10 February 2012

Black Fridays: Am I a Drunk OR an Alcoholic?!

Hi, I’m Madame Black, and I’m a/an…?

Heavy drinking is something that comes as a prerequisite to being me, even if I’m not getting the pay I deserve to be bruising and battering (mentally and physically) the fags of New York City. BUT how can we define what I am? What about all the commoners I must deal with during my waking hours of 10-4? Of course, those are night hours if your small brains couldn’t comprehend; who’s awake during the day anyway these days? A “Good morning!” is as common at 10pm these nites as a 12” dick is hitting you across the face at the HustlaBall.

Back to my favorite subject though, DRINKING… Well, abortions are actually my favorite subject, but we’ll pretend it’s drinking for this post. To me there are so many similarities when I think of the two words: DRUNK… ALCOHOLIC… One can easily get confused between the two. They both entail heavy consumption of liquor, an end in a blackout, and a person acting absolutely ridiculous, anger, out-of-control, or something of the mix, etc., yet no one ever hears someone at a party screaming, “I am sooooooo alcoholic!”. That said sad soul is howling, “I am sooooooo drunk!” instead, in the slurriest of slurs of course. Is this the defining moment of figuring out what I am? No, because I do no such premature behavior when drinking. When I think about it, I don’t have the usual behavior of most drinkers, or is that what I think? If I do have the usual behavior, I hope I’m definitely the girl in 1:10 and 1:56 in the video up there ^^^. She seems like someone I would talk to and befriend at a club, and I have billions of friends, so why can’t she?! I always manage to find a tranny chaser, so why can’t she?! That video is so spot on WRONG in so many ways! That is my type of non-goal oriented, a sad excuse of life, fun and amazing crowd!

My drink of choice is Vodka with a splash of Vodka on the rocks, and gurlllll can I guzzle those down! I’m sure I go thru a 750ml bottle of moonshine well vodka, out of a plastic bottle, on any given nite, yet I can’t recall the last time I laid over a toilet puking every last organ out of me as if my life depended on it. I have this feeling that alcoholics don’t puke, I also feel like alcoholics drink alone. The latter is not my case, I always have people around me when I drink – let it be with my fellow freaks at a club, over a delicious meal of human fetus sweetbreads with the family, or even with that dead twink lying next to my bed as I enjoy a bottle of Sutter Home White Zinfandel to myself. His body does still count for something, I guess… And they say Alcoholism is a disease. Bitch, where’s my pill then, so I can crush it and snort it.

So, I’m still unsure of what I am, but I’m going with the prior on this one, as I always like to say, “Drunks go to parties, Alcoholics go to meetings!”. What does that make you?!

Never sincere,


Madame Black

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