Tuesday, October 21, 2008

Johnny Rumble:
Back On The Bottle

Oh yes. It's true. I quit trying to quit. A quit quitter.

But the time away from the demon drink has found me in a new train of thought about it. Where I didn't used to care about how drunk I'd get, or even where, I know look upon alcohol as an occational dose of relief from a stressful week, or the treat from doing such a good job on whatever it is that I did I good job on.

But I'd like to take a side trip down memory lane right now. And don't worry, we arn't going that far back.

This past week has been a very, very odd week for me. Starting on Wednesday, a evangelist showed up to the campus and started on the typical "God loves you so much that you're going to hell" Christian philosophy of love arguments and preaching. I learned that I was a sinner and that I was going to hell. I then learned that God does not forgive or forget the sins of men and women, and we ALL will have to atone and face judgement. I then learned that this particular Christian is a former crack dealer and gang banger. I made note of his statements, turned the tables, and he ignored me for the rest of the two hours I stood there heckling him and his "God's love" hate speech.

Then I got molested and groped twice by a woman that I don't know, and have never met in life. Don't ask, because I don't know.

Thursday night was debauchery night. Total debauchery. I got groped again by the same woman and finally learned her name. I then went to Homedown Buffet and had a deep and meaningful conversation with my friends about the differences between "cornbread" and "carn-bread." True southern cornbread with a true southern accent. Chuck in Guys and Dolls Poolhall and some Heineken Dark, and I was buzzing for the rest of night singing what I hoped was intune with the jukebox in the corner. We decided that this will become a weekly ritual.

Friday was Snookers (another pool hall) night, and I really got plastered. Balls to the wall, face in the mud, and down for the count plastered. That hang-over was the very first one I've ever had, and even then it went away after the first 30 minutes of the day. Which was afternoon.

Repeat Friday for Sunday night, this time back at Guys and Dolls, and you can imagine that my liver and kidneys are ready to call thier lawyer and request a divorce.

Sad thing is, I still have beer in the house that dosen't belong to me.

That Guy,

Johnny Rumble

1 comment:

  1. and i wonder how'd you let a stranger woman "molest and grope" you, repeatedly...