Gramma,
That mid-morning moment when you reach in the beverage fridge for a coke, crack it open and it's not the sweet taste you were looking for. It's a Coors. Can't drink all day if you don't start in the morning. Note to self: Always buy the silo beer cans, aka pounders, to prevent this.
Showing posts with label Alcoholism. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Alcoholism. Show all posts
Monday, June 20, 2016
Wednesday, June 1, 2016
Train Wreck
Bad Gramma,
Called my girlfriend and asked what she was doing. She's trying to find out online how long meth stays in your system. Her son and a dumbass friend of his decided to shoot meth up their asses using a turkey baster. You will get higher faster for longer, said Bevis to Butthead. More than a week has passed and she thinks he is a little off. Maybe there was a booster shot somewhere in there.
I laugh because this reminds me of the time I called the department of psychiatry at the U of M to ask how long it takes for a meth addict's pupils to undialate. My son had been in prison awhile and his pupils were still dialated. The other end of the line said, "We haven't had much opportunity to study that segment of society."
Girlfriend went to pick up the dog at her son's house, as he would be working late. The feds and the police had removed the front door in a most violent way and were tossing the sad little house. Girlfriend asks what the hell they are doing there. Someone held up a pipe and some weed. "You don't know your son is dealing meth?" She says he's not. They say they have found a bunch of needles. She says they were from his ex-wife who stopped by recently to visit the kids.
The ex-wife is a POS ho bag drug addict who deserted the kids and took off with one of her boyfriends for greener pastures. The kids think their dad is keeping their mother from them. She rarely shows up and always brings trouble. This time she said she was clean and was hoping to get the kids back. She is probably doing squeal for a deal on some charges she's facing and left the used needles for props.
The feds told girlfriend she should keep picking the kids up after school. She asks how they know she does that, They play back the details of her past week's activities, how she took the kids to Toy's R Us in the cities so they could pick out something for their birthdays. On Sunday, we were out riding bikes with club members. We stopped at the Dairy Queen. We are badass.
Girlfriend has two other son's, both with new babies. One son spent a night in jail last week for disorderly conduct at a bar. The other one is friends with Bevis, and they are often up to no good. The feds should follow Bevis around for awhile and they will find out who is dealing what and where. Bevis got a big inheritance, which is making some drug dealers pretty flush these days.
Most of these kids were raised in good homes, by good people, who set good examples. In a recent session with the school counselor, girlfriend's grandkids revealed that their dad is on drugs. Making memories. There is not much you can do here, but watch the train wreck.
Called my girlfriend and asked what she was doing. She's trying to find out online how long meth stays in your system. Her son and a dumbass friend of his decided to shoot meth up their asses using a turkey baster. You will get higher faster for longer, said Bevis to Butthead. More than a week has passed and she thinks he is a little off. Maybe there was a booster shot somewhere in there.
I laugh because this reminds me of the time I called the department of psychiatry at the U of M to ask how long it takes for a meth addict's pupils to undialate. My son had been in prison awhile and his pupils were still dialated. The other end of the line said, "We haven't had much opportunity to study that segment of society."
Girlfriend went to pick up the dog at her son's house, as he would be working late. The feds and the police had removed the front door in a most violent way and were tossing the sad little house. Girlfriend asks what the hell they are doing there. Someone held up a pipe and some weed. "You don't know your son is dealing meth?" She says he's not. They say they have found a bunch of needles. She says they were from his ex-wife who stopped by recently to visit the kids.
The ex-wife is a POS ho bag drug addict who deserted the kids and took off with one of her boyfriends for greener pastures. The kids think their dad is keeping their mother from them. She rarely shows up and always brings trouble. This time she said she was clean and was hoping to get the kids back. She is probably doing squeal for a deal on some charges she's facing and left the used needles for props.
The feds told girlfriend she should keep picking the kids up after school. She asks how they know she does that, They play back the details of her past week's activities, how she took the kids to Toy's R Us in the cities so they could pick out something for their birthdays. On Sunday, we were out riding bikes with club members. We stopped at the Dairy Queen. We are badass.
Girlfriend has two other son's, both with new babies. One son spent a night in jail last week for disorderly conduct at a bar. The other one is friends with Bevis, and they are often up to no good. The feds should follow Bevis around for awhile and they will find out who is dealing what and where. Bevis got a big inheritance, which is making some drug dealers pretty flush these days.
Most of these kids were raised in good homes, by good people, who set good examples. In a recent session with the school counselor, girlfriend's grandkids revealed that their dad is on drugs. Making memories. There is not much you can do here, but watch the train wreck.
Saturday, May 14, 2016
Family Tradition
Gramma.
The other day, Dave was behind an Uber car with "Whiskey" plates on it. The WU prefix is used for drunk plates. A friend of mine just got a DUI. She likes her Jamison and lots of it. Dave has it figured out that by the time you are done paying the ticket, attorney fees, higher insurance and the cost of mandatory classes, it comes out to a good ten-thousand dollars. That buys a lot of beer.
I will admit that I have done my share of drunk driving, but never got caught. Dave doesn't drink a whole lot, as it gives him a headache. I can drink a case of beer and not get a hangover. I like when I can be the designated drunk. Since I do not have a spare ten-thousand dollars, I like that my girlfriends have spare beds in case my alcohol content gets too high.
I love beer, especially craft beers. I like my beer so cold it's just starting to form ice crystals. I'm always looking to broaden my knowledge base on the subject. The first thing I do in a new locale is to ask for a local beer. I have made my own beer, but I drink it so fast that it really doesn't pay, unless you enjoy the process.
My drinking began in utero. One of my earliest memories is of watching the bubbles in my grandfather's beer glass rise to the top. It was mesmerizing to me. As I kid, I toured plenty of Wisconsin breweries with relatives. I was never denied samples.
I remember going to Drive-In movies with my dad. He always brought beer. If he didn't want me to drink it, he shouldn't have left it in the backseat. So I come by my habit honestly. Drinking was a family affair.
Wisconsin tradition is not dead. Not all that long ago, we were in a rural Wisconsin bar when some grade school boys showed up on a snowmobile. They handed a note to the bartender, who sent them home with a paper bag full of beer. Well then.
My brush with a DUI came after a night of drinking in small town Wisconsin. "Why aren't your headlights on?" asked the officer. The streetlights were bright enough that I hadn't noticed they were not on. "Get out of the car," commanded the big, burly woman. I painstakingly pulled crutches from the passenger seat and attempted to get out. I was pathetic, She told me to get back in the car and turn on my headlights. I slowly drove away. They weren't even my crutches.
This is my favorite childhood picture. I think it should be the photo for an ad promoting high achievement.
The other day, Dave was behind an Uber car with "Whiskey" plates on it. The WU prefix is used for drunk plates. A friend of mine just got a DUI. She likes her Jamison and lots of it. Dave has it figured out that by the time you are done paying the ticket, attorney fees, higher insurance and the cost of mandatory classes, it comes out to a good ten-thousand dollars. That buys a lot of beer.
I will admit that I have done my share of drunk driving, but never got caught. Dave doesn't drink a whole lot, as it gives him a headache. I can drink a case of beer and not get a hangover. I like when I can be the designated drunk. Since I do not have a spare ten-thousand dollars, I like that my girlfriends have spare beds in case my alcohol content gets too high.
I love beer, especially craft beers. I like my beer so cold it's just starting to form ice crystals. I'm always looking to broaden my knowledge base on the subject. The first thing I do in a new locale is to ask for a local beer. I have made my own beer, but I drink it so fast that it really doesn't pay, unless you enjoy the process.
My drinking began in utero. One of my earliest memories is of watching the bubbles in my grandfather's beer glass rise to the top. It was mesmerizing to me. As I kid, I toured plenty of Wisconsin breweries with relatives. I was never denied samples.
I remember going to Drive-In movies with my dad. He always brought beer. If he didn't want me to drink it, he shouldn't have left it in the backseat. So I come by my habit honestly. Drinking was a family affair.
Wisconsin tradition is not dead. Not all that long ago, we were in a rural Wisconsin bar when some grade school boys showed up on a snowmobile. They handed a note to the bartender, who sent them home with a paper bag full of beer. Well then.
My brush with a DUI came after a night of drinking in small town Wisconsin. "Why aren't your headlights on?" asked the officer. The streetlights were bright enough that I hadn't noticed they were not on. "Get out of the car," commanded the big, burly woman. I painstakingly pulled crutches from the passenger seat and attempted to get out. I was pathetic, She told me to get back in the car and turn on my headlights. I slowly drove away. They weren't even my crutches.
This is my favorite childhood picture. I think it should be the photo for an ad promoting high achievement.
Be All That You Can Be
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