It can always be worse

Just when you think you feel like a "fat ass" you stumble along a photo on the Internet that makes you not only smile but makes you so thankful that the "damage" you have to "control" is somewhat manageable.

One, let's give the girl credit for obviously not giving a shit. I admire those who can sincerely not give a shit or at least be drunk and not give a shit. That's real freedom!

Two, I'm sure this started out as a very nice club ensemble. I think I said that right. Don't we all look so hot before we go out? Make up perfect, kick ass shoes, dressed to show what we've got and hide what we don't want to see. Then comes the alcohol , the "nudie juice" and we lose all common sense. The only small blessing is that if you get drunk enough you don't even have to remember what you said or did until an asshole friend so kindly reminds you that you puked somewhere and told a coworker that you loved them in a not so appropritae way while there girlfriend was standing right next to them, Oooppppss.

I used to be a party girl. Remember the comedy"absolutly fabulous"? I always thought that would be me and my drunk friend as we got older. Not having the sense or will to stop our merriment ways and such. Looking back, I had a dandy riot and I miss those times, even when I was a drunk fallout girl. I was always worth more than a laugh and always ended up being a liability to someone at the end of the night.

www.youtube.com/watch?v=_yjdTo6JT8U8

Not only did I look like Patsy at one point Riitta, my friend looked like Eddy......not as bad though.

Our common modus operendi was to ditch work early, we were graphic artist with all the liberties that artists are given.Usually the initial discussion about the evening would start out at our liquor lunch. We would get back to our drawing boards, fuck around abit , get bored and decide to go to the fabric store to buy fabric a pattern and a 1/5th of rum. We get to one of our homes start drinking and sewing, end up with an amazing outfit....so we thought....and go out the bars and drink,laugh,drink,laugh,drink,laugh and of corse dance. I wasn't ever really into picking anyone up even when I was single. i just love to dance.....don't even care if I am the only one out there. When I was out there by myself i consoled myself with the idea that maybe I was so amazing noone felt comfortable in my aura of fabulousness when more than likely they were sitting there saying " Holy shit, look at that drunk bitch GO".

Who cares, I still don't when it comes to dancing, it's a miracle if I get out and I am somewhere where there is even a good tune to dance to. I owe all my mad groovin skills to American Bandstand and Soul Train.

Three, this drunk girl is still capable of not only being able to read but she can also follow directions. I wasn't very capable of that when I was drinking. It's a real pain in the ass to read when you are seeing quadruple and fuck directions.....no one was going to tell me what to do. yet, I never went to jail, I always thought I would just offer the officer "head" and be on my way. I never went to the ER from a drunken mishap, I just healed my various wounds at home. I have fallen many times and of course blamed whoever I was with, hell, I wasn't above or below blaming the crack in the sidewalk.

Oh for "youthful indiscretions", as my friend Scott says....there is no such thing. We are no where discreet in our youth, nor do we care. I long for those days when I changed men like my underwear, never made excuses for myself, getting drunk was an awesome pastime with minimal complication and retributions, make up was an art form and there was no problem with being violently sexy.

What the hell Happened to me......is this what marriage ends up doing to you? you settle into a mediocre routine, your spouse "starts to think your a part of the furniture" and you slowly diminish your light until you are just a spark, a tiny firefly light, just enough to remind you that you still have something left. What really is the value of a mature life? Does it all end up to be your dead body in a casket with people all around mumbling out whatever they can remember about you? The slow warm nods of people using benign words like"she was such a good person"? Ohhhh nooooo.....I want to die and when people are at my funeral I want each one of you to be snickering with some delicious evil rememberance of something I said or did that was so dead wrong it was right.I want stories to fly around the room of my deviant tales and escapades. I want all my old lovers to smile knowing that I loved them with all my soul had to give. I want to be missed as a person who pushed all the boundries of her little box outward until there were no sides left, no botton or top to the box, just wild wide open space. so expanded that I was everything and nothing in the breath of God. Yeah.....that sounds better than where I am now. I need to find my way back to my sexy spark, get some kindling wood, some big ass logs and let this bitch burn and blaze bright.