Tag Archives: booze

On The Piss…Then Off

1 May


I shall survive! This MONSTER bout of general grossness from seemingly all walks of my life, up to (and including) my Birthday, is almost over.

…And now that I am finally coming out of this two week cycle of woe…like passing a really shitty kidney stone from hell…I can report that the world is not ending after all…while showered and shaved, dyed painted and plucked…sitting in some sunshine. 

…Sure, I’ve gained weight back…which is to be expected when you spend three days and nights on-end eating everything you can get your hands on, and getting pissed on every kind of fermented substance known to man.  But it’s over and done…I survived the bitch, and it’s time to collect myself, and hit the waves of “better things” now.

It all began on Saturday night.  This was when I closed the latest show with a particularly terrible performance, possibly due to the collective 4 hours of sleep I’d had in the past 24 hours leading up to it.  Or possibly not.  Maybe I just blew it full-turkey-out-the-ass all on my own.  I dunno.  But I’m never one to just roll over and let those kind of things just run off my back, whether it’s my actual fault or not.  This only put more fuel behind the next 12 or so hours of supreme hormonal meltdown, leading into my 34th birthday on Monday.

…It basically ended in a Nora Ephron comedic sketch of me blubbering to myself in between hot flashes, whilst refusing anything to do with celebrations by anyone with good intentions, and instead closeting myself away in pajamas, to watch nonstop film alone, on loop, and consider the travesties of my youth, with a bottle (or several) of booze…and how I’ve accomplished nothing I set out to, or will, and I might as well eat this pizza and get even fatter, cuz who cares?

I like to call it “Bridget Jonesing.”

…Add to that the fact I’m pretty sure I was (and am) peri-menopausing on top of it.

…Like an idiot, I did research online. This is ruinous for people like me, with anxiety issues that won’t sleep for weeks at a time cuz a zit on my elbow might actually be a cancerous growth I don’t know about yet, but am too scared to really check out.

…So I fester.

…Only lately, it’s been: “fester and sweat.”

…Now, don’t get me wrong, I have always been a clammy sweater. Its in the Latino DNA. Only for the past…oh…year or so, I’ve had these random night-sweats-from-hell that I try to pretend aren’t really there. Except when they wake me at 3 am because I have to strip every fucking thing I’m wearing due to the fact they are doused and soaking wet with sweat. It’s been really special…lemme tell you…

…And as my BD got closer, and I brought it up to Ma, she was all, “Well, yeah…I mean, me and two generations back all had hysterectomies by your age…so who KNOWS when menopause hits this side of the family?”


…And she said, “Well…maybe peri…”


…And she said, “Reasons.”

…So, needless to say, after a really shitty performance, in my really not best show, with streaks of white waiting to be dyed out of my temples, a bitchingly horrid period, and (apparently) peri-menopausal sweats, I decided to be terribly terribly depressed on the day of my birth.

I’m usually anxiety bound…so this was a new thing. It sucks too. Especially the involuntary bursting into tears bit. You know…the, “I should take a shower, but what’s the point, I’m fat anyway…my back hurts like I’ve been punched in the kidneys…I think I’ve bled so much I may have turned anemic and SUNOFABITCH it’s HOT IN HERE!”

…That kind of thing.

…Wrapped up in: ” All my LIFE I wanted to be EQUITY and pro, doing only theatre by age 35, and now its only one year away and I’ll never make it…or if I do, I’d only work like once every five years…there aren’t enough houses here to support it anymore…and I’m a coward…totally unlike The BFF who just opened her first solo company in freakin’ New Orleans last week…you know…cuz she SAID so…and also, no matter WHAT I do, these last ten pounds just won’t go away. It’s like my body is STARVING for the fat…to keep it warm and sweaty (apparently)…also my mood swings could basically be categorized as step-one bipolar disorder…if that’s even a thing…and I’m in my mid-thirties…and STILL struggling to pay bills and live life and figure out my head…and sometimes am maybe a little lonely…but never enough to deal with the shit that people have to deal with when they come in twos…”

…And also: “CHOCOLATE!”

…And, “Maybe I need some sex IMMEDIATELY, or at least more often…or maybe not ever again. But definitely salt. Like NOW!”

…And, “How DARE my mother call me menopausal! Peri or otherwise!!!’

{gentle sob}

…It’s been an interesting few weeks, to say the least. And by “interesting” I mean: “viciously feminine and horrifying.” And though the actual REAL heat outside is not helping my body’s imaginary already over-indulgence, the sunlight does. So I’m trying my best to use it as a guide…to get out in it and sweat more (on purpose) and hydrate like a sonofabitch…and try, try, try to find the humor hiding in all my personal little woes. It’s there. They are the original basis of Rom-Coms (minus the love story bit)…which is totally fine with me…cuz I obviously have enough shit to deal with right now without adding secondary subplots into the mess.

…And whatever all THAT means/achieves in outting crap for some better self mental-help: so be it. Consider it writ. You can now commence to make fun of me. Meanwhile…I’m packing up and going for a walk. Like a person.

Hurrah for me.



11 Jul


Played tug-o-war back and forth with a migraine across roughly half the day, most of which was spent trying not to puke across all my office reports. 

…My kit-bag of drugs and Pepto was depleted by Contractor early-morning-hangovers over the past two months, leaving me now with nothing at the office to battle with. Pissed that I didn’t have what I needed to get rid of the pain and pukeage when I needed it, I wrapped the day around 10:30, said a very decided, “fuck this shit, I’m going home” to the office in general, and did just that.

…About an hour or so later, the light stopped wigging my eyes, my temple stopped pounding, and I was on the couch, all nested up under a mountain of blankets (still fighting that body-shock-chill factor, acting as the migraine’s hangover), and entered Netflixia.

…Such a wonder of a place.

Mind-boggling options of subject matter, things that you love, things that you hate, things that you wouldn’t ever think of buying or renting, but when it’s “free,” then why the hell NOT imbibe?

…Today was mostly dedicated to Documentaries.  Ken Burn’s “Prohibition,” (tons of well researched history, awesome footage and the influence of War, Racketeering, Women’s Lib, Political and Religious factors), followed by “Park Avenue,” (TEA Party, food wars, the 1% of the 1% of the richest, the vastly growing demographic of poor, the dying middle class, Hedge Funds, Bank bailouts, tax cuts and more), followed by “That Guy Whose In That Thing” (a Marty recommendation featuring a small handful of those guys you know the face of who seem to be in everything, and what it is like to live the roller coaster life as a character actor in feast-or-famine Hollywood.)  From there, the dark side possessed me and for reasons I’ll never know, I selected, “The Pianist,” (shatters me), directly afterward attempting to counter-act the gaping face of horrified woe by following it up with “Who Framed Roger Rabbit” (a longtime fav, for oh so many reasons.)

…All these genres, and random worlds, contained within Netflixia…all waiting for their command performances by the swipe of my finger tip…all feeding my quirky little brain that thinks politics, booze, acting, religion, taxes, Nazis, the Warsaw ghetto, and 1940’s cartoon-enhanced detective stories naturally somehow go together.

…I can’t imagine what algorithm their software uses to compare and contrast my viewing habits in order to achieve it’s “recommended” list, but I’m pretty sure that today, I prob’ly broke it.

…So if the next time you log on, your recommended stream lineup says something like: “The Land Before Time,” “Where Your Fast Food Really Comes From: An Expose,” “Mary Kate and Ashley Do Paris,” “Superbad,” “Saw XXXV,” and “Rogers and Hammerstein’s Cinderella”…??

…That was my bad. 



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