Back away from the PBR, Ivy

Something happened last night. And I'm not going to blog it. Because I'm still mulling over the moral, or the point, or the message, or the hilarity, or whatever I can manage to extract from the events. So, no, you will not be getting a specific recount of what prompted my need to dedicate an entire entry to my greatest downfall- the drunk dial.

Actually, it wasn't so much a drunk dial as a drunk facebook chat. Technology is making it far too easy for me to drunkenly harass poor and unsuspecting people. Before it used to have to be I open my phone, scroll through my list, REALLY think over my decision, and then either wise up or wind up slurring, "But no one makes me feel the way you do!" But now, with the click of a button, I can expose mass audiences to my verbal vomit with such convenient ease!

What is it about a shot of tequila that makes my emotions go haywire? I recognize that I am always a hypersensitive, introspective, bratty son of a bitch...but while sober, I can mostly control it. But a few shots into the evening, and I start thinking, "You know who needs to hear from me right now? All of my exes. You know what they need to hear? How much I miss everything about them."

I have subjected myself to countless drunk dials, intoxicated e-mails, and now comes a new medium in which to exhibit my poise and intellect...the 3 in the morning, wasted facebook chat. The real kicker is that alcohol isn't even "liquid truth" for me, like so many people insist. It is liquid make shit up. I'm serious. If I am drunk around you, assume 80% of everything I'm saying is just bullshit. When I'm drunk, I suddenly care immensely about people and events that do not matter to me in day light. I find myself convinced that my ex boyfriend from high school was the one. I become positive that some guy I just barely dated was my last true chance at happiness.

Before you think I'm crazy, I would like to reiterate...when coherent, I know those things aren't true. I guess the biggest problem is I expect people to just write this off as a quirk about me. "Yeah, I know, I called you sobbing last night telling you that I love the way you hold me gently and kiss my forhead. But, no, really I'm sane...you can date me and not fear for your safety. Oh come on, I was drunk it doesn't count!"

But, OOPS IT COUNTS. It counts to everyone, and it freaks the shit out of them. But in my head, at the time, I'm thinking...4 am on a Thursday is an excellent time to tell a near stranger how I will always care for them. This is what will really make them want to be with me. Okay, I'm going to go to class now. But I won't be thinking about Virgil at all...instead I have made it my assignment to dissect why on EARTH I have made the drunken sobbing confession my primary means of communication in relationships.

I misss you sooo much, dont hnga up on me imm cryng!!!!1!one!!

Ivy