Saturday, April 15, 2017


Charlie, Red, Anthony, Ophelia and I gathered last night for "the first annual Drinking of the Titanic." We were planning MarioKart and karaoke.

Red, who normally has a high tolerance and a good sense of her limits, had a bad week and was planning on blowing off some steam. She slammed shots of apple whiskey and went from fine to puking her guts out and barely conscious in the blink of an eye. Anthony, Ophelia, and I rallied to make sure she was breathing ok and cleaned up the puke. Anthony carried her to their bathroom and stood handy outside while Ophelia got her into some clean borrowed pajamas. The three of us took turns holding her in a safe puking position then tucking her back into a chair between bouts.

That triggered a crisis with Charlie, who is newer to having more than a beer or two and has NOOOO idea of his limits yet. He felt hopeless and useless because he couldn't help Red so he was off slumped against a wall crying because every hopeless and useless feeling he has ever had was crashing down on him at once. So the rotation included soothing Charlie who felt that he was utterly unimportant and replaceable, and making sure Red didn't aspirate, and still had appropriate vital signs.

Good times :/

I am being far too open about my eating. I kept joking "It's ok, I ate lunch today" when everyone was laughing at how hard a small amount of alcohol was hitting me last night. We all crashed in the living room, though Charlie went home later during the night and Ophelia eventually went upstairs. Anthony and I stayed with Red to make sure someone was handy if needed. In the morning Anthony offered pancakes. "No thank you, I had lunch." "Ok, I'm making you pancakes." I did have one and some coffee because I felt like hell. I had my own mini spaz session after some discussion of childhood things (Anthony, Ophelia, and I have all spent time under the legal care of someone other than our parents) and had to step outside for some air. Ophelia followed me out and helped talk me down. That kind of dead hollow feeling followed me into the morning.

Today I am just feeling alone and empty. I wish we could meet up again tonight and do non-drinking things but I think that might be too much with Ophelia struggling with her own demons so much right now.

We are all grand hot messes.


  1. A couple years ago during Mum's first and last Christmas Rager, one of my friends drank waaaaaaaayyyyyyyy too much whisky and ended puking her guts out. In the litter box. True friends are the ones who will clean up your vomit and never mention the incident again. Y'all are good friends to have around. :)