Her name is Malibu Barbie, by the way. Just so you know.
There are moments in my life when I need to go out and get drunk. The moments started in my teens, and generally coincide with PMS.
Initially, it came with ovulation, and was signalled by a sudden thirst for sugar, chocolate, and … other things. With time, the craving grew to include Baileys. It’s not so much of a jump, since Baileys is chocolate-flavoured alcohol. Lately though, my love of Baileys has reduced. It’s made with cream, which kills my lactose allergy. It still tastes really, really good though … if I can ignore the cramps that come after.
A friend suggested I try Malibu Rum, but schools are open and I’ll have to wait a bit. I thought I’d do some Googling instead, and noticed that the bottle isn’t nearly as pretty as Baileys.
Also, the fruit flavoured versions look juice-like, and the standard drink is clear. It smells like coconut, which might be good for camouflage, but somehow, I don’t see the kick in a drink that looks like water.
As opposed, of course, to a drink that looks like tea. Shut up.
I don’t think I’ll get that Malibu. I might settle for chocolate though. Sometimes a girl just needs a sugar high. That, and to sit in the dark with her eyes closed and her music loud.
♫ Bells of freedom ♫ Bon Jovi ♫
Cowboys don’t die. And if they die, they don’t rot. And if they rot, they don’t smell – Blondie
I wrote this post three times. Each time I wrote the first sentence, it sounded stupid, so I crossed it out and started again. This has never happened before.
I don’t find it hard to write. I start with a general idea and just type until it’s complete. Sometimes I edit, sometimes I don’t. Most times I fix the typos weeks after publishing. The only thing I’m anal about is Manga. The images have to be just right.
My aunt was the sweetest old lady on the planet. She was a little crazy, but then again, we all are. We call it the *insert-censored-family-name* gene, and we blame it for everything from tantrums and lousy directions to our ability to live out scripts straight from The Rung and the Yestless. If you can find someone with The Gene, they’ll tell you why I just typed what I just typed. Good luck with that, and pun fully intended.
Anyway, I thought she’d be around forever. She’s one of those people who was just always there. I can finally admit that her death triggered this last session with depression, though I didn’t realise it till just now. I have to bury my aunt this weekend, and I don’t [yet] have an iPhone, so I won’t be blogging for a while. I might leave some scheduled posts, now that I finally learnt how to do that.
There’s a wedding this weekend too, but not everyone can attend both. I guess we’ll suspend the tears for a while and cheer as he kisses the bride. Or maybe we’ll cry even more and pretend that we’re crying with joy.
Congratulations Otebo. I hope you’ll both be happy.
Rest in Peace Auntie Risper. I know that you’re resting where you are. I know that you’re looking down on us and smiling. I know that you’re happy that I’m fat, but I’ll soon be back to thin again. I’m just sorry that you won’t be here to yell about it.
Love always, Crys.