I come from 3 generations of alcoholics, FYI.

Thursday, September 29, 2011

I sent my husband Antonio a message earlier today asking if he wanted to go on a date to pick me up from LAX next month, and sadly he responded that he'll be in Florida. However, this was all done via Facebook messaging...

...which led me to finding the drunk messages I sent him last week, which I normally don’t fall victim to sending...

“don't make fun of me to my phone face. and also i hate you for getting to see the baby. it's not my fault i hustled and wound up in prison. i used to have a life too, man. i used to be able to squeeze those cheeks (whichever cheeks) and now i can't because i live in prison. goodnight. fuck you for not hanging out with me and the baby right now. And fuck you I am not anyone’s second in command. number one bitch. don’t text me for a week straight."

Oh my gosh, this is why I don't drink. I am a schizophrenic drinker. :(