Why Do I Do This to Myself?

14 01 2009


Well… Seems I’ve done it again. I am lying in bed nursing a hangover from the substantial amount of alcohol I consumed last night. I hate hangovers. I don’t want to work out the next day. I don’t want to eat. I fuck myself up. Terribly. Which brings me to the question I ask myself all the time. “Why do I do this to myself?” I could lie again and say that I’m never, ever drinking again, but it would just be an old song and dance. Why can’t alcohol be healthy? Like the more you drink, the more in shape you are.

So since my last post I’ve been to New York City. I went for New Year’s. This guy tried to pick me up in an elevator. Asking me if I wanted to make a sexytime with him. He had a Transformer’s backpack on and he was Indian. All I could think about while he was soliciting me was, “He’s probably a terrorist. Wonder what he’s got in the backpack. I wonder if it’s a bomb. Maybe some rope and ducktape.” I know it’s racist, but I really wanted to know what was in that backpack. When I refused he insisted, “I’m a nice guy.” Yeah. I don’t know too many nice Indian guys that walk around with a backpack trying to pick up hookers in an elevator. I’ve made some bad decisions before but I doubt this would be one of them. We stayed in Queens. I rode the subway for the first time in my life. It was okay. The only thing I didn’t like about it was we didn’t really know how to use it. And since Queens is about thirty minutes from Manahattan, it took us about oh five hours or so to get back to the room because we were shitfaced. That’s the main thing I didn’t like. I never have to wait on a damn train to get me where I’m going and get lost. When I’m drunk in North Carolina, I just get in my car and drive home. This guy Hi, my name is Param! I am no longer terrorist! kept following us around. It’s a long story. We ended up running from him. We went to see Rockerfeller Plaza. I don’t see the big deal. It was a big fucking tree and a shit ton of people. Nothing exciting about that. That’s the same reason we didn’t watch the ball drop. It was cold as hell. We went barhopping instead. My friend dropped her phone in my drink. Some Mexican guys kept buying us drinks and apparently ran out on their tab. Then the waitress expected us to pay it, so we ran. I’m not paying their shit. So we got drunk and stood outside and greeted all the passerby’s with Happy New Year! And then somehow Borat got brought up. So we started screaming Borat phrases like, “Very nice, how much?” Or, “We make a sexytime!” And other random things that caused the police to notice us. We were told that we had to go inside. People from New York asked me if I was from New York. I guess my sarcasm made them feel like I was one of them. They said I fit right in. I wanted to go to Ellis Island but unforunately, we didn’t have time. We paid like a million dollars in tolls. Other than that we had a pretty good time. We even made it down to Chinatown. NYC ws fun but I wouldn’t want to live there.

You know what else I’ve decided? I don’t want to be married. I don’t like the whole answering to someone else thing. It pisses me off. I am twenty six years old and I have to explain myself to someone who is not my parent or probation officer. I realize it comes with the territory. But I don’t think I like it anymore. I want to be able to do what I want to do, when I want to do it. And quite frankly, I think I could have done better. I know I sound like a bitch, but if I can’t be honest here, where can I be? Definitely not at work.

I’m tired of writing now. I’m too tired to give you a song today. So the song for the day is —- SILENCE, because that’s the soundtrack of my life right now. Silence…




Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: