Red Bull isn’t like the others. It’s your friend.

I shouldn’t be awake, and I definitely shouldn’t be drinking and blogging. But that’s exactly what I’m doing.

I had three beers tonight and not weak American lagers, either. No sir, mine were high-gravity microbrews, the fancy stuff with the floral hops and the lacing and lots of alcohol.

Also, I drank Red Bull, coffee, and Mountain Dew today.

Also, I need more sleep, but I’m still awake. Damn it.

Also, I exercised today, full-court basketball over lunch and weights in the afternoon. Yesterday, I ran 4 miles, which sucked, every jarring step. I worked out the day before that and the day before that, too. Five hours from now, I’ll be pedaling my road bike on smooth pavement, wondering why I’m not smart and asleep.

Mine is a hazy world right now with the sleep deprivation and the overtraining and the caffeine abuse and the beer. I’m probably headed for a collosal crash. But I just can’t rewire my motor. I can’t turn this machine off.

On the bright side, I now know what it feels like to be a junkie. In the morning, when I’m pushed out of bed because of Snurp meowing in my ear or Chuck, who’s breath smells suspiciously like cat feces, panting in my face, I feel stoned. I’m foggy, unsure if I’ve fed the trash or taken out the Snurp.

By mid-morning, the coffee I gulped like its Gatorade on the way to work is zooming through my insides. I’m gregarious. I’m fixing things. I’m twitching. My co-workers think I’m on meth.

By mid-afternoon, I’m stoned again. My lunch-time workout has zapped my energy, and I’m staring out the window and probably drooling. So I down a Mountain Dew—20 ounces of antifreeze green sugar and sweet, sweet caffeine—and soon, I’m talking too much, and my co-workers are looking at me funny.

By the time I make it home, the fog has returned. I pound a Red Bull, zip through dinner, and read Eli a night-time story, strung out, jumpy, awake.

And then it’s just Slade and me till 1:00 or 2:00 when he starts grunting and smacking, and I take him in to Sally, who’s running on even less sleep, for the late-night shift.

Okay, I’m off to bed now. Except I’m still wide awake, damn it. So maybe I’ll drink one more beer. Maybe then I’ll be able to really sack out.

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3 Responses to “Red Bull isn’t like the others. It’s your friend.”


  1. 1 manda February 18, 2009 at 7:15 pm

    Ahhh. Is “drunk blogging” the new “drunk dialing?” 🙂

  2. 3 lesleyfamily May 27, 2011 at 11:29 am

    We here at Bad Chemicals greatly appreciate your well-reasoned, provocative, original, and insightful comment. No doubt, you labored mightily to put thoughts to screen, and no doubt, if you keep trying very hard, someday you might become literate enough to write a complete sentence.


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