Monday, January 31, 2005
Displays Total Dedication to the Pursuit of Alcoholism
In case some of you didn't notice, right here in Atlanta we had some sort of meteorological burp on the radar over the weekend called an ice storm. My highly alarmist roommate urged me to go to the grocery store in preparation for the next coming of Jesus, and so I, along with 3/4 of the population of metro Atlanta, obediently headed over to Kroger to stock up on Hot Pockets and the like whilst pushing my cart to the lyrical stylings of one B. Spears. I must say, she adds a little extra zip to the normally rather mundane process of weeding out the cracked or otherwise subpar eggs from the more unspoiled few. Anyway, while at the grocery store I decided that if the impending hellfire or storm or whatever was going to confine me to my home with only Hot Pockets and eggs to sustain me was truly coming, I would also need several bottles of wine. Somehow the possible necessity of candles, flashlights, or batteries escaped me entirely.
Last night, after having been trapped in my little castle on the top of a steep and icy driveway completely frozen over like an impressively high grade Olympic luge, eating Hot Pockets and drinking wine for over 36 hours, I decided I wanted vodka. So in the interest of realizing this dream, I strapped on my moon boots, pulled on gloves, wrapped myself in a scarf, grabbed a plastic garbage bag and began the long, treacherous descent through the frozen ivy, clinging to shrubbery branches along the way, until I reached the no man's land just shy of my friend's car waiting in the safe flatness of the street at which point I sat on the garbage bag and sled the remaining yards to victory. And oh was that first sip victorious.
Last night, after having been trapped in my little castle on the top of a steep and icy driveway completely frozen over like an impressively high grade Olympic luge, eating Hot Pockets and drinking wine for over 36 hours, I decided I wanted vodka. So in the interest of realizing this dream, I strapped on my moon boots, pulled on gloves, wrapped myself in a scarf, grabbed a plastic garbage bag and began the long, treacherous descent through the frozen ivy, clinging to shrubbery branches along the way, until I reached the no man's land just shy of my friend's car waiting in the safe flatness of the street at which point I sat on the garbage bag and sled the remaining yards to victory. And oh was that first sip victorious.
