There's a tear in my beer.

There are merits to alcoholism that I think AA and their ilk have overlooked. If you drink enough often enough you get to live your life in two distinct ways. 1) In an alcoholic fog where everything is fun and you're generally too paralytic to move and 2) So fucking hungover and in pain that nothing else seems even remotely important than the hell you are feeling at the present moment.

I have recently rediscovered this as result of my life coming crashing down around me (in a rather spectacular fashion I might add). While having a wicked hangover can make your work duties hard to perform, at least I have the solace that some of my coworkers are feeling just as bad as I am. In addition, while in the depths of the toxic after effects of a good night, I can easily ignore all of the dramatic bullshit that the others around me seem to exhibit with frightening regularity.

If you're wondering, it's 4:15 on a Saturday afternoon and I'm on my 5th beer, and if the beer isn't enough, I have a bottle of bitchin' wine that one of the few lovely women that I work with gave me for my birthday. So all told I know I'm in for a good afternoon (I'd say a good night, but at this rate I don't think I'll see 7 o'clock). It must be interesting for you, the reader, to watch my personal meltdown over the course of this blog. I imagine it's like watching a car accident or train wreck, brutal but you can't peel your eyes away from the carnage.

One day I expect to wake up and see a note from my liver saying it's left me due to the fact that I've done nothing but abuse the poor fucker for so many years. In response to that eventuality I say "Good Riddance, I don't fuckin' need you anyway".

With that I raise my glass to me and to the rest of you, well you can get fucked, fuck off, or do whatever you wish, I have the two things that have never fucked me over, booze and music.