Regaining consciousness

Now that my buzz has worn off, I can safely get this blogging started. I make a personal choice not to blog while intoxicated, since completely sober I sound like a torrential douche I’d rather not subject you to my uncontrollable thoughts. Speaking of judgment impaired states… I straggled into my place at the crack of dawn today after a night of drinking cheap beer and unencumbered dancing, consequential of the beer. I made it in bed before my curfew of 6am, which I self-imposed. Everyone needs limits, right? My stomach, as if taking it upon itself to act as a self-righteous alarm clock, awoke me at 2:30pm that same day. I am not one to deny my stomach food, so I stammered into the kitchen with my hood on and look of death shining through my mascara-smudged eyes. It wasn’t my proudest moment, but it certainly wasn’t my worst—and that’s what counts! Of course my nemesis, the host mother, was there to witness my vampire-like reaction to my first glimpse of daylight. She giggled like a little girl at the sight of me, chuckling, “Ohhhhh my, you look tired. Someone had a long night.” Yes, woman, I look tired because I am tired… Dumbass. I kept this thought to myself, though I’m sure my daggered glares conveyed plenty. I think the mother is afraid of me. But I wouldn’t have it any other way.