Off the Record

go to thetruckey.blogspot.com

I found a television in the alley the other day and stood in front of it for 10 minutes before I decided it was in my best interest to take it, seeing as I don’t have a television. I didn’t expect it to work–it was old, dirty, and small. It was encased in a white plastic little box with a handle and two antennae. The switchbox on the back, giving you the option of “TV” or “game,” was still intact. It was surrounded by other televisions (boxed Zeniths) and electronic equipment (audio switchers and tape reels) and chairs and headboards, but I decided on this TV.

I wanted it only for the aesthetics–it was retro and would fit nicely with my Catholic school library naugahyde chairs and my  1940’s suitcases-turned-ottomans and the doorknobs decorating my walls.
I plugged it in and it worked. In black and white. With four stations.

So far I have viewed Sex in the City, King of Queens, Everybody Loves Raymond, Friends and Judge Judy. I love it.

But today, while learning how to cook with foil, the sound went out.

The shortest affair I’d ever had is over.

I don’t want to become one of those people who never has a drink again, but, after the past few weeks of binge drinking, I’m inclined to give it up forever. I’m six days in with no drinks, and, while I’ve certainly been out to bars and around people who are drinking, I haven’t craved alcohol since Saturday. Am I under a spell? Is it too hot to drink? Have I drunk too much in the past 3 years to be set for life?

What I can make of it is that I’m tired of experiencing the range of emotions one has when drinking. You go from a slight buzz (which brings with it an irresistable charm and rapid-fire discussion) to a tipsiness (which brings with it potential clumsiness and flirtatiousness and unmanageable desires to text message people you shouldn’t), then a close-to-drunken state (which brings with it forgetfulness, dizziness, and neediness) to a state where you’re unable to drive or operate, say, a back hoe or a sno-cone bottling machine. I RARELY make it to the last state because I hate the way it makes me feel both at the time of occurence and the “matin apres.”

But maybe those first few conditions have become, to me, as bad as the last condition, thus steering me away from any temptation I once had. Why not, I’ve been thinking, maintain one state of mind, emotionally, physically and intellectually, throughout one day? Why alter any inclinations you have just so you can “fit in” or “feel good” for a few moments?

Advantage #1: You’re the eternal DD. #2: You save a SHIT-ton of money. #3: You will never throw up (or feel like you should). #4: People will beg you to drink with them. #5: You may, ultimately, have a better time because your mood is stabilized and consistent. #6: You (most likely) won’t forget things the next day. #7: No headaches. #8: People will think you’re a prude.*

My energy is better, I’m not craving any sort of booze, and I’m getting more work done.
What the hell is wrong with me?!

*Wait. That last one should be on the “disadvantage” list.

I’m sorry I kissed your girlfriend.

I’m sorry I am not a good reporter.

I’m sorry I stole your blog idea.

I’m sorry I ditched you that night for what turned out to be a bad date.

I’m sorry I stole your friend.

I’m sorry I didn’t feel like riding my bike to U City.

I’m sorry this didn’t work out.

I’m sorry I sullied your name.

I’m sorry I told people what we did.

I’m sorry I don’t like your boyfriend.

I’m sorry I asked you not to taser me.

I’m sorry for leading you on.

I’m sorry I didn’t let you sleep.

I’m sorry for calling you so late that one time.

I’m sorry I made you pay me back for when your dog bit someone.

I’m sorry I talked too loud.

I’m sorry we couldn’t work things out.

I’m sorry I mixed up my days.

I’m sorry I hit your car.

I’m sorry I didn’t tip you well enough.

I’m sorry I made you fix my flat tire.

I’m sorry I didn’t try harder in your Media Research class my senior year.

I’m sorry I got lazy.

I’m sorry I didn’t try harder.

I’m sorry I tried too hard.

Grace Woodard. 

With regard to the economy/life in general:

He took off the guy’s side mirror.

Morning started with a flat tire.
After that, cleaned up pee left by a dog I’m dogsitting (not very well, apparently).
Followed by a slew of late buses.
And banana goo staining my shirt.
Arrived late to school, with the Head monitoring my class (bad start to the morning).
Then I dropped a pen
and said,
“This is the worst day ever.”
“Aww, Truckey!” a student consoled me.
She cared,
so I guess it wasn’t actually the worst day ever.

I had best not say anything bad about the bachelorette party, for fear that my soon-to-be-married friend would take offense. I also best not saying anything terribly wonderful about it either, for fear of being a hypocrite and someone who assumes too much from the start only to be proven wrong somewhere along the way.
So.
It was full of allusions to sex.
Champagne.
Grapes (lots of them).
Strawberries.
Games.
Driving.
Losing vehicles.
Escapes.
Tilapia.
Pasta specials.
Honks.
Martinis.
Bailey’s.
Sauvignon Blanc.
Demures.
Coconut Haze.
Dancing.
More Dancing.
Goofy photos.
Dancing with random men.
Lost wallets.
Sober driving.
Text messages.
Regrets.
Laughing.
Lewd Photos.
Dancing.

Twas the earliest Friday night I’ve had in a long while–1.30am crash time for me. Good time, good people, beautiful bride.