VivaCity

I know you’ll think I’m posting blatant lies on the Internet, but this evening I will actually be leaving the house for a short period of time during which I will consume as many alcoholic drinks as I can while desperately attempting to portray a sane adult who does this all the time and throwing furtive glances at the clock when my girlfriend is not looking. Wish me luck.

My friend Tiffany has been asking, begging rather, for me to go out and socialize with her. I keep claiming that the outside world no longer exists, therefore I see no need to build a façade of normalcy and parade it around in front of them. I am much more comfortable being a goofball in the comfort of my own home, where the booze is cheap and the conversation is to-the-point. How big did you say the baby’s bowel movement was today?? Jesus. Pour the scotch.

But the outside world has intruded on my little bubble life, dear readers, in a big way, which I will go into at a later point when I feel safe doing so. Heed ye always the wise words of dooce (dooce.com), who bids us to be ye not so stupid as to discuss work issues while, oh I don’t know, still employed there. Wait til ye have socked it to the man before discussing his many, many irritating habits and the downright shockingly two-faced way you have been treated and misled. Ye olde fuckers will bear the brunt of my wrath, I assure you, and in due time I shall share my story. Put the kiddies to bed early that day and pour yourselves a drink or eight, it’s going to be a looong entry.

So dear sweet Tiff, who has been thus far so patient with my stubborn refusals to leave my poor babies even temporarily motherless, will be treated to nothing less than my best effort at cheery relaxedness, which will of course actually be drunkenness. Which is fine too. Cross your fingers for me tonight, faithful reader…I will be gingerly walking that fine line between just enough alcohol to be able to laugh casually and carelessly toss my hair over my shoulder, and way, way too much alcohol, in which said hair must be held back from my face so as not to impede the flow of vomit. The way things have been going at work here lately, I’m really leaning towards the latter.