I'm Hung Up

It doesn't matter what happened last weekend or even how I may feel about it. Whether or not I drank way too much or said the stupidest things in front of people that I would not even be able to recognize now that I'm sober doesn't matter one bit. Because as the weekend approaches, my mind and body are yearning to do it all over again. And then, come this Sunday/Monday (the same as countless previous ones), I will look in the mirror and say to myself, 'Leela, you cannot behave like this. You cannot live like this.' Accompained by a vow, that I will replace my "out on the town" nights with calmer activities. But it never fails that by Saturday night you will find me out downtown on somekind of dance floor and/or hoovering near the bar/bartender (and if it is much later into the night, eating at late night restaurants or leaning over the toilet/out of the car door or sleeping stark naked on the floor of my apartment, depending on earlier alcoholic consumption levels, you see).

You know that you might be an alcoholic if you look at the juice in your fridge in the morning, but refuse to drink it because you bought that juice to mix with your vodka.