godmother of all alcoholic lying bitches:

tequila rose.

even the packaging is a big fat lying SOB. i mean, with cuervo you know what you're getting into. you drink it, you know you don't walk, talk, see, or think straight for the rest of the time you're awake. but the rose's bottle even has a freaking rose on the label.

but of of course, when you're out late at night and you want to hang out more than you want to get drunk and think drinking harmless drinks will carry the day for you, a dark bottle with a pink rose plastered on it beckons. a double leads to eight more and when all is said and done, the world spins round and round and round the moment you attempt to get up.

life's a bitch. and then you wake up. and then you want to die.

but darling, the road to dying,

fun.

alcohol based conversations

saying things you end up regretting becomes a whole other art form when you say things during phone calls made while in a drunken state.

the added creativity and spontaneity-albeit slurred and time-delayed in your brain- increases the chances of you saying things which will be as hard and as painful as removing an impacted wisdom tooth with a pair of pliers and no anesthetic.

you say things which can be offensive, hurtful, disturbing, irritating.

or funny, sweet, charming.

whatever adjective is used to describe what you say, one thing is almost -take note almost- always constant.

it's god's honest truth.

and maybe that's why you end up regretting those alcohol based conversations. you say things your particular reality is not prepared to hear, and you end up disturbing fragile peace.

but then again being drunk is such fun, and offers the most perfect excuse. and in the morning when the hangover is punishing you for your talkative spell the one comfort you can derive while you're anticipating the backlash that is almost always honesty's- and spontaneity's- unspoken companion is that

you never would've said that sober.

TICK tock

til the shit hits the fan
and what then?

to the previous superficial friendship through a common friend
what will happen?

certainly there will not be a return to that past platonic-ness now that summer
and the loneliness and the excitement and the, well, heat that it brings is here and

has claimed us for its toys.

surprisingly each added day doesn't bring about the obsession or attachment that
i usually freefall into, instead the ticking clock that is

everpresent in moments like these
stolen and hidden and exhilaratingly exhausting
nights

is ticking not really serving as a warning of the end of this normal insanity but
each second ticked off is added to the list of seconds spent in suspended reality

and prophesies more seconds to go.

the politics of bullshit

you go after the guy, the guy doesn't like you, the guy plays you and drops you, all in a month.

for blame you look to other people. to a really really nice girl who was never anything but nice to you. to my sister who did nothing ever to you, whose only fault was she got the guy you wanted. to me who's so obviously the one to blame, cause after all, i'm the bitch right? i told you to drop the guy to get him for my sister right?

of course none of it was oyur fault. cause you never fell into the vicious trap of being assuming after a conversation here and a text message there. cause you never developed feelings of hate for the ex of the guy cause you felt she was upstaging you. cause you never rolled your eyes or glared daggers or did anything with your eyes that could in anyway be remotely construed as evil. you never did anything like that and you never got caught not just by me but by a neutral party, a couple of them actually. you never did anything like that. you're a freakin ray of sunshine, all magna cum laude hot fashionista chick princess type that you are.

you couldn't possibly be capable of doing shit like that.

right? except you did.

and i, infinitely bitchy totally brutally frank person that i am, i was the best person to blame.

you couldn't touch nice girl. no way. or you'd be dead. that's why you went out of your way to talk to her and assure her and apologize to her.

you couldn't touch the guy. cause he'd just laugh at you cause you know what, HE NEVER LIKED YOU. HE WAS PLAYING WITH YOU. and you were stupid enough to play a game with an expert.

but you could touch me. you could say pitiful things about my sister and you could touch me.

so you did. you played the pity game.

the crying here and there, the asking for advice here and there, the little insinuations here and there. and when i found out and came after you, you came out the winner, cause you, princess that you are, you played the pity card. and to think i wentall nice and gentle with you.

the thing with speaking the truth is, i can do that in front of the group we belong to and as pitiful as you are, there's no way out for you.

but never mind right? that was august and this is april. and things like that should be long past right?

apparently not.

you try to suss out something with a mutual "friend" who gives you away and when you find out i know you do the best thing to do in situations like that.

you panic and cry.

scared? that i'll really give it to you this time?

why are you crying and why are you scared if you didn't do anything?

if you want war, to my face. do it in-your-face.

stop acting like such a lawyer when you're not even one yet.

as smart as you are and as bitchy as i am, you might come out the superficial winner. but the thing is, it doesn't matter. cause you are messing with someone who doesn't care about making enemies of fake friends. you are messing with someone who won't play your game.

you better make sure you line up all the blockmates you can line up. cause if you piss me off any more, no open forum in the world will rival the open fucking forum i'll give you.