The Requisite Quarterly Drunken Posting (Hicc)

So, I’m drunk. It’s been forever and a day since I’ve drank and blogged, so you’re owed, dear reader, you’re owed.
Of course, there’s about 60% chance that this posting will suck, but I’ve given you the “I’m drunk” caveat and I’m good if you are. πŸ™‚ Mm, wine!
It’s a cheap and dirty Californian Burgundy. I know, “They have Burgundies in California? It’s a region, you know… Burgundy? Like, in France? Hence the name? Like, French?”
I know, I know. I know. Hey, it’s $6.99. It’s probably one of those proverbial 99-cent bottles of wine from the great Sunshine State. Whatever. It’s all right. I find, sometimes, that life’s just so much simpler if you opt to lower your standards a notch or two, and open your mind. There’s only something wrong if you choose to notice it, right?
So, I says: Fabulous. Tasty, that. I had one of the lofty government liquor store employees recommend me something tasty and light that would work with sauteed salmon. I say it works with getting drunk, that’s what I say.
I decided a second ago that I needed candles and some music, so I’ve opted for Elton John Live in Australia, and lit four candles. And I had a moment… just then. On my quest, I flicked on the light and caught my gaze in a mirror. And this toned, getting tanned face was looking back at me. My face has been lost in an overgrown bad haircut for more than a month… and I’ve lost about 15 pounds in that time. Tonight, wow. It shows. I hadn’t seen that yet, and I cycled 30km today. And to catch myself off-guard, you know?
Maybe you don’t. When you’re in a process of change like I think I’ve been in, just hitting it hard, and working to lose the weight — not relying on a diet plan or something like that to get you through, but sweating hard for six, eight, ten hours a week on top of full-time work, doing the whole “I cook and clean for myself” thing, and maintaining a life, a blog, all that, you get absorbed in life, you know? Months go by when you’re conscious you’re changing a bit, but all it takes is something completely new to enter the picture and you suddenly realize how much change there’s really been from then to now. A haircut shows new face angles you’ve not noticed, or a new outfit betrays new hot curves. Doesn’t take much. But it can blow a mind, baby.
So I’ve had my moment. Sure, I’m drunk, but I hope I remember it. Heh. Or else I get a two-fer and I have the same epiphany when I wake up and get sober. “Holy shit! I’ve lost weight!” Awesome. A two-fer! On a Saturday morning on a four-day long weekend? Fuckin’ a, I’ll take a two-fer. πŸ™‚
Ahh, well. Here’s a promise I make you, readers. I’m stewing on a few heavy, heavy postings. To come in the coming weeks are possibly an entire series devoted to Teen Sex in America Today… or at least my take on it. That will segue into a story or two on the state of AIDS in the world today. I may tackle a sociological story on the demise of the tradition of abdication of femininity of Albanian women who wish to become the clan leaders for their family, a really interesting change in society that’s brought entirely about by media and the new chicks in the spotlight worldwide, an interesting story I’d like to weigh in on.
And, fuck, I can’t forget the long-awaited rise of gay marriage in California, now, can I? More importantly, but less covered, is New York’s decision to start legalizing the recognition of gay marriages performed in states where it is legal. Performing one isn’t legal yet in NY, I don’t think, but they’re opting to legally recognize ones performed elsewhere, so that’s fucking huge, man.
It’s been a really important month in sex and politics, but I’ve sort of needed to take some mental time off.
Tonight, drunk though I be, I feel really, really keen to start tackling some of the harder stuff.
The sex with teenagers thing in America, man, that’s just so depressing, and so very, very scary, and why the mainstream media isn’t covering it more when there’s four months before an election just baffles the fuck out of me. And I’ve been holding back, because when I let go on it, it’s going to be in several back-to-back postings. It’s important. When one in four girls who are 14-16 has an STD under an administration that has pushed abstinence-only education, something NEEDS to be said. 25% of mid-teens are carrying an STD, and it’s not a major issue?
HELLO? Scientists in Antarctica are given condoms on the government dime when sex with coworkers is considered sexual harassment, but kids aren’t taught about condoms in school? Like, what the fuck? Sure, the Wii is fun, but I’d much rather be playing with the cutie from Biology, you know what I’m saying? Can’t get drugs, can’t buy booze, but the bodies are there in the offing? “Duh.”
So, all right, I’ll be tackling that very, very soon. Fuck it, this weekend, even. It’s time, man.
I digress: Before my decision to drink a bottle of red wine (I have a glass in front of me still), I had cycled around much of the fabulous city of Vancouver this evening. About 30k. Gorgeous. It’s the night before a heatwave. In fact, it’s nigh on midnight and all my windows and doors have been open since eight, and it’s hotter now than when I came home. Still, I love me a heatwave and have a notion to do a long, long ride when the bitter hot-hot-hot kicks in tomorrow afternoon, after I scoot around town for the fine fixings for a great weekend from an assortment of farmers’ markets. I can’t afford big things, but I can afford locally-grown organic lettuce and farm-fresh potatoes, and isn’t that something fantastic right there?
I get to babysit a friend’s cat tomorrow night, which is really to say I get to babysit his Wii. My centre of balance is apparently dead centre, says Wii. I rock. Methinks I’m getting drunk again. I mean, if I’m dead centre anyhow, right? I’ll just make sure I move that glass coffee table to a galaxy far, far away…
Fuck, now I want to watch Star Wars and visit galaxies far, far away. Sigh. Great cheap red. I think it’s a hallucinogenic. God knows we loves our hallucinogenics.
My drunk ass needs to be elsewhere. But I feel fantastic! It’s going to be a fun few days. Ahh, cheap red wine, how doth my cheap ass love thee. Expensive red wine I also love, and can appreciate, but I just know how to slum when it’s necessary.
And, believe me… everyone needs to slum it some of the time. It makes the rest of the time feel spectacular. Still, for $6… I bet I feel richer than you right now. It’s good to be me. You have yourselves a fabulous weekend. I might be getting lost in the world a little. Shouldn’t we all?

3 thoughts on “The Requisite Quarterly Drunken Posting (Hicc)

  1. Mariella

    I’m in a New York ‘burb and I graduated in ‘o5.

    I think the Baby Count for my class is up to 20 or 21 kids born to (primarily) burn-out parents, about 17 kids had contracted HIV by my senior year, and girls walk around thinking that putting jelly of the Welches grape variety in their cooch will kill sperm.

    Turns out it just makes your cervix purple and leaves your doctor confused.

    Our school HAS a sex ed. program, too, but that Puritan attitude towards sex means it stays out of the spotlight–it’s happening, but no one’s talking about it.

    I really like your blog and I’ve been lurking for a while, so I’m glad I actually have something to offer today.


    P.S. Can you give me drunk-writing lessons? That was the most lucid, coherant post I’ve read on any blog all week, and let’s just say when I’ve tried this in the past, all I get is keyboard indentations in my face and a trailing “Tequilaaaaaaaasdf” the next morning. So jealous.

  2. Scribe Called Steff

    Brian– His brogue is too thick for me with the Youtube lack of def! What little I got was good.

    Mariella– Dunno about drunk-writing lessons. You sound like a student of George Carlin — “One tequila, two tequila, three tequila, FLOOR!”

    If I was drinking more than red wine, it’d be incoherent. I’m drunk again tonight but I can blame my friend for leaving a reasonably expensive bottle of wine out for me when I went to cat-sit. πŸ™‚

    But, yeah, on hard alcohol, me no can write. On red wine? Not a problem!

    Beer’s okay, too. Depends on the drunk.

    High is seldom ever a problem either. Heh. Ahh, I’m such a problem child sometimes.

    Meanwhile: Thanks for the comment about your calamitous high school. It’s all so fucked up.

    Sooooo fucked up. Thanks, really, for commenting. It’s a disturbing thing. Ironically, being well-informed is easier than ever, but look at the fucking Welch’s generation, for fuck’s sake.

    BAH. Stupid religious numb-nuts! Fucking idiots! Just like my bumpersticker: The last time we combined religion with politics, people were burned at the stake.

    Sigh. It’s a crime, this abstinence-only bullshit, and I’ll fucking duke it out with garbage can lids in my back alley with any fuckwit who wants to argue me. No, really. FUCK.

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