Category Archives: alcoholism

The Date – 2

The words ‘serial rapist’ aren’t exactly what you’d expect to hear on a first date. My eyes started watering and there was a dull but shrill sound ringing in my ears. Like a suppressed fanny fart. I spoke with a … Continue reading

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The Date – 1

So it turns out my husband decides he wants a divorce; I decide I’d better start looking for a shag. On the first date site I create a profile, I get three hundred and four hits in four minutes flat. … Continue reading

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Titanic Fuck-Up

So. I watched Titanic again last night. Why in the name of the good lord, I do do not know. Well, that’s not entirely true. It was either that or the fucking news. And it pissed down with rain last … Continue reading

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Sitting on the Kitchen Counter

Sitting on the Kitchen Counter I’m sitting on the kitchen counter we had built in. Concrete and black tiles. I will not give Ikea a fucking cent. I watch the ants go buy, bumping into each other. Seems there are … Continue reading

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The Pledge (confessions of an alcoholic)

The Pledge (confessions of an alcoholic) I am never going back there again; to that place that burns red holes in my stomach, it leaves me with a sour throat and blurry eyes after I vomit in my lap and … Continue reading

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Diary Entry 7: Rainbow & Josh

Rainbow & Josh Let me be honest, the AA meetings didn’t help. Let me rephrase that: The AA meetings I attended didn’t help—and I attended more than I wanted to. After the water-into-wine escapade, I decided to attend another meeting … Continue reading

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Diary Entry 6: So. AA Meetings

So. AA Meetings I have a drinking problem. I’ll be the first to put my hand up at the front of the classroom while old Teddy ‘Smirnoff’ Smythe’s rubbing one out under his desk at the back. The problem for … Continue reading

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Diary Entry 5: So. Rehab

Diary Entry 5: So. Rehab *I hate starting sentences with ‘so’, but I’m afraid there’s no other way to start this one.* So. Rehab: And I’m not talking AA meetings of the Jesus-is-going-to-hold-your-pathetic-little-hand-while-you-try-and-keep-on-the-straight-and-narrow kind. What that they don’t tell you … Continue reading

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Ronnie & Bob – 2

Ronnie & Bob – 2 The kitchen door lock popped open. Bob was lying on the floor and there was blood oozing from a nasty cut on her left temple and ear. I was going to hang up the phone. … Continue reading

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Ronnie & Bob – 1

*This happened a few years ago. I reread my diary from the late 90’s and discovered these entries (I rewrote it, obviously). Hope you don’t mind. I’ll get back to the story about my cheating, no-good, hairdresser-fucker husband.* Franschoek, Stellenbosch … Continue reading

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