Complaint by Numbers

Brief Update | October 30, 2007

I’ll admit, my life is anything but exciting, but for the last two weeks, I’ve been able to completely write that off as an unfortunate, but inevitable by-product of a World Series-driven culture. That is to say, I originally hail from Boston (ish) and thus, have been glued to my television since the post season started, waiting for Manny Ramirez to learn to speak English. This pipe dream failing to manifest, I settled for a World Series title.

Despite baseball season having ended, there is still no hope of my ever leaving the comfort and safety of my minuscule social circle. It’s not that I have trouble making friends, it’s more that I lack any desire to see these people. Also, from what I’ve been told, being bitchy and promiscuous do not help in the process of maintaining friendships. One would think I’d have learned this in high school, but you know- old dog, new tricks (heh). It won’t happen.

Mind you, I’ve managed to cut the promiscuity (thanks to the miracle of monogamy), but Bitchy is a trait that simply cannot leave my behavioral vocabulary. It’s not my fault that I simply do not wish to be in the same room with certain people. It’s not my fault that some of these people happen to be in my former circle of friends. I just can’t help it. I also can’t help that two of my closest friends are abroad for this entire semester (though, J is gone for the year). Were it not for this, there would currently be far more pictures on facebook featuring my tits, “drunk face,” or some combination of the two.

Since this is turning into more of a rant than anything else, I’ll go into the mechanics of my drinking style and then explain why I simply can’t do it anymore. When I drink, I inevitably make out with, or fuck, the closest thing with a penis. This happens to be my boyfriend now, but clearly poses a problem were I to go out drinking with the girls. There are too many random guys, and too few people to babysit me. Also, I’m poor (I need a job).

Ironically, my being poor (and thus unable to drink) is a direct result of my drinking. After I quit my job at daycare a month and a half early this summer (I just couldn’t take it), I no longer felt any sort of “responsibility.” This lead to about a month of partying (with an honest-to-god week filled with nothing but drinking, and other partying-related behaviors). The constant staying up, and consuming nothing but massive amounts of food led to my dropping 9 pounds in five days. It set me back a fucking fortune, but by gum, it was worth it.

I realize that this post has all the coherence of an episode of Tyra, but it’s early, so bear with me.


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