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my road back to alcoholism


I’ve got a lotta nerve coming here telling you about a cocktail. Because if you ever had the pleasure of meeting me in real life, the first couple of things you’d pick up before too late is A). you didn’t really find it a pleasure at all and, B). Uh-hum… I don’t drink. Wooh-oh wait, that’s not entirely accurate. More like, I don’t drink ANYMORE. (Gaaasspp~ AA!!) Pfffff, sorry no. I wish the story was that interesting. The thing is, I was no different than any rule-abiding youngsters out there who at the height of their kick-ass erra, drank for absolutely no apparent reason just to wake up with my neck flaccidly draping over the rim of any my toilet soiled in… well yeah (the number of shower I pulled off safely under this no-state of mind was pretty impressive in retrospect). Then at the first grasp of any level of consciousness to speak of, swore to lay off this demonic fluid for the rest of her life only to have the blur repeat itself the next Friday and, one morning… I actually did. For good.

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