|whiskey and superstitous idiots|
|It's funny that you guys are talking about spirits and superstitions and the power of evil spirits and shtuff, 'cause I was thinking about it today too.
I'm a superstitious motherfucker most of the time. Not "step on a crack and break your mother's back" kinda shit, usually just the stuff that deals with karma. It's pretty weird, because I know that if I break a mirror I'm not going to have 7 years of bad luck, but I still kiss the roof of the car when I run a yellow light.
Anyway, the reason I was thinking about all this was because yesterday I found $31 on the table in the hallway. It was crumpled in a ball so I knew it was my sister's, and I figured that she would steal my money if I left it laying around, so I took it. I only had enough money to get my new tat, so I was very happy to find that money. Afterwards I remembered that it's bad luck to take money that you find, and it kinda started to worry me, but deep down I knew that two things happen if you believe in superstitions: 1) you blame things on bad luck or evil spirits that you'd normally attribute to chance and/or 2) you might subconciously set yourself up for situations where bad things will happen.
But it's fun to be superstitious anyway, 'cause I sure as hell don't know if it was because of evil spirits or my own idiocy that I stepped in dog poop and slammed my hand in the door within 20 minutes of finding that money. I prefer to blame it on bad luck, because yesterday was such a shitty day. I told Kelly (after we had discussed superstitions and the fact that 31 is 13 backwards, oooh, spooky) that I was probably gonna die last night. And although I didn't die, it sure as hell felt like I was going to.
Here's where I set myself up for bad luck- I drank half a bottle of Jack and a bunch of shots of Albertson's brand whiskey last night. I know from personal experience that Albertson's brand liquor will make me puke like there's no tomorrow, but for whatever reason I did it anyway. I had my friend Mike [penis (tm)] drive me home because I was so sloshed, and I think I puked most of the way home. I don't know, though, because I passed out. He parked in my driveway and walked to his house a block away. Sometime about an hour later, Kelly and Brian stopped by to see if I wanted to do something (keep in mind it's 1 AM) and knocked on my window. That woke my mom up, who came outside and noticed that I was passed out in the passenger seat of my car with my head out the window and puke all over the driveway. She was really pissed, but Kelly and Brian calmed her down and she went back to bed. Kelly and Brian left to go to Taco Bell and came back sometime before 3, and I was still hanging out of the car drifting in and out of conciousness. If they hadn't come back (and given me some water) I would have woken up in my car this morning with a really bad hangover.
So although I really don't believe it, it's just more fun to say that shit happened because I took that money, instead of admitting that it was my own fault for drinking that much whiskey in a half-hour period.