That's All I Can Say

Babies. Just babies.

Shit.

Charlotte, 6

 Daniel, 7

Olivia, 6

Josephine, 7

Ana, 6

Dylan, 6

 Madeleine, 6

 Catherine, 6 

Chase, 7

Jesse, 6

 James, 6

 Grace, 7 

 Emilie Parker, 6

 Jack, 6

 Noah, 6

 Caroline, 6

Jessica, 6

 Avielle, 6

 Benjamin, 6

 Allison, 6

 Lauren Russeau, 30

 Mary Sherlach, 56

 Victoria Soto, 27

Rachel Davino, 29 

Anne Marie Murphy, 52

 Dawn Hocksprung, 47

So you want to be a bar owner, huh?

There are a few things one has to have in order to own and operate a successful bar.

First and foremost, testicles.

Meaning that you have to be willing to face conflict, fire people and be assertive.

If you can't?

You have no business owning a bar.

If you can not pay your employees?

You probably shouldn't be paying out $200-400 a night for your entertainment.

If the bar is in a small town and you've been fucking your employees over consistently for the last few years?

Stop denying it and trying to make excuses.

Stop for a moment and realize that you have a certain responsibility to your employees.

There's not a whole hell of a lot of job security in bartending, but wondering from day to day whether I will be able to feed my kids takes a toll on our owner/employee relationship.

You can not continue to play games with peoples' lives and not expect any repercussions. Again, with the small town thing.

People will eventually realize that you are not good people, and they certainly won't want to frequent your establishment.

Once you have lost the respect of your employees as well as your patrons? You're pretty much screwed.

Do NOT get all fucked up in your own bar.

You can't complain about an unpaid $35.00 tab when you are running a $700 tab in your own bar.

Then?

If you do get all fucked up?

Do NOT alienate your guests.

Idiot.

Do NOT stand in the middle of the street and yell "FUCK YOU" to the bar next door.

You look like a lunatic.

If you can't afford to buy liquor and beer and meet your payroll?

You are doing something wrong.

Continuing to do it wrong, over and over, doesn't make any fucking sense.

Maybe, just maybe, you should suck it up and admit that you are clueless.

Maybe you are in way over your head and it's no one's fault but your own.

If you want to know why business has been declining so rapidly, and you aren't seeing any profit, despite your bartender, entertainment and atmosphere changes?

The problem, quite obviously, is you.

The Lies I Tell... Everyone

I lie to people.

All the time.

Bosses, friends, coworkers... children, mine and other peoples', and random strangers.

Just in case anyone has ever believed a word that I've said...

I am not now, nor have I ever been, on a methamphetamine and laxative diet.

While snorting drugs does make them work faster, I don't actually snort my daily vitamins.

Or anything else that I have claimed works better if you snort it, including but not limited to, zinc, magnesium,  tobacco, tequila or bologna.

I was not born a poor black child. 

I do not really believe we should arm small children to make classrooms safer. 

I don't use bath salts.

I just like to say "bath salts". 

At ridiculous random moments.

I also like to yell "MEDIC" and "GET OFF THE X!" when it's busy at work.

"That" did not actually also happen to me once. Whatever "that" may be at a particular moment.

Any statement that is immediately followed by the words, "Fuck 'em if they can't take a joke," should never be considered actual advice.

Ever.

My dad was also not born a poor black child.

My husband was born in the USA. So he really doesn't have a green card, but it is not because he is an illegal alien from Mexico.

We do have running water and electricity at my house.

I did not lose a leg in any war that I did not go to.

I do not handcuff my children together when they fight.

I want to, but I'm pretty sure DCFAS would frown on it.

I also do not discipline them with a stun gun.

I really don't discipline them at all, they are all heathens.

I do buy shoes for the babies in the summertime.

I was not there when Kennedy was killed.

Obviously I was not the guy on the grassy knoll. 

I do not let the dog clean the kids off instead of bathing them.

Unless they puke.

Shit.

That's a lie also.

I did not, at any time, apply nail polish with a paint roller.
It looks like I do, but I didn't.

My balls did not, in fact, drop well after puberty.

They did not drop at all.

I don't have testicles.

Rest Easy

We were kids together.

The 4 of us, mostly, because Jay was so much older.

Road trips with Grandma.

God, we must have driven her insane.

Those damn trees, remember?

"Look at the pretty trees..."

She talked about them the whole way down to Indy.

It was payback, probably for the bouncy balls and the gum in her car's carpet.

For the cigarette butts behind her garage.

Remember how she always knew when we had been smoking pot?

I still don't know how she knew.

Christmas Eve and Easter Day.

Coloring eggs.

You stapled my finger.

You tried to shoot me with the nail gun when we were doing the roof.

We had the whole damn world in front us.

Your brother's wedding.

All those boys, and finally that baby girl you were so enamored with.

We joked about taking a collection in the family to pay for a vasectomy for you.

I'm sorry now.

For not understanding.

For judging you.

For not understanding how that drug makes people not themselves anymore.

You made it easy, all those things you did wrong.

Immoral and illegal.

Chasing that motherfucking dragon.

I didn't understand.

You had demons I couldn't see.

Wouldn't have understood them if I could have

Couldn't have understood the drug.

How it changes you.

Controls you.

That last high.

I won't pretend to understand it.

Seems so simple to me, you had so much going for you again.

Seemed like you were going to make it this time.

You didn't.

So here we all are, grieving for you.

For all that you were and all that you could have been.

All of your children, fatherless now.

Your mother, devastated by the loss of her firstborn.

Your brother.

God, your brother.

You two were inseparable for so long.

Your dad.

Grandma.

She's heartbroken.

One should never have to bury a child, a grandchild.

It happens, I know.

That doesn't make it better, easier.

I wish you'd known how much you were loved.

I wish you hadn't gone back to that place.

Where you were all alone.

Where you couldn't see a way out.
Just a few years ago, we all expected this day.

It would have hurt, but it wouldn't have shocked so many people.

We all had faith that you'd make it this time.

Makes it so much harder to accept.

At least you're out of the darkness now.

Rest easy, Cousin.

I pray you find the peace in death that you couldn't find in life.

Holy Crack in a Bottle...

Redbull does not give me wings. Redbull does not phase me. Products containing ephedra don't do a damn thing for me. I live on five hour energy and Monster energy drinks.

That sign that says, "maximum of seven sugars with coffee" at McDonald's? I probably inspired it.

Three shots of espresso in a small coffee with ten sugars just barely gets my motivation motor running.

I have an unnatural tolerance for stimulants. 

And so when my brother asked me if I had ever tried Redline, (which is probably methamphetamine,) I was more intrigued than any normal person should be. Which is not to say that I am in any way normal...

Even after reading this warning label:

WARNING: NOT FOR USE BY INDIVIDUALS UNDER THE AGE OF 18 YEARS. DO NOT USE IF PREGNANT OR NURSING. Consult a physician or licensed qualified health care professional before using this product if you have, or have a family history of, heart disease, thyroid disease, diabetes, high blood pressure, depression or other psychiatric condition, glaucoma, difficulty in urinating, prostate enlargement, or seizure disorder, or if you are using a monoamine oxidase inhibitor (MAOI) or any other dietary supplement, prescription drug, or over-the-counter drug containing ephedrine, pseudoephedrine, or phenylpropanolamine (ingredients found in certain allergy, asthma, cough or cold, and weight control products). Do not exceed recommended serving. Exceeding recommended serving may cause adverse health effects. Discontinue use and call a physician or licensed qualified health care professional immediately if you experience rapid heartbeat, dizziness, severe headache, shortness of breath, or other similar symptoms. Individuals who are sensitive to the effects of caffeine or have a medical condition should consult a licensed health care professional before consuming this product. Do not use this product if you are more than 15 pounds over weight. The consumer assumes total liability if this product is used in a manner inconsistent with label guidelines. Do not use for weight reduction. KEEP OUT OF REACH OF CHILDREN. Do not consume synepherine or caffeine from other sources, including but not limited to, coffee, tea, soda and other dietary supplements or medications containing phenylephrine or caffeine. Do not use for more than 8 weeks. Use of this product may cause your skin to be extra sensitive to UV sources, such as artificial or natural sunlight. Avoid excessive exposures from these sources. Discontinue use two weeks prior to surgery.

And after also realizing that I had already taken two five hour energy drinks and that I was more hungover than I have probably ever been, I decided that I certainly could handle 4 ounces of the stuff. I drank it. My brother had issued a challenge of sorts and I desperately needed some energy.

I thought the hangover was going to kill me.

I am reasonably sure that hangovers do not actually kill people, but I thought I was probably dying.

And then I drank the crank in a bottle and I was absolutely certain that I was going to die.

Just moments after drinking the ass-tasting energy drink, my hands began to shake.

My heart was pounding. I could feel it beating against my sternum, probably.

I could feel my heartbeat in my freaking eyeballs.

That shit's not normal.

I could not sit or stand still, not only because of my overabundance of energy, I was afraid that if I stood still for a few moments too long, people would notice my heart beat through my chest. 

I was sweating.

And freezing.

The closest I can get to explaining this hot-cold thing is the really awful fever chills you get when you have the flu... the really bad flu.

Which is funny, really, because the next thing I experienced was mind numbing nausea. That kind where you are afraid to even breathe for fear of puking right there in front of everyone. Mouth watering, stomach gurgling, whole body shaking and sweating. I figured  I should probably go the fuck home and die already.

Once there, the vomiting began and refused to let up until well into the wee hours of the morning... and I drank half a fucking bottle of this shit!

I wish I could say it ended there when I finally passed out, but it didn't.

The light headed, spacey feeling persisted well into the next day, it cleared up when the diarrhea started. 

I found out during a discussion later with the gas station lady about how the shit almost killed me that it is used as a work out aid!

I have visions of people simply keeling over on a treadmill after drinking 2 to 4 ounces of the stuff.

The next time someone offers me meth in a bottle I am going to tell them I'd rather do the real shit, it's safer.