While drunk in the good old days, all I had to worry about was drunk-dialing, i.e., calling someone, perhaps someone I might not normally call, and uninhibitedly pour my heart out. I might profess my love, confess my sins, or talk about all the freaky things I really wanted to do to them (Hopefully this wouldn’t be someone I’m related to.).
These days, one has to be concerned with drunk-texting, drunk-emailing, drunk-tweeting, and posting on face book while drunk; but the worst would be drunk-blogging! With blogging you have perhaps an international audience larger than your list of fb friends, or the address book in your phone, so the whole world would be a witness to your verbal diarrhea.
Here’s a list of things I might blog about while drunk and/or drinking (intermittent swigs of Jack Daniels, Jäger, corn liquor, lighter fluid, rubbing alcohol, Nyquil):
- My idea for a new government based on the barter system with some characteristics of the Amish culture. I would insert cockamamie graphs and charts of course. It would be pages long, with plenty of my philosophical musings. Some of the ideas would be repeated several times over, depending on how drunk I was.
- I would go on and on about how much I love my mother even though she thinks I hate her. I would talk about the time I did hate her then how I became compassionate and started to love her again, but how I hated her again for a brief period after that. I would then write out the entire history of our family which would eventually lead to why my mother is the way that she is. I would justify why she did the things that she did, then start crying while typing about the time when I was twelve and in the hospital how she bought me chocolates, pretty pajamas and stuffed animals. Of course this would lead to the chapter on how my childhood was so magical, with unicorns, rainbows, and lollipops, and with my mother singing and reading stories. I’d end it all with a blubbering sob while typing out in all caps, “MY POOR MOTHER NEVER HAD A CHANCE TO GET TO KNOW HERSELF; FOR CHRIST’S SAKE, SHE NEVER HAD A CHANCE!!!!!!!!!”
- There’d be philosophical musings on the barbarity of man.
- My love affair (in my head) with Peter Steele; I’d ramble on and on about the biorhythmic currents that kept us apart.
- I’d discuss the biorhythmic current (I have no idea what this means) responsible for bringing me almost to the point of success then repelling success away.
- The previous subject would lead into me discussing my past lives and of course in one of those lives I was an African warrior princess who rode on the backs of cheetahs.
Guys, let us pray this never happens.