#alcoholic

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алкоголик  (m)
alkogólik
alcoholic (person)

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Я член общества “Анонимные алкоголики”.
I’m a member of Alcoholics Anonymous.

#drinks    #drink making    #drink pouring    #cocktail    #cranberry    #cranberries    #cranberry sauce    #gimlet    #alcohol    #alcoholic    #christmas    #christmas cocktail    
Officer: How high are you? Me: No its hi how are you!

Officer: How high are you?
Me: No its hi how are you!


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Sorry guys I dissapeared for awhile. I went to treatment and couldnt remember my fucking password

alcoholic
This ecard sums up my family quite well with an emphasis on the “drink”.Mary Kate DeCraene author of

This ecard sums up my family quite well with an emphasis on the “drink”.

Mary Kate DeCraene author of “No One Said Life Was Fair” a poignant and humorous memoir about growing up in an alcoholic family.  Purchase your copy today on www.amazon.com.


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It was Christmas Eve, 1965—my parent’s first Christmas together as newlyweds. Mom’s brother Pete and his wife, Lucy, purchased a new home in Oak Lawn, Illinois, a southwestern suburb of Chicago. Their home was beautifully decorated for the holiday, and was immaculate—not a thing was out of place. They invited the entire Sheedy clan over to celebrate including all nine of their nieces and nephews, who were under the age of twelve. Mom’s sister Lois invited her boyfriend, Bob, aka the Polish Cowboy, to meet the family for the first time.

At the height of the party, the children ran amok through the house. During their mayhem, they accidentally broke Pete and Lucy’s new laundry chute. Exactly how the laundry chute broke and who was responsible, remains a mystery to this day. The men, including Grandpa Sheedy, congregated in the basement and were happily getting drunk. Nana Sheedy and the other women sought refuge from all the commotion in the kitchen. My parents were both drunk and having one of their world-renowned screaming matches in the recreation room. Mom wanted to stay at the party with her family, and Dad wanted to leave. Ah, the joy of the holidays. Dad demanded Mom get her coat and shoes on, and, as he exited the room, shouted, “I’ll pick you up in the alley.”

What Dad failed to realize during his drunken tirade was they were in the suburbs, and there were no alleys. Stubborn as he was, however, Dad did not let that stop him. He got into his car, revved his engine loudly, and gunned it. He created his own alley by tearing down whatever obstacles stood in his way—including fences, manicured lawns, and sod. The pristine white snow turned to mud as his spinning wheels flung dirt clods of grass high up into the air.

Dad’s car came to a grinding halt as it got stuck in the mud behind the neighbor’s house. My parent’s private fight suddenly became very public as Dad kicked opened the car door, stumbled out, and exchanged a plethora of un-pleasantries with the neighbors. Right in the middle of Dad’s rant, his foot got sucked into the mud like quicksand and knocked him off his feet.

Realizing he was unable to extricate his car out of the mud alone, Dad got up and marched toward Pete and Lucy’s house for help. Unfortunately, all the cookie cutter houses in their neighborhood looked exactly the same. The only way Dad could tell them apart was by the address. Covered in mud from head to toe, he stomped up Pete and Lucy’s front steps, flung open the door, and traipsed across the brand-new living room carpet leaving a trail of muddy footprints behind him.

“My car is stuck in the alley. Can someone help me push it out?” Dad asked then meandered back to his car.

Stunned party goers, in awe over the spectacle they witnessed, asked in unison, “What alley?”

Everyone at the party went running to the back window to see what happened. Lois’s boyfriend, Bob, tried to distract the children by doing magic tricks and telling jokes. Mom, sensing Dad was about to explode, was determined to go outside and defuse him. She fought her way through the crowd and headed toward the back door. Her sister Peggy stopped her before she went outside.

“You can’t go out there like that, Pat. It’s winter. You’ll catch a death of cold. Here, wear my shoes.” Peggy took off her flats and offered them to Mom. As Mom fumbled to put on her sister’s shoes, the argument outside came to a boil.

Uncle John is one of the few people who can reason with Dad when he is drunk. He and Dad are very close. They have known each other ever since they were kids and played baseball together. Curious to find out what Dad was ranting about, John followed him outside. “Are you crazy, Ronnie?” John screamed as he witnessed firsthand the carnage that was once the neighbor’s backyard.

Dad turned to confront John and fell face first into the mud.

Much to Dad’s chagrin, the police arrived on the scene right on cue. Peggy sent her husband, Frank, out to stop Dad before he did something he regretted. Mom attempted to slip out the back door with Frank, but her family urged her to stay inside and let the police handle matters.

As Dad tells it, “There I was, crawling through the mud, when I happened upon a pair of well-polished, patent leather shoes. I looked up and saw an angry Oak Lawn police officer glaring down at me.”

Dad crawled between the police officer’s legs and made a break for it. The officer turned around, grabbed Dad by the scruff of the neck, and pulled him back up to his feet. Dad steadied his footing and took a rounding swing at the officer. Not the soundest judgment, for it landed him and Frank in a heap of trouble.

“Ronnie, don’t!” Frank pleaded, as he stepped in between Dad and the police officer.

Dad missed the police officer and hit Frank instead, right in the kisser then swirled to the ground. John pleaded with the officer to let his brothers-in-laws go, but he soon realized it was futile. Dad and Frank were arrested, charged with disturbing the peace, and spent the night in jail.

My parents had no money for bail. Luckily, Pete and Lucy came to the rescue and bailed Dad out of jail the next morning, so he could spend the rest of the holiday with his blushing, hung-over bride.

Two weeks later, Dad and Frank were scheduled to appear in court. Still bruised from the experience, Frank explained to the judge he was merely trying to prevent his brother-in-law from hitting the police officer. The police officer corroborated his story. The judge dismissed the charges against Frank and let him go. Dad, however, never showed up for court. The charges against him were dropped, and he got off scot-free.

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