1.25.2010

Another Day, Another Shot?


I promise I didn’t used to think about booze this much before I moved back in with my sober parents. Granted I am really happy for them, I mean the fact that they get up at 6:30 every morning for a meeting is definitely a step up from me always being the last kid to be picked up after dance class. But never have I ever fantasized about booze more. Hot toddies and White Russians slosh nicely through my sub-conscientious. I crave a shower beer, half for my mouth, half for my hair, it’s a really good conditioner and its takes the edge off. I told my parents I would be home tonight around 7:30, well when I strolled in at 9:45 the questions came rolling out much like the now loudly raging river going through our backyard after all this rain. “What happened to 7:30?” hmmm well some sushi with a friend in town, a large Sapporo, large sake and Sade’s the 10’ x 10’, 80 year old, 70’s rock playing, hole in the wall bar happened to 7:30. I love a place where no one knows who I am, especially since I’ve moved back to my home town, I do my best to keep it a secret as I don’t plan on staying long. I am constantly on craigslist looking for rooms to rent and jobs to get even though I know I am staying here for at least 6 months. It keeps my hope of independence alive, kind of, or it just rubs in the fact that I won’t be the “friendly, on the quiet side, perhaps a student who is somewhat clean and thoughtful of others” to anyone for a long time.

1.11.2010

Midnight Snacking

11:00pm Just got home, 3-5 beers deep, interview tomorrow 10:30am.

F-ing starving, really should have stopped at Jack in the Box or maybe I should have eaten today instead of sleeping and watching that Millionaire Matchmaker marathon. Anyway, there is nothing to eat here. I mean the fridge is full of vegetables and stuff but who wants that when they are craving deep friend tacos, yeah not me. After completing my rounds of the late night internets and listening to a  Dolby Surround Sound quality snore/sleep talking fest,  (my parents really have quite the orchestration happening at night) I remember my dad was eating Ritz crackers all day as he came in and out of my room to see what I was doing. Who I was talking to? Where was I last night? How many drinks did I have? What kind of drinks were they? What am I going to do later? Did I want the cat in here? Etc, ad nauseam. Also, yes the novelty of how cool my parents are has worn off in this brief month. Like I was saying, these Ritz crackers, I’m thinking they would go really well with the rest of the cranberry goat cheese I ate yesterday left over from some Christmas gift basket. I go into the kitchen, no delightfully buttery Ritz to be found, just one crumbly peanut butter cookie that has obviously been carried about in a shirt front pocket. My Dad can often be found with some kind of sweet treat in his front shirt pocket. I eat some crumbles of this, not very good, I have grown to despise peanut butter cookies as they are his favorite. I remember I have some Kale salad from when I went to Whole Foods and was trying to pretend I was healthy in front of some old friends. Kale salad it is then, not exactly fried tacos but it will have to do. My mom walks into the kitchen barely out of her sleep talking stupor, “Where’s the Ritz?” I ask. She looks at me as if I am not her only child, “Ha, your dad ate all of those, here’s some other crackers.” Let me tell you, stale water crackers and kale salad do not a semi-drunk midnight meal make.

1.08.2010

My Mom


My Mom has the same text message alert as me, it alerts her quite a bit more often than my phone does. She just started texting in 2009 and she’s old. Who the hell is texting her? and why the hell am I not receiving more sexts?

My Mom has a Facebook, I accepted her friend request and she promised she wouldn’t look at my pictures. The next thing I know she’s commenting on them and telling everyone in our large extended family that they should join. I really don’t want her cousin in LA privy to my drinking habits, but that seems to be the road we’re going down. Speaking of which I should go untag myself in like every picture since I moved home, at the very least New Year’s.

 My Mom has been sick since before Thanksgiving. I came home today and she said she has a sore throat. She has self-diagnosed full body Candida. I mean I self diagnose with the best of them, I’ve had cholera, cat scratch fever, endometriosis, and skin cancer but unlike my Mom my symptoms discontinue and I’m not trying to cure them with colonics. She loves a natural “cure.” I only hope enough H2O2 inhalation can solve this two-month cold.

Life at home never proves dull, but that could be because I am rarely home. One month down living at home. I have an interview on Monday, I have been cast in the dance ensemble of a local play and according to my Mom I constantly smell of booze. It could be said I am living the dream, It’s just not my dream.