Never Going Home

So Friday ROFL. For whatever reason I forgot to eat that day which is very unlike me. I went to Quincy with my gurlz Meg and Kerry to watch the Bruins win game 7, that was fantastic. I had no right drinking as fast as I did with 0 food in my stomach. After the game we did stumble over to IHOP but at this point it was too late and there was no turning this drunk mess around.

I dont remember much of the ride back to our neck of the woods to spend the rest of the night at our local watering hole The Cellar. Fine establishment. I do remember looking around and seeing about 50 faces I didnt know or really even care to know. While in the bathroom thinking my life was about to end if I didnt throw up there was some chick sitting on the sink with her dress pulled up around her face screaming about how the fat on her thighs should not be billowing out of her underwear. I have no fucking clue how I didnt lose it right then and there. Then she jumped off the sink and instantly started making out with a girl standing next to me and asked if I would like to join. I instantly fell for both of these ladies, but respectfully declined. After going potty I returned to the basement of hell and asked Meg to bring me home. I couldnt handle my surroundings and needed to GTFO. Without finishing my beer (another shocker) I started to head out. Trying very hard to get up the 3 stairs out of the building I took a fucking face plant onto the the cement. The most brutal pain shot through my foot at this moment, afraid to look but knowing I had to, took a peep at my bloody foot.

I remember getting home and seeing a trail of blood through my kitchen but I couldnt deal with it I needed to be in bed. Now I should tell you my Aunt and Uncle were visiting from Florida and staying in the bedroom next to mine. I live with 2 of my cousins both male, and their nieces stay over the house often (and this was one of those nights) Anyway I fell asleep in my 80 degree bedroom fully clothed. However I did wake up at noon the next day ass naked, no covers on me, with my door wide open and not a single person was home. Stumbling downstairs I found my bloody mess was still in the kitchen. I am wondering how long it will take 1 of the 6 family members in the house that morning to call me out on having a severe drinking problem. Somebody had to of seen my perfectly sculpted body that morning and are too impressed to say anything.

All in all it was a pretty typical Friday night.

Make Money

I am a fucking joke. My first job ever was delivering papers around town. I used to take the money the customers would leave outside for me and knock on the door and claim there was no money and without it I couldnt leave a paper. CHA CHING. That is when I realized I dont need to work hard for some cash. Few years after that I started working at Marshalls (you know the place you go to get a deal on clothing just to go home and find out the sleeves were put on your shirt backwards). I worked the home decorating section and would literally sit in the back for hours testing out pillows and eating jelly beans. I quit that job when I was scheduled to work with a woman who honest to god looked like a gay lion, with her big red curly haired fuck head. After that I hit the big time. I worked in a shoe store for a year or two before being promoted to Assistant Manager woooo! Not only was I able to stare at horrifc old people feet, I was now in charge of the money. Soon I started taking home shoes. We did an audit after about a year of me being manager and were out about $4,000.00. Once that happened I knew to get the fuck out of there. Anyway since then I have been working the STRANGEST jobs, most of them needing some sort of background in, which I just lied and said I had some. I worked in a bike shop fitting people to the right ride, I sold cars for a short time rambling about engines and sun roofs, I worked at a small accounting firm (that was hysterical) I even taught pre-school, until I realized how much most of the kids shit their own pants. Then I decided to really buckle down and create the biggest fib of them all on my resume. I decided I would start working as an Office Manager. With a little luck I landed a few office jobs here and there and bullshitting my way through them until I figured out what it was I needed to be doing.

So here I am today Office Manager of a construction company. I swear this place was made for me. I created my own hours, a brutal 10:30am - 2:30pm shift OUCH. I drink on the job in my windowless office, and spend most of the day hanging out with the mechanic in the warehouse. Only men work here so it is absolutely fine for me to show up wearing just about anything and as hungover as I please. I have developed an extensive list of offensive words to call women and people of different races other than my own. The mechanic has taught me how to do an oil change, replace a headlight, punch things until they go into place, change a tire, and to just keep trying different shit until the car runs. So I'm thinking if this place doesnt pan out for me I might go and try being a jet engine mechanic.

Point is people who run around in their teens and early 20's all stressed about money and where they will be in the next 10 years I want to yell a giant FUCK YOU in your face and let you know youre pissing me off. Slow the hell down and live a little. I am proud of everyone who dives into the journey of college, you will go somewhere in life I am sure of it, but do yourself a favor and get wasted, fall down, do a "walk of shame" or 20, kiss the fat ugly chick, get into trouble, wake up in a strange city. Why? Because its funny. You cant save this shit for later. Let your bank account run dry from spending too much at the bar, dont give yourself an age you have to be married by, and as for having kids, I personally shouldnt raise kids, but if you have the funds then its totally up to you when and with who you procreate with. Either wrap it up or dont.

Its Thursday and I will be absolutely shitfaced before 4pm.

Accidents Happen.

My mother was really into Disco and everything that came along with that era. She was moved to Massachusetts from Minnesota.  My father was really into nothing of importance, or anything legal for that matter. He was raised in North Carolina and then was moved to Massachusetts as well. I believe them meeting was the first accident the gods made. My mother was 31 when she was given the news and had been diagnosed with pregnancy. This horrific news sent her into a tail spin, not knowing when the next time she would be able to hit the clubs and tear it up with her peeps.

So there it is I, Amanda Nelson, the biggest accident of all, was born January 17, 1988 weighing 7 pounds 13 ounces and 21 inches long. Story goes my mom told everyone after I was born that I was 21 pounds 7 feet and 13 inches  because she is constantly in a dazed and confused kind of state (this went on for about a week until my grandmother smacked some sense into her no joke.)

  My parents decided to get married when I was 6 years old, oh joy. If you are wondering why, there was actually a very rational reason for doing so, getting insurance for our family was cheaper once they were married. I was in the damn wedding and hated every minute of it. Approximately 5 years later I helped my dad pick out and purchase a cheap ass engagement ring (which my mother lost and no longer has) we put the ring in the middle of some non stick frying pans that she wanted and wrapped it up for her for Christmas. I believe that same year I got underwear, pogs, and for my big present a gumball machine. Let me just get this out of the way and tell you I despise Christmas, I assume it is because I am still bitter for all the years I would go into school and hear about all the great shit everyone got. While I knew Santa was a hoax.

Growing up I was an asshole. I am still an asshole. I was vulgar and offensive as a child and am now as an adult. The only difference now is I drink, and I drink heavily. I get my love for booze from my father. I can’t tell you how many times I have seen that man wasted. During a vacation to the Cape one year my dear parents got into a bit of a fight while they were raging and consuming mass amounts of alcohol. The story ends with me and my mom driving home the next morning without my father, because he had stormed out that night and vanished into the darkness. When we arrived at home we found him face down on our back porch with his shoes off and swollen feet. Gripped in his stupid little stubby fingers was a citation from the police. According to the officer that gave it to him and let him walk his ass home; my father was crossing the Sagamore Bridge screaming that he was “walking back to Massachusetts”.  I personally was very impressed and knew then that my dad had heart and determination.  He had set the bar for me and had set it high, and I was up for the challenge.

For the past 8 years I have been partying to the best of my ability. I have had to sacrifice a lot to keep up with my obsession. Money, family, friends, body, dignity, etc. all have been hit hard, but this is a labor of love. It has really taken its toll on my mind and it is starting to get hard to remember all of my journeys through self medication. I will be using this mainly for myself to keep track of all the bullshit I will put myself through. I have no shame and will not hold anything back in my writings, enjoy.