Breaking Up And Binge-Drinking: More Games For Your Solo Cup

(Yes, my relationship is over but my love affair with alcohol will never die. Remember: people come and go but liver damage is forever.)

This September, Alessandro and I celebrated our four-year anniversary. We met on campus in my sophomore year of college and moved in together after a little over a year as we continued our education together. Things were good. It was easy. Considering my love of dysfunction, I should’ve realized something wasn’t quite right.

Make no mistake, in this story I am the bad guy. We met just as I ended my first relationship and I hopped into this one without really giving myself time to think or grieve or remember to go to class. Sure, I loved him, but not enough to imagine a future together or to not feel the need to talk to other guys. (I KNOW I’M THE  WORST, SHUT UP ABOUT IT.) Anyways, recently we started to see we didn’t have enough money to keep living in our apartment together so we both moved back in with our parents and decided to call it quits.

It’s weird being alone after 7 years of boyfriends. I still have my friends but sometimes you just wanna tell someone that you found a really long nose hair or saw a bumper sticker that said “I brake for wet leaves”, and you go to pick up your phone to send the news but you realize nobody except your significant other would even care, and suddenly you’re like,

“Shit… I really am alone.”

Then you start to ask yourself what you used to do before you had someone to chill with 24/7 and your mind becomes that scene from SpongeBob Squarepants where he’s trying to remember his name.

All you know is fine dining and breathing. (And in my case, drinking.)

With that in mind, I’ve developed a few more drinking games you can play by yourself because who’s about to stop you? Certainly not your significant other because you’re alone and no one loves you.

Drinking Games to Play Alone:

1. Download Tinder. Take a drink every time you swipe right, chug if it’s a match.
2. Go through your phone, Facebook, picture library, etc. and drink whenever you delete a picture of your ex. (Because that’s how you win. At drinking AND at life.)
3. Make a list of all your past lovers/significant others/crushes and text ALL OF THEM. Drink if they text you back. Chug if they hit you up for a booty call.
4. This one’s obvious and possibly overused but open Chat Roulette, Omegle, whatever else they have now and shuffle through the people. Drink whenever you see a penis.
5. Solo Beer Pong: All you need for this is a table, a wall, cups, and ping pong balls. Put the table against the wall and arrange cups in front of you the way you normally would in beer pong but only your side. Use the table and the wall to bounce the balls into your own cups. Drink when you make the shot, etc. (normal rules apply).
6. Turn on one of your favorite (or least favorite) movies or tv shows. Make your own drinking game!! (It’s fun.) For example, I used to make drinking games for the Presidential debates but I was too good at them and I almost got alcohol poisoning so I stopped. (I’m actually thinking about making a whole series of drinking games for movies and tv shows to put on this blog so if you have any requests, leave them in the comments below.)
7. Put your playlist on shuffle. Try for mostly love songs. Drink every time you cry. (This also works for sad movies and looking through the aforementioned pictures of your ex as well.)

Well, that’s all I have for now. If you want more, refer to my last post about drinking games to play alone. It’s a decent read. If you have any ideas you’d like to share, feel free to leave them in the comments below. And remember: you’re never alone when there’s booze and twitter.

I Haven’t Showered For A Week Because My Dedication Knows No Bounds

(Yeah, that’s right.  I’m being honest.  Gross, but honest.  Because the truth will set you free.  Free from hygiene and other human beings, perhaps.  Yet sometimes we must get ugly to create something beautiful.)

I gotta say, though, chilling in my own filth isn’t too bad.  It gives me an excuse not to run errands or hang out with my friends and Alessandro hasn’t bothered me for sex while I’m trying to write.  Also, I don’t even smell.  You’re probably thinking, “Yeah right, Alanna.  You probably stink like shit but can’t smell yourself because you’re gross and noseblind.”  But then again….. Idgaf.

yolo.

The reason I haven’t showered (in case you were wondering) is that I’ve been busy with very important things like banging my head against available walls until words come out, reading a part of my novel in front of other human beings (!), and attempting (unsuccessfully) to take videos of cats having sex outside at night.

(“Kitty Porn”, perhaps.  But the videos are just of blackness and me drunk and laughing in the background which is probably for the best.)

In other news, I had to actually read the words that I wrote out loud and IN FRONT OF ACTUAL PEOPLE.  I opened for Jon Sealy, author of The Whiskey Baron, at my college last month.  In a huge auditorium with about 30 billion people.  (Or like 30.  I’m not Rain Man, with all the counting and stuff.  I was just trying not to throw up.)

I don’t have many pictures, but here’s one I can share with you.  It’s a screenshot from a video my mom took with her phone that neither of us can figure out how to move onto a computer or even Facebook.

I’m wearing all black because I assumed it’d be a “90’s coffee shop” setting with a guy playing bongos and berets as far as the eye can see.

My piece was incredibly dark and personal because I didn’t know the protocol for reading in public and had no idea so many people would be there (including other students who got front row seats to my crazy).  In the video, you can hear my mom gasping when I swear or say terrible things about self-harm or alcoholism, which is funny but also quite upsetting, and my voice is ridiculous.

They need to develop the technology to make you sound like Patrick Stewart ASAP.  (Meanwhile, NASA is having Scott Kelly take instagram pics of space.  Priorities, people…)

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Speaking of priorities and instagram, here is the latest installment of “The Chronicles of Diane Kitten“.  Truly, there is nothing she can’t do.

So well-read and freshly-bathed.  An inspiration to all.

Apologies for the nonsense post, I wrote this at like 3am and am in desperate need of a shower.  Goodbye for now, amigos!  Have a fantastic day and may all your books be wonderful!!!

Feel free to tell a story about the longest you’ve gone without bathing or what you’re reading at the moment.  Perhaps your feelings on gun control or Patrick Stewart?  I wanna hear it alllllllll… <3

Sylvia Plath Is A Buzz-Kill

(Also, I’m losing my mind. Somebody get me a cocktail or I might take a bunch of pills and hide in a hole in my basement. Because apparently that’s what great literature is all about.)

I recently finished The Bell Jar and although it’s an awesome book, you probably shouldn’t read it if you’re emotionally unstable. Nobody told me this so I’m telling you all.

I think I’m going crazy.

Granted, I’ve been there before, but I was totally handling my shit and feeling fine. Now I’m too scared to leave my apartment and paranoid about the government watching our every move.

(Klonopin can only go so far.)

So thanks a bunch, Sylvia. You’ve made me question my sanity and increase my vodka consumption. I hope you’re happy.

(NOTE: Ovens are for cookies and chicken breasts, not human heads. Just in case anyone was wondering.)

“Listen Here You Beautiful Bitch, I’m About To F*ck You Up With Some Truth”: Reasons Why Kenny Powers Is My Hero.

(A complex man with complex thoughts and a sage-like wisdom, Kenneth Powers provides laughter to all and guidance to many.)

If you haven’t already seen one of the greatest television programs known to man, a.k.a. “Eastbound & Down“, you should stop what you’re doing immediately and run to your nearest HBO provider.

…I’ll wait.

For those of you who don’t know the story, it’s about a dude who became a huge baseball star after high school and then pissed his success away with drugs, ladies, and alcohol. “Several shitty years later”, he returns to his hometown, down on his luck.

“But a true champion, face to face in his darkest hour will do whatever it takes to rise above. A man fights, fights, and fights some more. Because surrender is death, and death is for pussies. And my ass ain’t no pussy. My ass is a fucking champion.“

Through his life and his audio book, Kenny Powers shows us how to live…

1. Confidence is key.

“Undaunted, I knew the game was mine to win. Just like in life, all of my successes depend on me. I’m the man who has the ball; I’m the man who can throw it faster than fuck. So, that is why I’m better than everyone in the world. Kiss my ass and suck my dick, everyone.”

2. Race is just a label.

“Honestly, I can’t even believe that you would look at me and the word ‘gringo’ would even come to mind. Does it make your life easier just to throw a quick racist term at somebody? A man who has seen the things I have seen, experienced the loss and pain that I’ve experienced. I transcend race, hombre.”

3. Work hard, play harder.

“I’m about to have a fuckin’ panic attack. I need four Xanax and two Miller Lights.”

4. The Yukon Denali XL is man’s greatest vehicular achievement.

“I got the glory. I get the fame, the money, the jewels, the cash, the Denali. Getting drunk on the reg, fucking good times on the reg, yachts on the reg, sex on the reg. Basically, all the shit that most men fantasize about.”

(Also, it’s my dream car. If this writing thing ever goes anywhere, I’m getting one.)

5. Take a break from technology and live your life.

Because you don’t need to have your headphones in ALL the time. We can hear your music and it’s very distracting.

6. Making money is important.

“The amount of money I’m gonna be making would hurt your parents feelings. You remember the class where I taught you all how to make it rain? That’s what I’m going to be doing every, single night. Dollar, dollar bills, y’all.”

7. You don’t have to be a Crossfit/P90x/gym-rat.

(I think this is even a meme now.)

8. Examine your weaknesses as well as your strengths.

“In Mexico, a man can truly get lost. And, if you’re a bank robber, or maybe someone who’s committed a fucked up, crazy crime, then that’s a good thing. But hiding takes it’s toll. At first you don’t realize it but, soon the identity that you tried to shed starts getting pissed and knocking at your insides. You know, when dealing with deep depression and sad shit, it’s cool to pretend like nothing is wrong. That, sometimes, works. But, eventually, you got to call a goddamn spade a spade and be like , ‘Yo, I’m fucked up and I got to make a change.'”

9. People will be dicks, but you don’t have to like everybody.

“You don’t like me? Well you’re the one with a fucking disability. It should be me not liking you, and yet I accept you. And you do this to me? Man, fuck you, you midget. I’m taking the fucking cocks.”

10. Things eventually get better.

“Chapter 10: Making the world your bitch. Once again, I’m with the hottest chick in town, buying the most expensive fashions, dining in the fanciest food places, riding around on goddam jet-skis, raining trim, hallucinogens, jet-skis again, throwing heat and getting laid. Did this tale end the way I thought it would? Probably not. But as long as I win, who gives a shit?”

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There you have it. The wisdom of Kenny Powers. All of us could stand to take a lesson from this great man.

“So in closing, I’d like to give big ups to God, Buddha, L. Ron, whoever. Hell, maybe I just need to thank me. If there’s one thing I’ve learned through all my adventures and conquests is that some people are just wired for success. I had no choice when it came to being great. I just am great. I’m not trying to sound cocky, or full of myself. But, Kenny Powers has a sneaking suspicion that no matter what comes his way, he will always be great. Because that’s just the way shit works sometimes.”

Is That “Where’s The Beef?” Lady Still Alive? Because We Can Tell Her To Stop Looking.

(I’ve found the beef. It’s all around me. I could grill burgers with everyone I know.)

But oh wait, I can’t…

BECAUSE I HAVE BEEF WITH LIKE ALL OF THEM.

Yessirree, my lucky streak with making friends is alive and well. Everywhere I go people break up, get into fights, and are covered in boils.

(But that’s not because of me. It’s because God hates me and sends the Plagues of Egypt to my life.)

(Make sure to paint your doorframe in sheep’s blood.)

I totally went back on the whole “Machiavellian” thing and trusted people I should not have. Once again, I attempted to bring people together and it ended in madness.

At least I know I don’t have a career in matchmaking.

Also, why do I surround myself with men who like to fight one another? I mean, can’t they just be like women? Say passive-aggressive insults to each other and talk shit behind their backs? It’s much easier and it doesn’t involve me LOSING MY GODDAMN MIND!!!!!!!!

I may not have a lot of closely-held principles, but I do live by one rule: if you hurt someone I love, you’re dead to me.

So am I going to forgive these people? ….

I still don’t visit the imaginary grave of a kid who called my best friend “Harry Potter” in the first grade, just because she had a bowl cut and round glasses. I saw this kid’s ghost all the way through high school and never acknowledged it.

Even when I bumped into it in the hallway, knocking his ghost-books all over the place.

(Why a ghost needs books, I’ll never know, but it must be a common thing considering my books are always scattered all around my attic. Where the ghosts live.)

Regardless, I’m really beginning to think no one should hang around me EVER. It’s not good for anyone. I’m like a human sitcom except it’s not all that funny.

But people are just lucky I don’t seek revenge and everything is illegal because of the feminization of our society. I can’t even be like, “TRY THAT SHIT AGAIN AND SEE WHAT HAPPENS.” Cause bitches be bitches and they’d go tell on me. So I’m just gonna have to stew in my anger and chill in my house all like this:

I blame Nixon.