Me, drunk, is something we could probably all do without seeing. But every once in a blue moon, I have a glass of wine too many and then that's what you get. I can deal.
Tonight, I have gone from smiling as I watch my 3 year old "fly" from couch to couch in my living room, his hooded towel providing the necessary "wings", to *literally* swooning over Adam Levine while watching "The Voice" on SABC 3 (I do believe we have found the replacement for Heath Ledger on my List*), to sitting here, pondering the ins and outs of my current mental state and how much of that is related to the amount of wine involved, to drafting blog posts in my head and wondering whether I might feel differently about how cool they'll sound if I wake up and read them again tomorrow...
For the better part of the past three years or so, I have held back from alcohol to a large extent, largely because I've been really busy being pregnant and/or breastfeeding, followed by a spell of just generally withholding myself from alcohol because 1) I just might have the very smallest of inclinations to want to have more and more and more and more and more and more and more and more and more and more, once I've started and 2) while it makes me really, really, really clever**, it also makes me sad. As in, when I've over indulged, I spend a good couple of days afterwards staring down that black dog in the corner and wondering how bad exactly it would be if I just let the fucking thing do whatever it wants.
Fuck. I knew I shouldn't have started this post after all the wine was finished.
This is the thing about being me on booze: Yes, it does all the normal stuff to me. I get sloppy and slurry and too friendly with people I normally wouldn't look at twice. Yes, I pee too much and talk lots of shit and, when the occasion calls for it, make a complete ass of myself. But I do it quite a bit faster than anyone else does. Because I have this wonderful metabolism that pretty much makes anything and everything work itself through my body at twice the speed it would through most others'.
I get pissed fast. And then I'm sober again in time to hate myself for all the stupid shit I've done *before* I've even had a chance to vomit on anyone's shoes and pass out...
If I didn't have so many children, I would more than likely drink a lot more wine a lot more often. But these things tend to make way for the fact that it's infinitely less painful to make breakfast and change nappies without the enormous headache, delicate stomach and shaky hands that one would otherwise have the time to sleep off.
* Ever watched Friends? You know the one where Ross and Rachel each have a "List" of celebrities they could sleep with? Yeah, that.
** Ever notice how much more clearly you seem to understand the world when you've got more wine in you? Yeah, that.
