I’m supposed to be at a Halloween party right now.
It’s being hosted by one of my favorite people, the lead singer of our band. There’s a few issues, however. One, he lives about sixty minutes away from where my place. Next, I don’t have a good costume. Third, I’m exhausted.
One of the best parts of drinking and drugs is those moments where, while inebriated, you finally “figure things out.”
Since I don’t drink or use drugs those moments come to me as I fall asleep. I’ll give you an example. Last night I was feeling some fear. No particular reason, but as I was drifting off I noticed I was scared about life in general. I was becoming less conscious by the moment, and the fear continued to intensify. This was kind of cool to notice, but also not fun.
This morning I received an interview request from the Chicago Tribune.
Since I’m always in search of external validation I was excited that someone felt it was important to talk with me. About me.
If you’re not familiar with Chicago, the Tribune is our flagship newspaper and one of the ten biggest in the country. The have real reporters and probably an ombudsman. They’re the real deal. I announced at work that they sent me a message to interview me. Just the other day an obscene t-shirt manufacturer reached out to me asking to help promote their clothing line. They said to pick any t-shirt I wanted for free. I also had practically yelled this at work. Nobody was impressed.
Normally I don’t write much about my personal life.
There are certain boundaries I set in my writing to maintain some semblance of privacy. I haven’t shared about the time I had triplets and sold them to the circus. I couldn’t believe you could still do that, by the way. In 2008, no less! Also, I never wrote about the time I got into a fistfight with my grandmother because she totally wasn’t being cool. Oh, and I felt the need to quiet that whole “keeping several mistresses” thing. Those gals are crazy!
Tonight I asked you what I should write about. Here’s what you bozos suggested.
First, I don’t think goth chicks get out on the open sea much. And, if so, I don’t think they’re big fans of crab fishing and eating kelp and stuff. I will say though, that their black eyeliner would make them look like pirates.
My nap addiction has finally made me hit bottom. Literally.
Tonight, after feasting on too much pizza, I sat on my couch working on the computer. My couch is long and comfortable and a great place to fall asleep. I’m not someone who sleeps anywhere but a bed, however it’s the kind of couch where you could, if you wanted, pass out.
My friend Jackée Harry (from 227) got married tonight.
I don’t know the real Jackée but out of respect I should probably change the bride’s name. (It’s Erin)
Three years ago I was invited by someone I knew in A.A. (I’m an alcoholic – thankfully sober) who was starting a group called The Experiment. The structure was very simple. Meet in a room once a week and tell the truth about what’s really going on in your life. The good and the bad. This is a safe place to bring your shit.
I had nothing to do tonight so I went to to a dog costume Halloween party.
My boss often suggests that I attend networking events. The problem is that I’m busy most nights and, oh yeah, I don’t like networking events. Well, that’s not entirely true. Put me at a blogger convention and I’ll run around talking to everyone. If there was a Fresca roundtable group I’d run a smear campaign against my opponent to win the treasurer position.
I'll never give this child another cigarette, pinky swears!
