Hungover

Ugliness Follows Me



I'm at that point where there's really no reason to wake up. Let me take it a step further: it's a clinical embarrassment to wake up and realize I'm Matt Eckert.

Good God! It's like a fuzzy span of three weeks where I feel like I'm waking up to the exact same day and I'm obligated to repeat it.

From an email:



hungover...sick...what's the diff?

i get in here and people are already pissing me off. big red is arguing a point with me that i made and i have no idea how to respond to someone trying to argue my own point. then, there's this movie-making guy who's sending me scripts that i don't want to read and demanding that i have coffee with him. weisberg calls me three times last night, in succession, and i think he's bombing my work phone now when i explicitly told him to email me cuz i didn't feel like dealing with him on the phone. i just found out i have to put in for some wedding gift that i don't even want to be present to deliver. some dirty yank from a credit card company keeps hounding me for money. i have no money. i could pull 5 grand from my 401K, but i don't have the 230 to pay off the previous loan. i keep waking up at 5 cuz the sun hits my apt like a flood light and i can't figure out how to work my blinds that are now all kaliwampus cuz i nearly yanked them down in anger. i'm friggin tired, don't have any idea how i'm going to kill 8 more hours here...that about sums it up right now.



The blind thing is really bothering me. It's like the right side is some jilted lover of the left side and wants nothing to do with going down with its ex-love. So, it looks like my window is winking at Seattle.

I called in and used a vacation day due to "the Godfather."

The Godfather is a drink: Scotch and Amaretto. This bartender I know decided I might like it.

Deciding an alcoholic might like a drink? Man, years of school must have formed that intuition.

Anyway, I got drunk on this ugly drink on Tuesday and ended up staying at this bar until I went through the 20 in my pocket. That 20 was "earned" from selling CDs earlier so that I would have gas money for the rest of the week.

Do I have no shame?

At some point in the evening I met a retired comedian who told me about the biz. Apparently he'd been on TV and such and has met Jerry Seinfeld and has opened for Ellen Degeneress.
Which one can believe when one is drunk and in a bar.

I have no reason to believe he was lying, but I wouldn't make a bet either way.

So, we're talking and it's interesting hearing about the biz and such, but then it turns to politics and I realize I have a Republican on my hands.

I hate talking politics, but once it comes up it's like this ugly sore you can't look away from. So, we continue and I do what I usually do with opposing opinions: give no ground, but don't force any strong opinions.

This is because once I get into the horror that is the President I get mad and then I'm reduced to a bleating drunk and a fight ensues.

Man, just thinking about having those conversations gives me the creeps. In fact, just thinking about that night makes me sick.

Have you had that? Just thinking about some really drunk night makes you feel just as sick as you were when you were there?

Anyway, so this guy wants a ride home and I'm hopping drunk and drive him nine blocks to a bus stop or something. The whole thing was shady and I shouldn't have been driving.

The guy gave me the willies a bit, too. Like maybe he was a closet cornholer or something? I'm not sure. Am I so homophobic I can't give a guy a ride home? Well, I don't think that's it. Sometimes you just sense something is amiss with someone.

Like that time I went to some bar with that couple I met and got that feeling they were bad luck and we were shortly pulled over and she was exposed as an underager drinking on a fake ID. Meanwhile I had a gram of coke on me. Ugliness.

This is why I don't go to bars alone and shouldn't have on Tuesday: alone, I attract weirdos.

Safety in numbers, man. Safety in numbers.

Ah, well, I'm bored.



Pleace,

Matt