Lordo, I haven’t been here in forever. Lemme ‘splain. No, wait. Lemme sum up. Drinky drinky, sick sick sick, hospital, loony bin, now under house arrest at my parents’ house till my outpatient program starts on July 11th, or whenever they finish fixing my broken bathroom, whatever comes first. That about do it? And seriously, I don’t mean to be glib about falling off the wagon again (AGAIN) but I am just…weary, I guess. Weary of talking about it. I’ll get into the events of the last month at some point, but not today. Why not today?
Because it’s Rex Manning Day? No.
Because it’s Phil Anselmo’s birthday? Let’s ask him. Phil, is it because it’s your birthday?
Is it because it’s MY birthday?
YES! Today I turn 34 again. What, that’s’ not going to fly with you? Very well. Today I turn 35. Thirty five. Thirrrrrrrty FIVE. Christ on a bike, I’m 35. That’s crazy talk. I can’t be 35, I still get carded for cigarettes. I still like toys. I still think “Dick in a Box” is one of the best things to grace the planet since they invented boneless Buffalo wings. I still eat like a 12 year old boy and I talk to my cats expecting them to respond. I can’t be 35. That’s like…being a grown-up. No, I certainly cannot be 35.
*stomps off, checks birth certificate, scowls*
Clearly this document was forged.
Anyway, I wanted to stop by and say hi, and tell you that I AM alive, I AM sober, I AM on new psych meds that seem to be helping with my anxiety/panic attacks, and I WILL be back with more ridiculousness vair soon. Probably tomorrow, to tell you about how my meds make me agonizingly hungry ALL THE TIME and how my mom thinks that somehow CELERY will stave off the screams from my belly begging for deep fried ANYTHING, including all three cats and my couch.
Okay, it hasn’t gotten THAT bad. YET.
But for now I’mma gonna watch Food Network and weep. Just kidding about that. I won’t weep, I’ll just eat this afghan here…Mmm, yarn-y!
Go out and get in some trouble today! The Birthday Girl COMMANDS IT.