My sister says I need to join alcoholics anonymous. I tell her everyone knows I’m a goddamned alcoholic, so it’s not very anonymous. My sister is a bitch. And I don’t say this because she wants me to join a program. I say this because she acts like bitch. She has made fun of me every thanksgiving since she could talk. I only come home on thanksgiving because there’s enough food to keep me sober and my mother is a saint of a woman who doesn’t mind that I’m a degenerate drunk who’s only kept alive because you make money off my depressed ramblings. At least I think you make money off these, otherwise this would be a little creepy. Though I’ve never seen these published in a magazine. Though I haven’t read a magazine except for “highlight” and “pregnant today” at the free clinic. Soooo. I hate being too drunk to be poor. Wait. Too poor to be drunk. Though I suppose it goes both ways. Like the fat man who eats because he’s depressed and fat because he eats. Though I’m not fat and it doesn’t depress me that I drink. If I didn’t drink I think I’d go insane. They say alcohol drives people crazy but that’s obviously a lie. People drink to keep from going insane, the people that drink know they’re going insane anyway and they might as well forget about it for a few hours. I gleaned this information from a meeting outside an AA meeting my sister dropped me off at in exchange for forty bucks. She doesn’t care if I drink; she just likes to scare her kids with what might happen to them if they ever drink a single drop of alcohol. Of course they’ll go insane in college the first drink they have will somehow become 8 and they’ll wind up blowing a fellow drunk freshman behind the dorms. At least Billy will, that kid is gayer than a Liberace Elton John swirl. And his moronic mother is in denial, luckily for him I gave him the “be whoever the fuck you want to be speech” and I think that maybe next year when he gets into middle school it’ll sink in. Gay is the new black. People playing at something they’re not for social status and personal freedom knowing they can pretend for a few minutes without having to deal with the rest of their lives. And if I were sober enough to see the numbers on the word count I’d have proof this is enough for a case of ramen and three handles of plastic bottle gin. Hell, if you throw in a bonus I might even get a jug of pop to drink it with.
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