New November Resolutions

“Raymond Chandler, drunk and depressed

Tennessee Williams, drunk and depressed

I think I’ll just get drunk and depressed.”

Jill Sobule, “Heroes”

SURGEON GENERAL’S WARNING: Take the following with a grain of really drunken salt. And also beware of toxic amounts of self-pity.

1. I will not consume another goddamn drop of alcohol in the month of November.

That’s it. I’m tired of feeling like shit and being totally goddamn broke. I am not drinking any more alcohol for a month.

I’m a manic-depressive drunk: I feel on top of the world when I’m starting to drink, but if ever I should stop, oh, whoa, look out. I’m a total fucking drag and I decide that well, if I feel like shit, then so shall everybody else.

I am not putting myself nor anyone else through that for at least the next month.

2. I will not define whether I am a good person or not by whether or not I can get laid.

Because I can’t, and I need to accept that. And I’m fucking tired of feeling like a terrible person because of it.

3. I shall not blame myself for not being the pick of what is clearly a meat market when I am decidedly not filet mignon.

I went out with some friends and we went to some bars and, oh, what a fucking surprise!, absolutely nobody was interested in me.

This should come as a total fucking shock to me because:

a) I was drunk and depressed.

b) Every girl there and 85% of the guys were hotter than me. A few of the guys were fugly, but all the girls were hot. Well, except the one who was dancing on the bar to Christina Aguilera. She was more wasted than I am.

c) Self-pity is not exactly a chick magnet.

d) I weigh at least double some of the girls I was hitting on.

e) I incessantly apologize for nothing when I’m drunk, which I realize is really obnoxious, but is a reflex I can’t control too well.

f) I don’t understand the concept of pacing myself. In anything.

I should not allow this to drive me totally insane when I know goddamn well what’s going to happen.

4. I’m going to fucking kill my landlord if he doesn’t turn up the goddamn heat.

It’s fifty-nine fucking degrees in here, according to the thermometer on my wall. ‘Nuff said.

5. I will not drag my friends into this bullshit anymore.

Especially Joel, who is my Golden God of the Month for November for helping me get home in one piece. And I guess October, too, since I never named a Golden God of the Month for October.

6. No more drunk blogging.

See entire rest of post.

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