You might want to skip reading this. It will be nothing more than
a drunken pity party, an alcohol fueled whine fest, the drunken rantings of a loser whose fourth wife just left him, inebriated ramblings of a fool.
I dropped off Wifey and The Boy at the airport this morning. As of now, they are in Philadelphia, boarding their flight to Frankfurt, Germany. From there, they will board their final flight to UnnamedCityinEasternEurope.
We had a bit of a talk last night and this morning before we left the house. Nothing changed, but we did talk. We hadn’t done much of that in a while. At the airport, she was in tears, alternating between “Thank you” and “Please forgive me”.
One beer empty.
I waited until their flight had closed, and then returned home. Within a few miles of the airport, I took my ring off. Why keep wearing it? She’s gone. She made her choice. Painful for her or not, she decided that she couldn’t stay with me.
On the way, I picked up three 6-packs of Smirnoff Ice Green Apple. Why the fuck is this shit so hard to find? Walmart has stopped carrying it, as has the regional grocery chain. The only place I can still find it is at Food Lion.
Wally World and other places carry the original (barely palatable) and the weird flavors that taste worse than some of the chemicals that I worked with in the semiconductor manufacturing industry smelled. I’m serious. The Grape and Cherry Lime smell like solvents used in photolithography. Don’t get me started on Pineapple or any of the other “flavors”. Smirnoff Green Apple and Seagrams wine coolers are all I can stand to drink.
Yeah, I know that they are girly drinks. Fuck you. I hate alcohol, but occasionally, like today, I need to get drunk. I’m too much of a wimp to drink the hard stuff, and regular beer tastes like I would imagine horse piss to taste.
Second Smirnoff empty.
Anyway, after I brought the adult beverages home and put them in the refrigerator, I proceeded to the local Chinese buffet. The one where Wifey and I went after we said our “I do’s”. Honestly, I didn’t think about that part until just now. I like Chinese buffets, and the one near the airport that I absolutely loved is now out of business. This one is my second (now first) choice.
I ate until it hurt. Have I ever mentioned that I eat when something is bothering me? Well, today I ate. And ate. And ate some more. Then I came home and started drinking. You know the rest.
Back to Wifey. Yeah, this is a tribute to that particular colossal failure. My feelings are mixed. First the positives.
I no longer have to worry about providing for a wife and son. The only person I have to worry about now is me. And I can survive.
If I need to piss in the middle of the day (which is when I sleep – haven’t you been paying attention?) I don’t have to put on a robe before stumbling to the bathroom. If Roomie is out and about, it’s no big deal. She’s seen it before, and is not interested. And if she doesn’t like it, she can kiss my ass. Or move the fuck out. Or both.
Beer #3 done. Hey, I just noticed something. This shit is called “Green Apple Bite“. I don’t remember noticing the “bite” part before.
Hey, do y’all remember Restless Heart? I just finished listening to “Fast Movin’ Train”. At full volume. Good song.
Back to the good things about Wifey’s departure.
Now I can spend my money on myself instead of someone else. Who the hell am I trying to bullshit?!? I won’t spend it on myself. Hell, I seldom even shoot, despite enjoying it. I can’t afford to waste ammo on “fun”. TEOTWAWKI is coming, and I’m going to need all the ammo I have and then some. And so it goes with pretty much everything.
Hell, I was thinking about getting back in to flying when I thought that they had denied her visa a few months back, but decided not to “waste” the money on it. I’ve had my Private ticket since 1989, but haven’t been current since 2000. Prolly a wise decision, since the fucking assholes at the consulate were just yanking on her chain, trying for a reaction before finally issuing the visa.
Just checked the flight status. Wifey and The Boy are in the air somewhere over the Atlantic at the moment.
And George Strait rocks “Adalida”.
OK, to the regrets.
I regret that I didn’t get to take The Boy shooting more. We went once, and it ended very prematurely. Multiple rules were broken, and a bad day was had. And that’s all the details I’m going to share. To say the least, Wifey went from interested to terrified, which contributed to the lack of opportunities to return to the range.
Ice #4 empty.
I regret that our short time together couldn’t have been like our first several weeks. Before she got to thinking about her upcoming decision, life was good. We were happy together. I was happy. We had talks. We enjoyed each others’ company. We cuddled. We even had sex. Five times, anyway. And it was awesome. Most compatible, best lover, ever. Not that I have all that much experience. I don’t generally kiss and tell, but everyone has been warned, and nobody is really reading this anyway.
For the last six weeks, she was too preoccupied about her decision to enjoy anything. When we would sit together, her attention was robotic. She may as well have been a million miles away. That’s when I told her that I was giving her space to make her decision, and faded into the background, waiting for her to make the next move. Which she didn’t do until last Friday, when she told me that she had decided to go home.
Dammit, this keyboard isn’t working worth a shit. It keeps misspelling words. No way it is the operator. I ain’t drunk yet. Unfortunately.
#5 empty. “We Built This City” is a stupid song, but it has a nice beat.
I regret that I wasn’t able to talk her into moving The Boy into my room, allowing me to occupy she same room with her. This alone eliminated probably 90% of our intimate opportunities. Which really fucking sucks. Because she is awesome, and beautiful, and I was able to get the job done, which was a pleasant change from previous encounters.
Elton John might be queer as a three dollar bill, but dude has some serious pipes. Candle in the Wind playing now.
Did I mention that I am currently in serious violation of state law? Yeah. I have a gun in my possession, and I am under the influence of alcohol. Fuck ’em. I ain’t leaving the house, and I ain’t gonna finger it (I’m not completely stupid) unless some stupid fuck decides to invite themselves into my home. If that happens, may God make my aim true. I damn sure ain’t got the coordination to do it on my own.
Y’all have to check out Celtic Woman. This group of beautiful Irish women sing like angels. And they are absolutely gorgeous. O America now playing on Rythmbox. Yes, I play music when I find myself in a bad place. It helps.
Beer #6 (I think) empty. Going for a refill. My stomach is trying to stage a rebellion, but tough shit. I’m still conscious, so I’m still drinking. Even if I can’t type for shit. Bruce’s sax player is pretty good. Darlington County.
Back on point. I regret that I was unable to take her to the one place in America that she wanted to see. The Statute of Liberty. I had made reservations to stay at the Manhattan Club and had bought admission to the Statute, Empire State Building and a couple other NYC (fucking yankees, SPIT!) attractions for 08 March (International Womans Day, that is pretty much as big as Valentines Day in the former Soviet Union), but alas, she will not be here.
Since the money has already been spent, and is non-refundable, Roomie has agreed to accompany me so that the money won’t be completely wasted. I don’t want to go. I fucking HATE New York City, and I was just going because it was the one place that she said she would like to go. She’s not into travel like Roomie, but the SoL is the symbol of America to those from other countries, and she wanted to see it in person. Fucking shame she had to go home.
To hell with this. I haven’t been able think even remotely clearly for several beers. I’ll publish this and watch some videos or something. Hopefully, I’ll be back to normal in a day or so. As for tonight, I have more beer to drink.