dariosaurus

I will never fully understand intoxication. I know that now and would never try to deny it. But this is actually okay, because intoxication will never fully understand me, either.
Currently in my cranium I see it like this; inebriation equals the breakdown of social walls and stands as an excuse to sing a backstreet boys song. In the metaphorical cranium of inebriation however, Dario equals a jumble of uncertainty and stands as an excuse to experiment with different styles of vomit. For the sake of argument let us give a name and a personality to intoxication; by us I really mean that I will it give it a name and a personality, you on the other hand, will attentively sit there with nothing better to do. Intoxication is now named fuckface and its personality is oh, I dont know, how about being a fuckface. Why fuckface you ask. Because in all fairness, that is exactly what he is; a multi-faceted fuckface. I mean f.f (simply fuckface abbreviated) starts off pleasant. He allows you to talk to people you might not otherwise discuss with, he gives you the courage to urinate in just about any shade box alley way in the greater Ottawa region and, most conveniently, once f.f decides that he is calling the shots (1) he will ask every unattractive vagina in the bar to vacate and replace them with ones who not only appear to carry good situations but also replaces them with the loves of your life for the next four hours.
If intoxication were to stop there we might call him Jesus. But, intoxication doesnt stop there does it. After the bar closes and you hit your domicile he turns against you; he whispers into your ear that knocking over a chair is a great idea and if your father wakes up telling him the fucking cat did it and then showing him your jazz hands will only make him respect you more as an adult. In addition, he will suggest your cell phone must be used as much as possible (2) and that if the computer is not on then you dont deserve to live. Personally, I think there should a law stating that I cannot be with five feet of a communicative device if I have gone to the bath room more than twice in an hour. What comes out of me on msn is especially ridiculous. I start writing words that carry no vowels, I tell whoever is online to go fuck themselves and I hold letters for no apparent reason. I actually laugh out loud while attempting to find grotesque pictures of ex-girlfriends on face-book and frequently do I find myself telling the cat that if she had an msn contact I would block her. More importantly, the msn name changes into whatever I have a craving for that instant, in last nights case fuckign tititry fucking ezhit nazz. Surely I would never soberly write an msn name that reads i personally would like to have intercourse with female bosoms but yet that does not mean I dont constantly want to. It is for the reason of saying something I wouldnt normally say but ironically wanting whatever it is I said that confuses me about intoxication.
Mostly the things i say when drunk are things I should not be saying in the first place, aka harmer is just another word heartache, but its alright because I dont mean them. Yet sometimes the things I should not be saying are the things that mean the most. This is why I will never understand him and in turn why i call him fuckface. What is it about being intoxicated that makes you feel like the loneliest bitch ever created? Why do you think that through some magical and carefully devised plan you and your former lover can forget about the shittiness that was a staple of your relationship and start anew? (3). Why is making out with something the be all and end all of the evening? When does jack bauer eat and go to the bathroom?
If intoxication had a face I would most definitely slap it. If he had a leg id suggest putting it in a bear trap. More notably, if he had a heart I would feed it to a baby. Why cant our dear f.f make up his fucking mind? Do I mean every outrageous statement I proclaim or am I simply saying them for shock value. Of course, I could simply just ask myself these questions as oppose to a lush entity but if I was to ask myself these questions I would get answers that I do not generally want to think about.
Some people say that the truth comes out when youve been drinking. But that cant be true because if my cat had msn I certainly wouldnt block her just as harmer is certainly not another word for heartache (4). Is being sober a form of denying true emotion or is intoxication just a bitch for self reflection?
I suppose that in all fairness, I myself am not an easy one for fuckface to understand either. In my complexity, I am sure he staggers quite a bit. While all he wants me to do is flip over furniture and swear a lot I cant help but become a melancholic self reflective woman-boy who flips over furniture and swears a lot. Perhaps he ponders as to why I cannot be like most other penis carrying members of society who, when drunk try to find something to fornicate with and if unsuccessful touch themselves then go to bed. Now im not saying that has never happened to me but, before it does there is at least an hour of contemplation which enters my cerebellum and attempts to piece together my life in all its organized disorder. Perhaps he wonders why I just cant enjoy my state of everything being funny and spitting when I talk. See thats just it; he wants me to enjoy my evening and then head right into bed, preferably with a big boobed someone else, whereas I want to enjoy my evening then come home and contemplate my being and then head into bed with a big boobed someone else.
In actuality, perhaps intoxication, the fuckface that it is, and I are a perfect pairing. I allow him to bamboozle my social responsibilities and etiquette for the evening and in turn he allows me to voice feelings I didnt know I had towards people I make a valiant effort to forget. The trick then is plainly separating real emotion from spontaneity. Ironically enough, this division is the hardest part.




1.sometimes he also orders the shots which is sometimes really swell.

2.if youre looking for excitement get memory loss drunk and vulgarly text message people. in the morning read the responses and try and piece together what you said.

3.staple is sort of harsh; sprinkle might be a better choice if youre sensitive towards that subject.

4.its another word for hatred which, in some countries like Germany is another word for love (5).

5.take into consideration we are not in Germany.