[5] Wine is bottled poetry...

I answered my phone earlier. It was my dad, all "Hey Ry! I'm at the garage. Could you swing by to pick me up in 10/15 minutes?"
But I had a rather sad confession to make. "Umm... I would... but I can't. I've been drinking."
"RYAN!!? IT'S NOT EVEN LUNCHTIME!!"

I wasn't drunk at twenty to twelve this morning, I swear!! So don't assume such things!! (haha!) I was just very aware that my capacities to drive a car would be very much tested by the four glasses of wine already in my system.

I think I'm addicted to cheap wines. Sweet, Sparkling cheap wines. Oh dear. Has my life really got this desperate!? Why can't I be addicted to something glamourous, like champagne!?

I am obsessed with Asti Spumante and Moscato Spumante, Prosseco, and I will even resort to drinking Lambrini and Babycham if needs be, goddamit!!

I've got to have a few glasses in the evening. And some mornings too - to help me wake up. And ofcourse late at night to help me sleep. :-/


Many a day you will find me frantically searching the aisle's of tesco for a bottle, wielding my ID over my head in a furtive attempt to show the masses I am infact over 18.
I am Tesco's bitch.

This is tragic. I mean, I never thought aged twenty-two, I'd be a raving WINO. This is not how I'd planned my life to be. Surely the next step involves me sat on a park bench somewhere, shouting at passers by and pigeons, a wine bottle concealed in a brown bag in my hands, and a great big drity beard on my face.

Then again, it could be worst. I could be addicted to Cider. That would just be chav.

*


Loki xxx