Wednesday, 12 July 2017
Pissed as a Maggot.
Ain't that a quaint ol' Aussie expression. So pissed that you are flailing around on the ground, often slithering from one spot to another just like a maggot. I guess that's cos we Aussies are a literal lot. I mean, some of the other slang expressions for having one too many alcoholic beverages are a bit less graphically clear. I mean bollocky drunk - what does that mean? Testicles flobbling about? Isn't that the usual way they hang, at least when tethered?
Banjaxed, blathered, blotto, fleemered, hammered, jeremied, legless, off me trolley, palintoshed, squiffy, stocious, yeh there are as many descriptions as places I have been trollied and tempted to chunder after one too many.
In my younger days going for a tipple sometimes turned into slurping from the fire hose and drinking til I fell over.
But actually I might have been mostly lucky cos I don't recall too many times where I actually fell over. Oh sure I remember clearly throwing cash at the cabbie and really legging it into the house so I could drive the big white bus until there was just no more juice to power it and I have slept the night curled up around the porcelain. And I remember dancing inelegantly on tables and beer kegs and occasionally being asked to vacate a club or drinking establishment. Oh well.
But now I am not a big drinker, and given that this week I have been waking during the night and fumbling my way to the loo by bouncing off walls and tripping over shit like shoes and dirty wash that I failed to put away, it is probably just as well.
Feeling that pissed in the middle of the night after an evening of such sedate suburban debauchery as hoovering up a roast dinner and suffering square arse from too many hours in front of the tellie, was a little disconcerting I can tell you, so I slid back under the covers and hoped that all would be righted by the morning.
But bugger me if the whole world wasn't still askew in the AM. The floor was all a kimbo and the walls were anything but vertical. I stumbled out of bed and the room whizzes hit me just like in days of old after one too many voddies. My head was aching and my stomach was heaving. What a pisser!
A bloody huge hangover and no booze silly fun - bugger!
This lasted until after lunchtime. The world flipflopped for a couple of hours and then wooliness took over.
Then the next night it was more of the same, and the morning was same, and again the cloud lifted by lunchtime.
And again this morning.
I am getting better at focusing and swallowing down the nausea.
Research since tells me that this sort of vertigo is a problem for quite a number of CML folk.
It's just another happy little side effect, although it might not even be a side effect, it might be a part of the fucking disease.
No-one really knows.
But what I do know is that the thrill of being this kinda out of control is wildly exaggerated. I don't fancy drinking myself into this sort of stupor ever again, even if it would mean that I'd at least for a short time be courageous enough to scamper upon to a sturdy table and kick up me heels.
Nah I'd prefer to be able to make my way to the loo without having to dodge imaginary obstacles.