Well, they say knowing history is the key to not repeating it. It’s looking like that needs to be amended to knowing history gives you an idea of the splatter mark you’re about to leave when the train you see coming a mile away is approaching the part of the tracks you’re tied to, but are otherwise powerless to do anything other than sound dramatic to people tied next to you who insist that surely the train will stop in time…
…actually nevermind. It’ll stop us from repeating it, totally for realsies. *gets shit-faced drunk*
It’s a really unpleasant feeling, isn’t it? Being Cassandra is the suck.
It’s astonishing and demoralizing how many people I respected don’t know history. A good chunk of them tell you there is no train even though they have to shout to be heard over the horn.
I managed to quit drinking this summer after a hospital detox. Now I’m stuck raw dogging reality.
Raw dogging it sucks. I got sober years ago, but I had a couple bad relapses. Now I’m at a point where I can get drunk once or twice a week without it taking over my life. Not everyone can do this though so be careful.
I can’t get drunk when I have to work the next day. I don’t know how I used to do it every day. The hangovers are fucking brutal.
I take a gummy and a variable amount of ibuprofen every night with dinner. Helps some with sleep and pain.
My hangover crutch was modafanil. However, I may just have to be done drinking. Sucks, but it was destroying my life. I’m much healthier. I miss bourbon and the brain numbing fog like great sex with a crazy lover.
Brown shirts?
Brown Shirts = Nazis
Thank you. I hadn’t heard that expression before.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sturmabteilung
Modern day, it’s usually referring to MAGA gun nuts.
oof, that’s more than I ever wanted to know about brown shirts.
Well, they say knowing history is the key to not repeating it. It’s looking like that needs to be amended to knowing history gives you an idea of the splatter mark you’re about to leave when the train you see coming a mile away is approaching the part of the tracks you’re tied to, but are otherwise powerless to do anything other than sound dramatic to people tied next to you who insist that surely the train will stop in time…
…actually nevermind. It’ll stop us from repeating it, totally for realsies. *gets shit-faced drunk*
It’s a really unpleasant feeling, isn’t it? Being Cassandra is the suck.
It’s astonishing and demoralizing how many people I respected don’t know history. A good chunk of them tell you there is no train even though they have to shout to be heard over the horn.
I managed to quit drinking this summer after a hospital detox. Now I’m stuck raw dogging reality.
Raw dogging it sucks. I got sober years ago, but I had a couple bad relapses. Now I’m at a point where I can get drunk once or twice a week without it taking over my life. Not everyone can do this though so be careful.
I can’t get drunk when I have to work the next day. I don’t know how I used to do it every day. The hangovers are fucking brutal.
I take a gummy and a variable amount of ibuprofen every night with dinner. Helps some with sleep and pain.
My hangover crutch was modafanil. However, I may just have to be done drinking. Sucks, but it was destroying my life. I’m much healthier. I miss bourbon and the brain numbing fog like great sex with a crazy lover.