#weekday drinking

[dailybehbeh]

Behbeh

[meiyk]

blog #1

Keine Ahnung warum, aber ich wollte jetzt anfangen einen Blog zu schreiben. Hab heute in der Uni gegooglet welche Seiten dafür am besten sind. Kamm Wix, Blogger und Tumblr. Hab mich hierfür entschieden weil mir der ganze Vibe von Tumblr am besten gefällt. Hab mal für 2 Tage ironisch einen Blog hier geführt und sonst noch vor dem Porn block Tumblr für Pornos benutzt. Nachher gehe ich noch mit L & S trinken in unserer go-to bar. In letzter Zeit trink ich zu viel Alkohol. Ich trink immer wieder ~4 Bier alle paar tage wenn ich und M uns nen 6xer kaufen. Immer wieder wenn ich alleine zuhause bin und Bier im Kühlschrank sehe trinke ich 1~2. Hab jetzt Montag und Dienstag nichts getrunken und habe immer wieder daran gedacht zu trinken, gestern hat M mir auch was angeboten und es hat ganz schön viel Willenskraft gekostet es abzulehnen. Hat auch durchfall gestern was nicht so cool war. Freue mich aber lowkey gleich zu trinken.

[thejewishphd]

Drink. Drank. Drunk.

[prideterminedoutloook]

10 shots on a weekday and my EARS ARE FUCKING RINGING

why you do this to meeeeee

[mariemonday]

Wow maybe that wine wasn't such a hot idea.

[orunitia]

I’m drunk and want to talk to ppl but everyone is weak and gone to bed. 

[arcanawrites]

Okay, so I’m telling you this mostly because I’m drunk right now. I know myself: I’m writing and reading this while I’m drunk on two separate occasions, both of them probably involving you somehow. I don’t have the cojones to tell you this while sober—god knows I overthink the shit out of everything; I overthink to the point where I don’t have the cojones to say anything worthwhile when I’m sober—but I don’t have some fucking willpower of steel or whatever to keep myself quiet much longer. I mean, I figure I’m going to be drunk when I tell you anyway, so I might as well prepare something to make this a little easier on myself.

If you’re about to say something, then let current drunk me very kindly ask you to please shut up. I think future drunk me is on a roll by now, so just let her go on for a while.

Okay. Okay, here goes. Okay. Okay, okay, okay. Okay. So. So, I’ve been wanting to kiss you for a while now. I would have done it spontaneously or something, like people seem to do, but I’m only 5’2” and you’re like 6 foot and even on tiptoes, dude, I’d need to forcibly yank your head down for your lips to meet mine and I think that kind of intensity would probably ruin whatever moment that could have been.

Oh fuck, current drunk me is listening to Juan Luis Guerra and on her fourth glass of wine. I’m blushing intensely now. Even writing this is making me blush. Fuck.

Look, getting to be closer to you has been one of the best parts of this otherwise dismal winter quarter. I was just starting to feel isolated, and having you reach out always, always made me smile. I’ve been scared to tell you how much your friendship has meant to me—I remember talking to you once about how hesitant you are to wear your heart on your sleeve, and I didn’t quite know how cool you would be with it if I decided to, like, not only wear my heart on my sleeve but straight up throw it at you—but I guess future drunk me has prematurely reached that point of no-going-back where she’s reading this to you, so there you go. To bring this full circle, I guess, my desire to kiss you has stemmed from how comfortable I’ve been feeling with you lately, from how much I like talking to you about stuff and how much I’ve liked feeling like you’re there for me and how of course I’m here for you if you want me to be.

But I’m going to call you out on something. I’ve come to terms with the fact that I’m getting closer to you (to the point where I even see you in a mildly romantic light), but I’m writing this because I don’t know what you want. I’m not expecting a letter from you or anything, but it’s just been starting to gnaw away at me lately. So I needed to tell you all of this in order to preface my big, confusing, wonderfully selfish question: what about me?

Current drunk me is trying to be cognizant of future drunk me’s feelings, so I’ll make this easy for you. You can kiss me, knowing I’ll kiss you back, or you can just shake your head. Just a head shake no or a gentle “No” (please make it clear, because I don’t know how lucid future drunk me is), and I’ll understand. I’ll walk out of here, wherever here is. I won’t text you first because let’s be real, I’ll be too busy trying to reconcile and figure out my own feelings for a while, but if you ever want to get to me, well… you have my phone number. And if you don’t, no worries. I want you around, but if you can’t do that, I get it.

Ooofas, wait. “Las Avispas” just came on, and current drunk me is in the mood to dance now… so I guess this letter ends here. Typical, right?

[m0thly-blog]

Soloing a huge bottle of Moscato straight from the bottle, I am a mess.