Bloody Mary Secrets
March 17, 2008
I never understood the “hair of the dog” concept. Why add insult to injury? Why delay the inevitable? Mythology suggests that drinking in the morning is a sure sign of alcoholism or terminal illness. Yet, stirring alcohol into a glass of tomato juice before noon, especially on Sunday, is considered wise. 
Why? Because the next day is Monday. Monday is a drag, so why not have a hangover during work hours and get paid for it? then again, why not ruin a weekend that is already a bust because we know it is going to end all too soon? These are questions that AA members of America consider inappropriate. Rationalization: The Eighth Deadly Sin. Civilized: The ninth deadly sin. I have conducted an experiment and would like to share the results. Drinking Bloody Mary’s before noon on Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday and/or Saturday does not ruin your life, especially if you don’t have one. The key is: horseradish. Lots of it. Celery salt. Hot sauce. Red Peppers. Celery. Soy sauce. Fresh squeezed tomatoes. Lemon slices. High quality vodka. Plastic glass. Take outside and sip under a palm tree. No palm tree? Go find one. Settle in. Get call from boss that you’re fired. Add extra horseradish. Apply suntan lotion. Allow house foreclosure. Do basic yoga stretches. Call 911 and report yourself missing. Throw cell phone in a fish tank. But what if, But what about, But how come, But they will, But it isn’t…………..oh, mantra’s and then, the guilt. Adjust your schedule. Remove all alcohol from your beverages. It is just another ingredient no matter what they tell you and you don’t need it. What you need is freedom. Write a note and color copy it. Note saying”I’m sorry” - renounce your God if He does not understand you. Take a few months off and remind yourself of what you have always wanted to do. Prepare to die penniless. Expect bliss.
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There is somebody in my house in Vermont. A nice man is renting my house and I am thrilled because that man is renting my house and sending me money so that I can rent an apartment in Providence. Now, wait a minute. Does this make sense? I thought so, a few weeks ago, when I was working here, singing, planning, organizing, hob-knobbing, but as of today, as I lugged a bunch of my crap up two flights of stairs on the East Side, all the while knowing I would have to lug the crap back down the two flights of stairs a few months from now— as of today, I thought to myself, “Gee, I don’t feel very good in my head” I sat on the stairs, dirty stairs, very dirty, and considered my situation. I blamed the town of Bridport , Vermont, for not having a Dunkin Donut’s or a Cafe, a bar or a nightclub, a college, tennis courts, health club, movie theater. Then I blamed myself for wanting those things. Then I blamed myself for having those things here in Providence and not taking advantage of them because I like staying home and reading in bed. Now, if I like staying home and reading in bed, why don’t I just move back to my own home, in Bridport, and wait out the winter with Charles Dickens and Mark Twain? Now that I have rented my house, I miss it. It is not available. That is why I was so sad today, moving into what I thought was a nice apartment on the East Side. It is somebody elses house and always will be, no matter how many knick knacks, rugs, paintings, books, personal items I stuff into it. Renting makes me feel insecure, more insecure than worrying about how to pay my property tax. It’s silly, because none of us own anything fully. Still, sombody is in MY house and i am in somebody else’s house, and it’s ridiculous in a way that I can’t quite comprehend and it is making me very very sad.