I used to be a Drunk Dialer, it is true. It is not a pretty fact, I know, nothing to be proud of or brag about. TO be honest, I am probably still a Drunk Dialer, but I no longer have a phone. Wait. That is not entirely true, and you know how I like to tell the truth, don't you? Well, I OWN a telephone, but I have the good sense to hide it from myself when I bring the bottle out. By the time my fingers are itching to make contact, tell a recently-remembered-amusement , ask you 'WHY!?' something-or-other somethinged, or I just want to wax lyrically on and on and on and on singing my many praises for my Helper, I can not locate the telephone. Where did I put it? I can't remember. If you are one of the three people who has tried to call me in the last three months and I didn't answer, this is the reason why. I was not screening my calls. Had I of known you were actually calling me, I would have pushed the keyboard (or razors, or microwave burrito, or Safeway cake, or road atlas) away from me and answered the phone in an amusing manner. Trust me, it would have been amusing, if not outright funny. I'm good that way. Unless it was YOU, in which case I would have tried to sound flat and pretend like I didn't know who it is when I answered the phone. For a minute, maybe less, before I began to act in an entertaining fashion.
I just can't help myself.
SO. I may no longer be able to be accurately labeled a Drunk Dialer, but I sure am a Drunk Emailer. Not that I am drunk all the time, mind you. This does not mean if you have received an email from me, I was drunk when I sent it. OH NO! Only if the email was sent sometime after 11 or 12 o'clock at night (a 2:30 in the morning email would be a good money bet for drunk-emailing behavior) and if the email contains many mis-spellings, and if there are numerous references to 'My Throat' or the spelling out of some irreverent number (Twenty-seven , fourteen hundred and three, NINE) instead of just typing the number like this: 27, 1403, 9 ... It would be better than even money that I had been hitting the sauce before hitting the SEND button.
The benefit, in my mind, to drunk emailing VS drunk dialing is that I can try to appear less drunk when I type. I may even , in my drunken condition, go against everything I stand for and actually attempt to proof my email and correct spelling errors - I KNOW! I KNOW! I would usually not stand for such Ninny Nancy behavior. Forgive me though - I had been drinking. Another advantage is being able to (with any luck) remember what I wanted to tell you when I began the email. Back in the days of the telephone, the phone would ring, ring, you may answer it, and then there I would be all 'Huh? Who is this? What do you want?!' And if I did realize it was *I* who called YOU , I would just go off on some tangent, being funny and charming as usual, eventually building up to some screaming fit where you are forced to hang up on me, and as I stand there in my shop alone, laughing, still holding the phone to my ear and eventually pull it away to point at it, imagining I am pointing at YOU with my other hand, LAUGHING UNTIL I AM CRYING, I realize I forgot to ever tell you what I wanted to tell you when I called you in the first place and I am forced to hit the redial button, wiping the tears off of my cheeks and trying to regain my speaking voice.
Are there more advantages to emailing?
I think so. There must be. OH YES! Sometimes, after composing a brilliant yet flawed email, I do have the option of NOT SENDING IT AT ALL (Which rarely occurs) and I let it sit stillborn in my email outbox, to possibly be discovered the next day, in which case I usually fairly glow with pride at not having sent the thing. I sure am smart when I'm drunk! I can't believe I didn't send that thing last night! I sure do have my shit together! YES, sometimes I edit and send. It hurts me to even think about editing. So wrong, so weak! Usually I do the 'Raw Thing' and send it out , flawed, unreadable, ranting and without order or direction. I do this when I am sober though, too. Just not at two in the morning.
What-EVER! Believe it or not, there are people out there WHO WISH they received emails from me, regardless of time or mental state from whence they were born. Precious little jewels, these. The emails I'm talking about here, not the people. Precious little jewels to be studied, examined, measured and sent to some special folder. Maybe the 'Restraining Order Evidence' folder. I don't know. My goal is to ultimately alienate EVERYONE I know, or even barely know. I'm doing pretty good so far! Not too many more to go! A lot of you have been pretty easy marks though. One or two of you I can't seem to shake. I don't know what I would ever have to do to actually, finally, REALLY alienate Edward. It will take a lot of work, so I'm saving him for last. I may have to resort to the telephone again, multiple calls at all hours of the night and morning. Calls from the police station, calls from the hospital, calls from various pay phones, hunched under tiny awnings in the dark and the rain outside of 24 hour convenience stores, pretending to be someone else. I don't think he would ever turn his ringer off, he is not constructed that way. What if there were a Situation up the street with MOTHER? HIS RINGER WILL ALWAYS BE TURNED ON. Know this about Edward: In the opera or ballet, out to dinner with Fancy People, in France, on a boat, in temple, whilst in the woods or SCUBA DIVING, his phone is TURNED ON and WITHIN EASY REACH. He does not lose his phone. This is important to know because when I really, and I mean REALLY hit the bottom, I am going to blow that fucker's phone RIGHT THE FUCK ON UP. I'll make him change his ring tone, or turn it down, or I'll die trying.
So, let's go have some fun now! I just thought you should know these things, they seemed important at the time, when I started typing them, about twenty-six minutes ago.
IT IS SUNDAY MORNING. Do the math.
My throat hurts.
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