Ohhhhhhhh. |
My grandfather was an alcoholic (but whose wasn't? I know, I know). Addiction is in my blood, supposedly, insofar as there are degrees of addiction susceptibility. So far, I've never been addicted to a substance, but I can see where it could happen, because I so easily develop addictions to things, to people. I'm totally addicted to The Sims. To television. I compulsively pick at my eyebrows and skin, which is why I have the worst pimples ever, right now. Alcohol is still relatively new to my life; I didn't drink at all till senior year of college, and I can still count my legitimate benders on one hand. Recently, though, we have a much more comfortable relationship, which honestly scares me a little. I keep a bottle of vanilla Smirnoff and a bottle of Peachtree schnapps on my bookshelf. No one else ever drinks from them, so every time their contents deplete a little, people notice, and I feel this weird defensive instinct. Last night, Hugh, Valerie and I went to a diner, and they both said they were getting mimosas, so I ordered one, too. Pomegranate. They both changed their minds when the server came to take their orders. Val then spent the rest of the evening teasing me about being the "table lush," all while stealing sips of my mimosa, which pissed me off and turned me into a drink babysitter, which only fueled her contentions. Ugh. * Still, with something like sex, I don't know what qualifies one as an "addict." Right after Justin and I stopped sleeping together, I started thinking about sex nonstop for hours at a time, sometimes. But I think that's just because I miss him. |