Pretending to Be a Drug Addicted Alcoholic Because I Live Alone and Have Nothing Better to Do

 When I was a little girl, I used to dream of growing up and becoming a drug addict. I’m not sure where this ambition came from. My family consists of strict non-addicts and all I watched as a child was Nick at Nite, Wishbone, and neighborhood children running from my house in terror. I was somewhat violent. No big deal.

“I steal money from the poor and give it to my bitches.”

But my desire for drug addiction was not as self-destructive as it may sound. I only sought it for the cinematic aspects – the shaking, the sweating, the twitching, the crying, the screaming, the gay bathroom sex…ok, so The Basketball Diaries

Even as a 17 year old heroin addict Leo is still hotter than the prettiest people I know

is my only frame of reference for drug addiction. Whatever. My point is, my desire for the dramatics of a life-ruining sickness led to many preteen hours spent over a sink, splashing water onto my face, slapping my cheeks and staring intensely at my own reflection before screaming and throwing a handful of loose Smarties at the mirror, only to panic and immediately grasp them all, shoving them into my mouth and swigging down a glass of water before collapsing onto the floor in tears of self-hatred. Yes, I have parents. Yes, they are great.


The disturbing part is that I never really grew out of this. Recently I’ve been drinking alone, not because I’m unhappy (although…I mean…yeahhhh) but because I like to cradle a wine glass in my hand as I tremble, ever-so-slightly, twirling long strands of pearls around my fingers, weeping silent tears, streaking puffy cheeks with mascara, as I sip from my glass and wonder where I went wrong in my career now that I am an aging alcoholic starlet. I vary the storyline from time to time, becoming energetic, flirtatious, and underwear clad as I traipse around my apartment with fake eye lashes, splashing wine all over myself, pretending to be Edie Sedgwick. I have yet to graduate to amphetamines. It’s only a matter of time.


But these are not lies. I actually do these things. I also have most conversations with my sister pretending to be a black pimp, conversations with my brother pretending to be a soul-less slightly retarded sorority girl, and conversations with myself pretending to be perfectly sane. Clearly I am none of these things.


I have found that my behavior is increasingly erratic when I live alone. When I live alone I am nothing short of a complete and utter mess, literally and psychologically. Last night I skipped back and forth down my hallway several times around 2:00 am. I’d love to know why. I really would.


I’d also like to know why I find this:


Google search: “hot homeless guy”


So much more attractive than this:


Google search: “Male Strippers are Gay”

Any thoughts on the subject would be greatly appreciated.


The girl who still doesn’t understand how magnets work, despite her many attempts to find out

About thegirlwiththeblog

At any given time I can be found moisturizing my elbows and searching for words that rhyme with orange.

Posted on July 3, 2012, in Uncategorized and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. 24 Comments.

  1. another excellent entry! No answers at the moment, however.

  2. jasonbrianmerrill

    another excellent entry, glad to see you’re back at it 🙂

  3. hey good job. why aren’t my comments posting?

  4. jasonbrianmerrill

    oh wait, they did. lolz.

  5. another excellent entry, glad to see you’re back at it 🙂

  6. So that was a thing, right? Hmmm. Can I just say that I would love to live with you so that I could witness these things. Although, if I lived with you, you wouldn’t be living alone, in which case these things probably wouldn’t happen. Hmmmm. Catch-22.

    I have all the answers as to why you do these things, but I refuse to tell you. I’d rather you just kept doing it so that you will write about it and keep me entertained.

    I must say, Channing Tatum kinda looks retarded in the face. However, Matthew Bomer is HOT. I guess he actually is a gay stripper, so maybe that’s why you don’t like him.

    Meanwhile, I have been slaving over the same post for the last 10 days and I am still yet to finish it. I cannot believe you posted before me!!!

    • Can I just say that I still want to live with you?! If you let me move in with you (for free of course) I promise to be highly entertaining and only slightly inappropriate with you and your man. Just throwing that out there…

      Even if you had all the answers, which clearly you do, I must admit they would make zero impact on me. I will always be the freak, to side show proportions, you see (metaphorically) today.

      I don’t know who Matthew Bomer is. I know who Channing Tatum is because all the girls on Facebook keep talking about him and I don’t get it. Ever. But yeah, as a gay man, don’t you think male strippers all come off kind of gay? Or maybe that’s an offensive question. Hmm…

      And I’m so glad I inspired a post 🙂

  7. I am glad to hear that you have good parents – what a relief! 😉

  8. It worries me that you are ‘skipping’ down that hallway, however!

  9. We all have our own idiosyncrasies. Yours have surely entertained us today.

  10. The fact that i can literally picture you doing all these things kept me laughing uncontrollably the whole way through. Such a good descrption of your personality LOL… i hope people who don’t actually know you really believe you’re being truthful. Cause you are. Wow.

    sheet, babi gurl, why yo’ ass gotta be so dray-MA-tic all the time? SHEET

  11. I also enjoy how smekart is more concerned by your skipping down the hallway than by your obsession with being addicted to drugs…. lol

  12. littlewavesblog

    It’s okay, I usually find myself crying to the disney movies whilst with a glass of wine – maybe its just us females?

  1. Pingback: Pretending to Be a Drug Addicted Alcoholic Because I Live Alone and Have Nothing Better to Do « HelloMyHoney

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