Day 4.

It's official, the world thinks I'm an alcoholic:

Something called '@seemydrink' is now following me on twitter (you should all probably follow me on twitter, especially if I don't know you!  When strangers follow me I feel famous.  @powertequila).
Basically this implies that someone somewhere who I don't know has read my excessive tweets about drinking (most of which start with 'lol driiinkk...') and began to follow me from this account... cool!

But they will be disappointed.


I'm on Day 4 of my journey to not drink for 60 days.  Meaning my tweets will be lacking in drunkenness for the time being (I'll more than make up for it on New Years, I promise).

Not drinking for four days is not unheard of... even I've gone that far before.  That being said, it's Friday night.  Friday.  Key word being Friday.  Other important word being Night.  Friday Night.  Friday screams 'drinking' and night screams 'it's acceptable to drink at this hour.'  Naturally the two together scream a recipe for drunkenness and disaster.  Fortunately I've a prior commitment to attend to tonight and can't drink (even if I wanted to).  Day 4 = success.

But tomorrow is Saturday (click for clarification).  Saturdays have nights too.  Saturday screams 'it's not friday but i'll take it, go drink.'  I'm going to have to do things like driving and surgery in order to keep myself sober (I'm against drunk driving and drunk surgery).

Anyway... since I'm not drinking I'll probably update semi-frequently from now on... it's not like I'll be doing something outlandish like... studying or some shit.

** I understand that this probably won't get a lot of reads, considering most of you will be drinking tonight.  Unlike me. :(

*** I LIKE FOLLOWERS AND SUBSCRIBERS SO DO THOSE THINGS.  kthxbyeee

things that piss me off about eating

I think that this is the highest concentration of the word 'fuck' of any blog post.


I'm sure I have an earlier blog post about how much I hate whole wheat bread.  To summarize:
Whole wheat bread tastes like shit.  I would rather swallow sandpaper than eat a sandwich made with whole wheat bread (the sad thing is, I'm only exaggerating a little).  Whenever I bitch about how I'm being served whole wheat bread, I always get the same reply: "It's good for you!" Shut the the fuck up.  I lost 25 pounds this summer eating at least four slices of WHITE bread every day.  Not once did I torture my tastebuds with the carboard-like texture of the monstrosity and abomination that is whole wheat bread.  And I still successfully lost weight.  So go fuck yourself.
Moving on -

I like sour cream.  A lot.  I would sit there eating out of a tub of sour cream if it wasn't grossly unhealthy and probably socially unacceptable.  So naturally I'm pissed off when people judge/criticize me for loading copious amounts of sour cream on everything.
Am I pouring sour cream on your food?  No.
Am I eating it directly from the container?  Rarely.
Am I spitting sour cream out of my mouth to piss you off?  No, but that would be kind of funny.
Exactly.  So shut the fuck up and let me eat my food with an unhealthy amount of sour cream.

I'm a messy eater.  You're a fucking bitch.  I don't tell you you're a fucking bitch, so don't tell me I'm a messy eater.  K? K.

I'm a pescetarian, meaning I eat fish and only eat other animals while drunk no other animals.  Generally at gatherings where pizza is available, the person organizing said gathering decides to be 'respectful' and order pepperoni pizza for the omnivores and vegetarian pizza for the others.  The thing about vegetarian pizza is that it's covered in olives (I fucking hate olives) and peppers and other shit that I don't want.  Just because I don't eat meat doesn't fucking mean I want olives on my god damn pizza.  Get CHEESE pizza.  You probably can't go wrong.  If you don't/can't eat cheese... then don't eat pizza. 


Last thing that pisses me off about eating (and it's a big one):
I love spaghetti.  I would go as far as to say it's my favourite food.  However, I like spaghetti with butter and parmesan cheese.  No sauce.  So it FUCKING PISSES ME OFF WHEN CUNTS POUR SAUCE ALL OVER MY FUCKING SPAGHETTI WITHOUT ASKING ME.  I've never hit someone in my life but my closest moments have been a result of this.
It's almost equally frustrating when I sit down with my spaghetti and get weird looks and am asked "you don't put sauce on your spaghetti?"  MIND YOUR OWN FUCKING BUSINESS.


... I wasn't in a bad mood before I wrote this but now I'm gonna go on a rampage.  BYE!

Living the unemployed life

Today, I did little to contribute to society.

Not by choice, but by my sheer inability to get hired at anywhere in Bridgewater. 

Instead, I find my days filled with doing laps in the pool and going for runs, as a means of losing the freshman 15.  Which I did!  18 pounds down, ohfuckya.  But the other day, I ate three cupcakes so I did some dance aerobics alone in my room.   I think it helped.  

To supplement my problem drinking, I clean my own house weekly for money as well as do the occasional yardwork for my parents.  What's that you say?  I should be doing that for free since I live here for the time being?  I say fuck you.  I also did yardwork this week for a couple... exercise AND money AND a tan?!  HELL YA!

My dad recently had surgery which has left him temporarily housebound... I can't just sit in my room playing Pokemon anymore, I think he'd judge me.  Then again, his definition of "new clothes" is his lovely "2011 5km run/walk" shirt he wore in public today... ahem.

Being unemployed has had its perks.  It's given me time to attempt to become healthy... especially since I can no longer afford excessive McDonald's.  It's given me time to beat Pokemon Red version.  It's given me time to frolic through the forests of Midville Branch.  It's given me time to learn how to use a lawnmower.  It's given me time to bake delicious cupcakes.
When you think about it... I've actually learned WAY more by being unemployed than any job could possibly offer.

Unfortunately, learning new skills such as pokemon training and lawnmowing has very limited financial prospects.  I literally froze my debit card a few weeks ago so that I can salvage my savings and only spend the physical cash I encounter.

Dramatization of me achieving financial success through the magic of ice.

Anyway... if you're reading this and hiring in the Bridgewater area... please contact me for a resume :)  Also, if you're considering hiring me... please don't read any of my other posts.  Especially the one about church.
  

my addiction.

No, this isn't about drinking. 


In January, I walked into my friend Natalie's room and she was watching One Tree Hill.  At first I was like "oh fuck no, this is that show that EVERYONE was obsessed with in high school that is PROBABLY stupid even though I've never seen a - OH MY FUCKING GOD SOMETHING INTENSE JUST HAPPENED I MUST WATCH!"

The addiction began.

I borrowed season one and powered through it in three days.  

Up late? One tree hill.

Hungover? One tree hill.

I was an unstoppable One Tree Hill watching machine. 

The next few weeks I compulsively watched One Tree Hill.  

It was a vicious cycle:

Late nights meant I would watch One Tree Hill.  Watching One Tree Hill meant late nights.  

Being hungover meant watching OTH.  Watching OTH meant... well, there is no connection here but I ended up drinking.  Then I was hungover which meant watching OTH... you get it.  There was no way out.

Sooner or later I made it to season three, and that's when things spiraled out of control.  

For you fans of OTH, you'll know that Haley James Scott sings a song called 'Halo' (obviously not the Beyonce one) in season three.  For some inexplicable reason, I was briefly OBSESSED with that song.  It's the number one most played on my itunes.  I listened to it and hummed it almost constantly.  It reminds of me of OTH which makes me watch it MORE!!!!!

I was completely and entirely aware of my obsession but there was no way out.  For weeks, I powered through the seasons, wondering how I went about my day-to-day life without this show.  This has to stop, I thought desperately.  But what happens next?  I can't just stop watching, that would be stupid, I've spent all this time getting up to season six, I only have two more seasons left.  

I remember lying in bed, clutching a bottle of ginger ale and trying not to agitate my horrific headache.  It was the last episode before I would finally be caught up with where season 8 was in-progress.  I don't really remember what happened.  All I know is, I started crying.  I don't even think the episode was sad, but my life as I knew it had changed for good.  


Months later, as I sit at home unemployed, I spend my days pondering what to do between the days of OTH and the season premiere of Big Brother.  I bought seasons 1 and 2 of One Tree Hill on DVD and watch them on the treadmill sometimes... the most ingenious and highly effective weight loss regimen I've ever came up with.  Try it sometime, you just might lose YOUR freshman 15 ;)

you probably shouldn't read this if your name is Jesus.

On Sunday morning, I did something I never thought I'd do, and never plan to do again.

And no, it wasn't crack cocaine.

But for the record, I wouldn't do that either.

I WENT TO CHURCH!!!
That's right.  A Catholic (I think?) church.  Albeit, I went to exploit the local church for bonus points (as did many others in my music of the church class), but still.  I was there, with Jesus.  I made many observations throughout the performance...

1. There was no cover... at least upfront
When Jasmin and I rolled up outside the church, I asked her if I had to pay a cover charge to get in.  She laughed and said no, and explained that church isn't the same thing as a nightclub.  Interesting.  What she DIDN'T tell me was that about halfway through the performance, some bitch handed around this bucket thing where everyone threw in some form of money... and not just pennies and nickels, there were ten dollar bills floating around in there.  I awkwardly threw in the quarter I had in my pocket and received dirty looks from the old man further down on our bench.

2. There was a lot of standing up, and then sitting down.  
I don't know about everyone else in that building, but Sunday = recovery day.  So the fact that everyone was basically rising UP and then DOWN as if in a choreographed dance was not good for my upset stomach.
Most of the time, the stand-ups were accompanied by the singing of some terrible song that I didn't know.  I was nearly visited by the ghost of vodka from the night before, but I managed to suppress the urge to vomit all over the house of Jesus.

3. Swearing is frowned upon
Everytime we had to stand up, I'd whisper (loudly) to Jasmin something along the lines of "Jesus fuck, again?  What is it with these assholes and standing up all the god damn time?."  She told me that I shouldn't say such things in church because it was offensive to God or something like that.  Luckily I don't believe in God and so I continued to swear under my breath every time I switched from a standing position to a sitting position.
*Note: I didn't swear just to be rude in church, it was kind of like a reflex, half of the time I don't even notice I'm doing it.  Hangovers and early mornings are my worst moments, and this was a mix of both... what do you expect?


4. The obvious dangers of the spread of mono or oral herpes.
The next part of the show caught me off guard: everyone in the building stood in a line, and one by one, proceeded to drink wine from the same cup.  FROM THE SAME FUCKING CUP!  Some random woman wiped the glass off between drinkers with the same cloth... I feel like that's not sanitary in any capacity.  In all seriousness, what if the first drinker had something like mono or oral herpes?  Or fuck, even a cold!  It would be spread to everyone in the church, would it not?
Also noteworthy about this portion of the show was the fact that prior to the wine, each person was given a few morsels of bread.  What if it was whole wheat? I  don't like whole wheat.  Why would I go to church for bread when there was a nearby McDonald's?

I guess I just don't really understand church, or how people can go to it every week.

the week I didn't eat mcdonalds

Those of you know me well (or simply have me on facebook) would know that I'm a self-proclaimed McDonald's addict.  Sober, drunk, or hungover, I frequently crave the succulent, salty, ketchupy goodness that McDonald's offers.  The downside is that I've come to realize that I like McDonald's a little too much.  Over March Break, there was one day where I ate McDonald's three times.  This is where I did a self-intervention and decided to take some time off.


Two days later my car was broken into and McDonald's was the rational thing to do.  I started over.


Monday Morning
I really wanted Mcdonald's to feel better after the whole car/being drunk thing that had happened.  Fortunately, being without a vehicle made McDonald's seem like an arduous, impossible task, so I was safe Monday.  I had to worry about other things, Micky Dee's didn't really seem like a priority.


Tuesday
Things were getting tough.  The letter 'M' threw me into fits of sweat and panic where I was reminded of the golden arches that I had grown to love and to trust.  I felt panic attacks coming on.  I became irritable.  I even dropped the F-bomb repeatedly at my father, even after he gave me $1,000 to pay for the shit that got f'ed up in relation to the car.  Tuesday felt like the end.


Wednesday
Stress distracted me from the allure of McDicks.  Numerous homework assignments and a three-hour class were effective in distracting me from my addiction.  I drank a beer but was otherwise healthy.  I felt like I could overcome my challenge.


Thursday
Shit hit the fan.  Car came back, I was desperate.  I drove by and sadly looked in the windows at all of the obese children and picky old people and remembered when I used to belong there.   The light turned green, however, and I drove back to res... I felt stronger than before.  
Then I got drunk.  Obviously I wasn't going to drive after drinking, but that didn't mean I couldn't get someone sober to drive for me.  In my drunken haze I probably asked some people to take me.  I don't really know what happened... but I ended up laying down with a bottled water to recover slightly.  Upon feeling better, I took some shots and hit the downtown.  Due to my lack of sleep on wednesday, my return to my room after the bar meant I passed out almost instantaneously, leaving no opportunity for McDonalds.


Friday
I roadtripped to Saint John with a few people.  I thought, "this is it, we're going to need to get food, and we're going to get McDonalds."  I opted for A&W.  I know it's still fast food, but hey, it's not McD's.  Also, I chose the grilled chicken sandwich.  A step in the right direction.  That night was similar to Thursday's story-  I was too tired when I got home from a crazy night out to get McD's and consequently went to bed.


Saturday
I really, really wanted breakfast from McD's to cure my hangover.  I went to the caf to distract myself.  I ate more than enough food and consequently threw it back up.  Then went back to bed.  When I re-awoke at like 3 or 4, the liquor store needed to be visited and the room needed to be cleaned.  By the time I was free it was time to drink.  I took a cab back from the student pub and passed out very early.  A concerned RA gave me some sliced bread, but that was the closest I came to McDonald's all week.


Sunday
finally, a week later I went to McDonald's again.  So. fucking. satisfying.

The Flying Fuck

Hi, I'm updating for the first time in two bajillion years.

Tonight, whilst drinking because it's St Patty's Day and finishing some homework (classy, I know), I repeatedly uttered the phrase, "I don't give a flying fuck!"  usually in reference to my lack of homework completion, or the fact that I'm drinking and it's Wednesday night/Thursday morning.
Then I was like... "what's a flying fuck?"

I envision it as a bat-like creature.  With red eyes.  And an axe.   And it can fly.
Well obviously it can fly, it's a motherfucking bat-like creature.  Anyway, this is my artist's rendition:

Anyway, that's what a flying fuck would be if it were an animal.  But who coined the phrase "I don't give a flying fuck" ?
Maybe it means that you're angry about something, but you don't care about it enough to force a flying fuck upon it.
"Those old people really pissed me off, but I really don't hate them enough to give them a flying fuck, so I guess I'll just leave them alone."  
"I have a paper due in like 20 minutes, and it's not done.  Clearly unleashing a flying fuck would be irrational and wouldn't help me finish my paper, so I shall exclaim that 'I don't give a flying fuck!'" 

It appears as though saying that you don't give a Flying Fuck means that you're just too apathetic about the situation to wish something SO horrible on whoever is responsible for it.

But what if I did give a Flying Fuck?
Instead of internally thinking "I don't give a flying fuck about your carpal tunnel syndrome you old bitch," I could exclaim "I GIVE YOU A FLYING FUCK!" and unleash one upon her.  It would... I don't know, I don't know what a Flying Fuck would do... you could say... I don't give a flying fuck!

Anyhow... that was my first update in awhile.  Sorry it sucked.  If you liked it subscribe or comment or something.  if you hated it, well, I GIVE A FLYING FUCK.  Go get raped by its ax or red eyes or bat-like powers, bitch.

I swore too much in this, sorry Grammie if you read this.

things that piss me off... but probably shouldn't

Being home has reminded me of the obscure things in life that tend to grind my gears a little bit.  Some are obvious, and universally shared (old people, traffic, etc), but others I can't help but feel that I'm the only one who is annoyed by them.  That being said, they are every bit as annoying as old people and traffic, and if anyone out there agrees with me on some of these, please comment and let me know. I'd feel less alone. :(

1. People who say things like "I don't own a TV - that stuff rots your brain" to make themselves look better than me.

You're not better than me just because you don't own a TV.

You sit in your house bored and wish you were watching Big Bang Theory.

You're also not better than me because you scrunch up your nose and say "ew, how do you EAT there?" when I announce that I've just returned from McDonald's.  Healthier, yes.  But better?  No.  You eat thinsations while I eat McNuggets.  Dallas = 1, self-righteous asshole - 0. 

You're not better than me because you say "Christmas has gotten too materialistic."  It's Christmas.  I want shit.  You want shit.  Get off your high horse and appreciate the shit we bought you.

2. When I'm baking something, and someone asks "oh! what are you making?"
When I was baking cookie dough truffles (more on that here) I was happily baking alone in the kitchen.  That's when my mother had to ruin my fun by enthusiastically exclaiming "MMMMMMMM! THAT SMELLS GOOD! WHATCHA MAKIN'??????????????????????????"  (Note, my mother is an English teacher and would not incorrectly use that many question marks.  I'm just including them because they represent how eager she was to find this out.)  You'd think this is just a simple question to which I would reply "cookie dough truffles!" but no.
Me: smthing.
Mom: What?
Me: SOMETHING.
Mom: Oh, okay!
*silence*
Mom: Is it cookies?
Me: No.
*silence*
Me: Do you want something?
*mom leaves, dad enters*
Dad: Oh! What are you making? Pancakes?

How COOKIE DOUGH looks like PANCAKES is beyond me.


3. When driving past this house that has a lot of christmas lights, and my dad says "jesus jesus christ, what an eyesore!"
Every year, there's this house on the way to my house that is absolutely decked out in Christmas lights.  People are amazed - including me - however, my father disapproves: (Note: The below does not do the lights justice)

We always try to emphasize to him that the lights are lovely, not an eyesore, but he persits every fucking time we drive by them.  This year was bearable in that this Christmas I'm finally with license and seldom have to drive with him.  That being said, he brings his frustrations home where he announces "I SAW THE UGLIEST FUCKING HOUSE TODAY..."

4. Fat kids with fat parents at fast food places.
This doesn't really piss me off so much as it makes me sad.  Children do not care about their weight (I speak from personal experience of being a grossly overweight kid), so when your kid is already on the verge of obesity, don't bring it to McDonald's.  If you have a healthy-looking kid who probably plays sports, then by all means.  But if it's already turning into a mini Rosie o'Donnell, give it a salad.

5. That commercial where a British woman tries to guilt you into sponsoring starving children in Africa.
Seriously... this plays like twice each commercial break.  I'm a starving university student (k, not really, but still) who can't afford to do this, so stop harrassing me about it.  She even concludes the commercial with: "Please call ... RIGHT NOW."  It's like... fuck off, bitch.  Yes I feel bad for less fortunate people but leave me alone.  The commercial has - if anything - made me less likely to sponsor anyone when I'm older.