Sunday, November 12, 2006

ThePeach Falls Off The Wagon; Kills Nuns and Orphans

Oh holy jesus. This weekend has been a train-wreck. You know how proud I was of being the super-ex-gf and not doing anything ridiculous/slutty/dignity-stealing? Well, one month of hard work got blown to shit in a mere evening. It got blown to shit so hard that the air still smells of feces.

When I fall off the wagon, I do it with flair: Peach-style. Let’s re-cap my evening and see if we can pinpoint where things went wrong:

*warning to TheNurse: you are not going to like this post. Please don’t fly back here to slap me in the mouth. You’ll go broke and then how will you be able to afford to buy my x-mas presents? Please remember as you read this that I am wounded.

1. Went to a party thrown by Cock-Doc, one of FauxHawk’s friends. Yes, it was awkward. But he is banging my sister so I felt the need to wish him a happy birthday? There are social laws at work, here!!
Behaviour Rating: Acceptable

2. Got shit-bombed in a very short period of time.
Behaviour Rating: Totally understandable.

3. Left at 10pm so as to not run into FauxHawk.
Behaviour Rating: Wise and Excellent

4. Got home at 10pm, shit-bombed and sad. Decided I needed to take my hot ass out. Called an old friend.
Behaviour Rating: Social and Acceptable.

5. Went to the bar. Got fucking wrecked. WRECKED. Knocked several glasses onto the floor in my drunken rage. No one noticed. It was a dank bar.
Behaviour Rating: Totally Reasonable Considering

6. Talked to TheBartender. He gave me a free shot. I gave him my number. It seemed like a fair trade-off.
Behaviour Rating: Ballsy and Social. Well done.

7. Told the old friend I wanted to go touch some whores. We go to the skeezy strip club. I make us sit in perv row. I decline to get on stage, despite the fact that I am so drunk that I can hardly see the strippers’ track marks. I do not want the syph. An old man comes and sit beside me and starts touching my shoulder. We leave. (Me and the old friend, not me and the old man).
Behaviour Rating: Getting Sketch, but still making reasonable choices. Like not catching the Syph.

8. The old friend and I go back to my apartment. I am so drunk that I can hardly walk. He tells me I am hot. He jumps me. I figure “why the hell not?” and let him jump me a little.
Behaviour Rating: Perhaps a little premature and totally drunk, but Acceptable.

9. OH HOLY JESUS. Recall that the old friend is fucking MARRIED. MARRIED. Also, he has a BABY.
Behaviour Rating: BAD!!! BAD!!! ABORT!! ABORT!!!!! What the holy fuck, Peach?? You are NOT that desperate!! You are, however, a dirty dirty homewrecker. And a slut.

10. Start sobbing like a baby while the old friend tries to do me. I stop him. Or the bawling stops him. He misinterprets the bawling and tells me “don’t worry, I cheat on my wife all the time. I even slept with someone else 4 days before my wedding!”. Oh ya, that comforts me. I bawl harder, with an uncontrollable drunken sadness.
Behaviour Rating: Crying, Peach? Crying while making out with someone? Your worst nightmare has COME TRUE. Not only is he married but you are CRYING. This is a train-wreck, woman. The kind you can’t peel your eyes from. Two trains have crashed into each other and passengers are dying all over the place and you just can’t stop staring!!!

11. The old friend asks me what the fuck is wrong. I bawl out the words “I-I-I miss F-F-FauxHawk!!!”
Behaviour Rating: The two trains just exploded. All remaining survivors are slowly burning to the death.

12. The old friends asks me “so, you still want to screw?”. I say “no” and tell him to leave. He leaves. I am still sobbing.
Behaviour Rating: Redeeming? A glimmer or morality? No, but close.

13. Here’s a good idea: I am drunk beyond drunk. I am crying uncontrollably. It is ugly, ugly, ugly. It is 4am. Why don’t I just e-mail FauxHawk and tell him that I hate him for hurting me? In a drawn-out, drunk-girl, rambling insane email?
Behaviour Rating: A commercial airplane that was passing over-head just inexplicably crashed into the train wreck. The fucking plane just fell straight out of the sky and landed on the debris and dead passengers. Then the plane exploded and all of the passengers died. The passengers were orphans and nuns.

Like I said, when I fall off the wagon I do it with flair. A month of excellent post-breakup behaviour just got completely nullified in one explosion of a night. They should give out trophies for the worst-possible post-breakup behaviour to occur in a single night. I would win. They would name the contest after me.

I can never leave the house again. EVER. Except for when I steal away in the dead of night to move to Mexico. Go ahead and judge me – you should! But in my defense I was shit-bombed beyond words (and, apparently, thought) and my heart has recently been ripped out. I thought about whether or not to post this and decided to go for it. ThePeach is human. ThePeach makes poor, poor choices when drunk and heartbroken. ThePeach is a train-wreck that kills nuns and orphans.

I am no breakup super-hero. I am totally fucked.

Also, when I woke up the next day at 2pm and stumbled into my kitchen for advil, I walked face-first into the wall. I clocked my brain good. I may have attained a minor concussion. I cried.

Life is comically complicated.



asian cymbals said...

Oh my god, Peach.

Ohhhh my god.

Well first of all, get a grip!! It...wasn't that bad. Okay, it was pretty bad. But the worst part was emailing FauxHawk. The rest was okay, aside from the attempted rape by married old friend. That was also pretty horrific.

But if you were as shitfaced as you seemed to be, then old nasty friend totally tried to take advantage of your vulnerable and sex-deprived state to cheat on his wife again. Which just makes him disgusting, and maybe you should consider telling his wife on him. Because he's gross. And he pretty much committed emotional rape on you. And let's face it, if you didn't catch the syph from the strippers, you probably would have caught it from his cheating multivaginal penis.

And you need to GET A GRIP!! It was bad. You weren't good. But no nuns or orphans were actually harmed in the making of this blog post. Stop blaming yourself for everything. There's healthy responsibility, and then there's you. Don't make me come there and punch you in the mouth.

Okay, love you.


TOP said...

don't worry Peach, we've all been there. we've all had the post-break-up moments of near-death-pickled-liver-all-blood-replaced-by-sweet-sweet-vodka drunkenness when we've made such smooth moves as: chugging red wine then puking it up on a stranger's (white) carpet...a scary stranger who doesn't drink and then kicks you out of his potluck; collapsing on the street in tears and becoming the equivalent of a circus act, drawing crowds of hundreds to see the amazing mucous woman defy drowning in her own secretions; drinking and dialing...'nough said; bringing someone home (who may or not be in a position of some authority over us, and may or may not be involved in a relationship) and CRYING at how pathetic we've become while he attempts to get laid (seriously, these guys need to get a clue...if she's bawling, it's a pretty safe bet she's NOT so into it...unless that's some weird fetish i don't know about); waking up beside someone and having to ask "oh god, what did we do? no seriously, what specifically did we do? was it good?"; or WORST of all, SLEEPING WITH THE least you saved yourself that particular kick to the box that, while generally fun at the time, just re-opens every wound ever made and pours tobasco with lemon and salt into it. i think being on the plane with orphans and nuns (punishment enough in itself), crashing into a train wreck and burning slowly to death might honestly be take heart Peach! you may have fallen off the wagon, but no more so than generations of women before you and generations of women to come, and you managed to avoid the cardinal sin.

and when you wake up after one of these particularly productive nights with that OH-SHIT feeling gurling inside, just remember that once the puking and the spins slow down, it can all be drowned again in sweet sweet vodka and trampaging...

ok, so maybe we haven't all been there, and maybe i have a serious problem...but at least now you know that your train-wreck is not so out of the ordinary and very possibly not nearly as bad as you think.


The Diva said...

Ok Peach..
BREATHE! Old friend sounds like an absolute syph carrying slime ball. At least take some comfort in the fact that you didn't follow through with any of it...and my theory is..if it didn't didn't happen..and if it did happen and you regret it....blame it on the bottle.

The fact is...these are just minor glitches in the bumpy road of life and they can be wine and vomit on white carpet can be swiftly cleaned up by Spray N Wash (you're welcome TOP) . Non drinking strangers eventually direct their rage towards others...sometimes their roomates (seek therapy Rage Roid...THERAPY!)
And eventually the lying cheating bastard who you slept with will receive his karma and die a horrible death...well maybe not that.. but i'm sure he'll receive a chancre or two at some point during his lifetime.

Whatever the case...don't sweat's done've said what you were feeling and no one faults you for that.

Of course..when all else can always DRINK LIKE IT'S A POTLUCK! (love you TOP..but had to say it)

Great seeing you both this weekend. sorry it couldn't be longer. Miss you!

The Peach said...

*note* I did not sleep with, just made out, the creepy married friend.

Billy said...

I'm forced to question the continued use of the term "friend" for this creepy dude. No real friend would (attempt to) take advantage of a situation like that.

But that's just me.

Billy said...
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