Thursday, February 22, 2007

I wish my genes were jeans, so I could wash them and make them seem new again

Yeah, so, last night I drank a bottle of wine I had opened four weeks ago, and sat at the table taking oversized bites off a block of expired Romano cheese to satiate my appetite for being, well, a growing middle-aged drunk guy. As the t-shirt says, "Life is Good". I wish I had the waist line of the stick figure on that shirt. Alas, I am said middle-aged and growing drunk guy.

Both of my biological(?) parents are closet drinkers, as in they don't drink to their full potential in public settings, but get them home---in a taxi that I had to pay for or after a drunk driving accident, whichever comes first---and sobriety is just another word that starts with a letter of the alphabet that their combined fourth grade education never got to. I question the biology, as there is still some faint glimmer of hope that a sane and caring couple will step forward and claim me as their long-lost child. If any of you tries to take that hope away, I'll cut off your balls and/or tits and mail them to you.

As should be obvious from the first line of this post, I seem to have picked up my parents' affinity for all things alcohol (and most things of little to no dietary quality). I sat, braised in a cheap wine that was almost entirely grape flavored vinegar by the time I got to drinking it, and I wondered how far the proverbial apple actually falls from the genetically mutated tree. In my case, the apple never fell, it was plucked and made into apple wine. Yay, booze! You see, when it comes to my second favorite pass time (after reading of course), I'm certainly out of the closet. Let's see:
Drunk at parties: check
Drunk at shows: check
Drunk at ballgames or while watching ballgames on tv: check and check
Drunk at your house: check
Drunk at my house: check
Drunk at work (but only during thirsty Thursdays, beer hour Fridays, and at lunch): check

Well, it would appear that I've got the bases fully covered, as it were.

Still, I can't help but wonder what things would be like if I had different parents. Perhaps I would have turned out like this

Alas, as you all know, I turned out like this

I'm working on a follow-up to this post, a transcript based on what I can rememeber of a phone conversation that I had with both of my parents while the three of us were sloshed. I think there was plenty of international intrigue, political scandal, general villainry, and Darth Vader. It should be incoherent at best. I'm looking forward to it being a huge flop in the blogosphere, much like the rest of my posts.


egan said...

Do we need an intervention sir? I'm addicted to the Intervention show on A&E. Hey, this post is a step in the right direction.

Lord Fondleberries said...

intervene at will my fake internet friend.

lord f

third swan to the left said...

yeah, my dad died from alcoholism and catholocism. i try to avoid both and i am trying to come up with a new, yet fresh way to off myself. marriage seems to be only killing my precious husband, since he works now more than ever. hmmm, i am quite the martyr, perhaps i'll jump in front of a bus to save a spotted owl from being hit?
then again, if i don't recover my pre-marital figure after all of this working out etc. i might just kill myself. OOHH wait, maybe i'll eat so much i'll explode, like that movie SEVEN. so many choices, such little time. keep on truckin'
The Martyrdom of Wife

grumblemurray said...

I love Meatwad.

le bruce bruce said...

since you seem to be the occasional verbage grammar police I think I need to point out that it's "pastime" not "pass time".

dick weed.

i love you.

Lord Fondleberries said...

bruce bruce: i hope you end up on the wrong end of a collision with a dump truck full of steamy shit. but i still heart you and your mustache.

lord f