jeudi, février 24, 2005

Drunk Post

So, I'm cooking drunk tonight. Correction- I am CUTTING drunk tonight. Yes, I am cutting various vegetables with a very large knife while intoxicated. I highly recommend it. (Seriously, every time I drink- which is rarely- I feel it like a calling- a vocation. I am drawn to it. Would love to make this feeling my life's work. Is that so wrong?) Emmylou Harris sings Thanks to You (Cowgirl's Prayer, in case you were wondering) while my buzz improves everything I do. I've told you a trillion times that food is love. And it is. People fall into one or more of three categories: auditory, visual and/ or kinesthetic. I am cursed, probably, with all three. Kinesthetic gets taken care of with food. And that's sad, really. (And I'm drunk, really.)

But, to my main point tonight: alcohol. I was asked recently if I'd ever found out how much I could drink. And I was wondering if "how much" referred to the point where you vomit and/ or get the spins or pass out, etc. I didn't ask. So I don't know. Maybe someday... But everytime I get loopy, I wonder why I'm not an alcoholic. Because it's fun to be loopy. And more importantly, I calm down. My cousin, the doctor, tells me that this (and the fact that I feel much improved by cold medicine) may be an indication that I have adult attention defficiency disorder. (If that's misspelled, I would like to remind you that I'm drunk and isn't appealing to my lulu brain.) I'm not going to take medication for that, even if I've got it, but I will admit to being too tightly wound. And I'm trying to fix that. (And, if you must know, food doesn't help. God bless my metabolism. Just thought that was an appropriate thought to add, because food gets used more often than not.) So, exercise, perhaps? Meditation, maybe?

Alcohol works, too.

5 commentaires:

  1. Knives and alcohol don't play well together in my world. Just ask my scarred left pointer finger. I drink, but haven't been drunk in years. A few years of too much college fun quickly teaches you that you really don't want to know how much you can drink.

  2. I wouldn't go near a cutting board with a ten foot carrot if I was drunk. But then I'm so rarely drunk... *sigh* No wonder my cooking is so bad. :(

  3. Drinking, drunking, potato, potahhhto...

  4. "How much" for me is when I wake up in Villahermosa wearing water wings, a wife beater, a grass skirt and one flipflop, clutching a lunchbox full of Carter campaign pins, with the word "CHOWDER" scrawled across my aching forehead. I've never been that drunk, but if this ever happens, that'll be "how much" for me. For sure.

    Have fun cooking.

  5. Dabu just made some spaghertti with "special sauce". *hips* : )

    It was like doing pasta shots. hehe. I have to have dinner down here more often...