Punks and British men making cheese sauce together? In your dreams.

So last night I had a dream involving Brendan Kelly, the guy from Shaun of the Dead(the guy who plays Shaun, of course), jessica biel, some unknown drunkard(could have been Bruce Willis or a homeless guy I saw once, I'm just not so sure about the man's identity right now, I haven't even finished my first cup of coffee), and the man who plays the Hunting Cap Lodge attendant in Bulletproof(that movie with Daman Wayans and Adam Sandler that you probably haven't seen, didn't miss much). Now in this dream, BK, SOFTD, BW/HG, and JB(who i swear didn't give a BJ in this dream), and I started off by getting piss drunk in some sort of world that seemed to me to be a cross between Friday Night Lights(the movie with the epic soundtrack, not the shitty TV show), and Back to the Future II. So we drank a lot in my dream, and finally, shit, I just spilled coffee on myself, the drinking chapter, or, Part One, as I like to call it, ended with SOFTD and I finishing off a bottle of Apple Brandy Rum that we found open in his basement that he said was at least as old as his father. Now, just in case you don't see how obviously funny this is, let me lay it out for you. Here I am, having a perfect dream involving punk bassists, drunkards, and a really hott chick, and the best thing my little mind can dream up to drink is 'apple brandy rum'? What the fuck kind of disgusting Boone's Farm concoction is that? The only thing that would have made that drink choice better would have been if it was apple brandy rum cream, and we drank it in our steamy hot lattes. Thanks a lot subconcious for revealing just how gay I really am, I appreciate it.

Anyway, so after we polished off that bottle of apple brandy rum, Part II began with vigor. Our next mission was to go to work, where we all had to make cheese together. And not so much cheese, so much as the cheese sauce base for Macaroni and Cheese. Oh, and drunk Bruce Willis was replaced with Queen Latifah. I'm not sure when the swap took place, just that instead of drinking extremely awkward liquor with a man that i'm a die hard fan of, I got to watch QL and JB do the whole white girl/black woman power struggle while QL stirred a giant cauldron of macaroni and cheese sauce. Finally, we finished with the cheese sauce, and the hunting cap lodge attendant showed up and started to attempt to convince JB to come home with him and give him a BJ, while I walked outside and pulled a fairly skilled blunt with one minor imperfection that I was trying to fix when I was roughly tossed back into reality and realized that I was a half hour late for work.

Alright, not so much work, so much as a half hour late for opening the home boutique store that I'm watching for the rest of the week on the count of the store is a family business and my mother, a content forty-something small business owner, is off at a big home boutique extravaganza in atl, and I'm on winter break from school. I mean, if the shoe fits. I'm sure that old southern ladys love to come in and instead of seeing a sweet, middle-aged woman that just reeks of happiness and love, are greeted by an eighteen year old kid with his hair sticking up, speaking in slang, with his fingers dancing on his laptop like they just finally figured out where and just what the fuck a clit really does for a girl. Maybe I'm not giving them a chance to accept me, and in all honesty, most old people like me due in no part to the fact that while my family growing up has always been caught between the d's of middle class, the old people in my life, have not. 

Well, for a first blog, that was fairly liberating. Oh, and the title is based on the fact that I'm currently on day 12 of non-herbalicious fun after over a year of daily herb use, so now I'm really working on developing my alcoholism. I'll let you know how it goes.