If life wasn’t this funny, I’d be bored off my ass


So here’s the big news for this week . . . I’m moving.  Like, tomorrow.  Yeah, so, I hope you enjoyed the photos from my front yard last week because that won’t be my front yard tomorrow.  Not too far.  About 10 miles from where I am now and in a shittier neighborhood, but better circumstances by a long shot.

You are about to find out why.  As a sort of a disclaimer, some of the things I will mention in here are of a very serious nature, and I do of course take them very seriously.  Please read ahead with the comedic attitude with which I have intended it and the way I have chosen to look at it.  Because, seriously, if I took it the way I should I’d probably leap in front of a train.

I’m kind of a chicken shit, so it would probably be a parked train, but it’s the thought that counts.  Right?

First of all, I’m shooting for funny here and I plan on bringin’ it.  So Teri . . . Welcome back and for the love of God, please go pee.  We’ll wait.

Seriously, we will.  Go.

. . . . . . . . . . . . .

Ready, Teri?  Ok, here we go.

Let’s start with a short introduction of the cast of characters and the situation in which we all became friends:

Throughout the process of addiction recovery, we run across people from all walks of life with all kinds of issues.  Not the least of which is the addiction at hand.  Those of you that are returning readers will know that I don’t drink.  There is a reason for that.  Because I had to stop.  Either because it was going to kill me or we were gonna run out of booze.  We were pretty close to both being possible.  I know many of you would be very upset if we ran out of booze, so because I love you all, I stopped.  Several times.  My recovery has not been perfect, but at this point I can never promise forever.  Just today.

Today you have booze.  You’re welcome.

Anyway, here is the gang:

There is me, of course.  Recovering alcoholic.  Devastatingly handsome.  Shamelessly re-addicted.  To Skittles.

DARKSIDE! Taste the rainbow’s asshole, motherfucker!

Introduce Larry: Recovering Meth addict. Ugly. Angry. Stupid. As fuck.

Introduce Hall: Recovering Heroin addict. Ugly. Not angry. Sleepy.

Introduce Dayton: Recovering Meth addict. Ugly. Overly happy. He’s the greatest thing that ever hit the planet. Just ask him. He’ll tell you.

Now take one nice little split-level house in a family neighborhood and put all four of us in it.


So Larry is the one that found the house.  The lease is in his name and the rest of us just moved in and split the rent.  It is a three bedroom house and the last one in got to live in the tremendous laundry room in the basement.

That would be me, and it actually is tremendous.  I wasn’t being the sarcastic asshole I usually am.  It was actually the biggest room in the house.  The problem was that Larry does 3 loads of laundry a day and the washing machine had a minor vibration issue on the spin cycle.  When I say “minor vibration issue”, I mean that I saw AC/DC live in concert in Greensboro, NC back in the late 80’s.  The concert was quieter than the washer.

Fortunately for me, Dayton’s recovery was less than successful.  He was using Meth, not paying rent, not paying for anything, needed a ride everywhere (“can you run me *insert destination here* real quick” meant you would be gone for AT LEAST 2 hours.) and he showered once a week whether he needed it or not.  Also, there was the girlfriend he moved in with him who was just as pleasant and contributed equally as much rent, utilities, etc.  Eventually he was displaced elsewhere and I moved up into the room he had.

Then there is Hall.  His recovery has been successful save for a minor slip.  He screwed up.  He did it once.  He regretted it.  He resumed recovery and is doing well.  I get it.  He’s forgiven.  He pays rent.  He pays utilities.  I’m not sure he exists.

Hall sleeps ALL THE TIME.  He is either not at the house, or his car is parked outside and his bedroom door is closed and we never see him.  He has a job.  You know those phone books that pile up at your mailbox and gather rain until they are nothing more than yellow slime or you pile them up on top of you refrigerator until it leans to the side?  Yeah, he delivers those.  He works for Yellow Book.  The job gives him maybe 20 hours a week.  Otherwise, he is home.  Asleep.  Or something.  I can’t be sure because I’m out of the house at 5:30 in the morning and don’t get back until 5:30 in the afternoon, 6 days a week, but Larry says he showers about 5 times a day.  I don’t know about the other 4 times, but I know the 5th one occurs just moments before I walk in the door at the end of the day and want a shower.  I prefer it with hot water, but because of this, that hardly ever happens.

Otherwise, he’s a perfect roommate.  We never see him.  He pays all his bills, in full and on time.  We never see him.  I’m not sure that he has ever done laundry.  We know that when we are low on dishes, they are in his room.

I saved the best for last.  Enter Larry.  To say that Larry’s Meth recovery has been unsuccessful is an understatement.  I don’t know what you know or don’t know about Meth addiction, but I’ve learned more about it than I care to know since I’ve been here.  The biggest thing I’ve learned is that Meth addicts are prone to fits of rage.  I don’t mean just being angry and yelling.  I mean blind, uncontrolled, violent rage.  To Larry’s credit, he directs it well.  When he is angry at someone else he is very careful not to direct it at YOU.  I will come home and he will be trashing the place and calling his girlfriend (known from this point forward as “MW” – Meth Whore) and when I walk in the door he’ll look at me and go “Hey man.  What’s up!” . . . and then proceed to trashing the place and finding how many more ways to use the word “fuck”.

His anger at people isn’t the worst part.  It’s his anger at THINGS.  He will go into a violent rage because his iPhone won’t do what he thinks it should do.  His room will get trashed.  The phone will bounce off the wall several times.  (Yes, to the point that drywall work is required) and he actually PAINTS his frustration on his bedroom wall.  (I’ll demonstrate this shortly).

So his girlfriend (that he LOVES and wants to MARRY) apparently requires that he install a security camera so that he can see what she is doing when he isn’t home, found said camera yesterday and threw it through his flat screen.

ALL of this happened while I was at work yesterday and by the time I got home, she was there and all was good and it was as though nothing had happened.  And he was in LOVE with her.

The other night, as I lay sleeping, I awoke to one of Larry’s rages at 2:30 in the morning.  Keep in mind that my alarm clock(s) start to go off around 4:30 and I try to be in bed by 10:30.  Things were bouncing off the walls.  There was screaming.  There was cussing.  More bouncing of shit on walls.  Finally, around 3:30, there was silence and I went back to sleep.  For an hour.

I awoke as I usually do.  Made my gigantic cup of coffee and put the rest in my thermos.  Dressed and walked out into the hall.  Larry’s bedroom door was open, the light was on and he was passed out, face down on the bed.  There were nails on the floor in the hallway.  The room looked just a bit like this:

Ok, it looked JUST like that, because that’s it.

What, you ask could have caused such a rage? Let me explain. Or more accurately, let me let Larry explain since he likes to paint his frustrations on the wall.

At least he didn’t get it as a tattoo.

Yep. He lost his remotes.

I hate to laugh but . . . no I don’t.

That is only a tidbit of what life with Larry is like.  I moved in here in November of last year.  That makes, what?  6 months?  In that 6 months, my rent has gone up twice.  Once because Dayton left and again because the landlord apparently did not know that Larry would have roommates, so he raised the rent to account for it.  Because, apparently, the State of Colorado says he can.  My rent has DOUBLED since I got here.

In that time I have also seen the fire department 3 times and the sheriff’s department twice.  One time because Larry threatened with flagrant violence THE PEOPLE THAT INSTALLED THE BREATHALYZER THAT STARTS HIS CAR because his car wouldn’t start.  It’s important to note here that he had been drinking, and much like his iPhone, the breathalyzer functioned properly, it was the moron at the controls that fucked it up.

As for the fires, I can visually verify both incidents.  We’ll start with the garage.  As some of you may know, Meth addicts “tweak”.  They go for days without sleep and they do  . . . shit.  I don’t know how else to describe it.  They clean.  The fix things.  They work on stuff.

Back in the day, it was called “tinker”.  My grandfather used to tinker in the shop all day long.  He made bird feeders.  Fixed the tractors.  Whatever, but he was sober and it needed to be done.  Meth addicts “tweak”.  They fix stuff that isn’t broken.  They take shit apart because it has screws in it.  They put stuff together because it needs the screws put back in.  Larry also has this weird one that he likes to color.  He gets these little black and white pictures and he has about 6,000 markers and he colors them in.  It’s his favorite tweak.

Many, MANY sleepless nights right there.
I think that was 2 days straight.

Anyway, back to the fires. The first one happened as a result of him doing something that required heat. Extreme heat. Apparently the kind that requires a torch. Thankfully for Larry, he had one. An acetylene torch. We’ll just skip the whole fire department visit and I’ll show you this.

Luckily it didn’t blast off and take his head off because then I’d have to wait like a year or more before I could use that shit as comedy material.

The next event (that I can prove) I’m referring to as the “drugs are bad” incident.  Larry, feeling malnourished and apparently wasn’t seeing well, decided he needed to make some carrots.  Yep.  Carrots.  He put them on the stove and proceeded to (after 3 days of being awake) go to sleep.  This is the result after he “repaired” the damage:

The handle has been repainted with “appliance paint”. It as actually irrevocably black.

That fire reached all the way to the ceiling, destroyed the microwave and smelled for two fucking weeks. Larry thinks his paint repair job should do the trick but apparently hasn’t come to the conclusion yet that microwave cooking of a hot dog should not take 20 minutes.

The last fire incident I don’t have pictures of, but suffice it to say that pressure cooker will never be used again.

The funny part of all of this is, Larry knows he is a danger. He knows that he will go back to jail at some point for something. We all know he will. If his heart doesn’t explode during one of his rages.

I need to be fair to Larry. He is a good human being. When he is sober. He will give the shirt off his back to anyone that needs it. He will give you every dime he has to help you even if it leaves him destitute. He will feed you, shelter you and protect you. He will be your friend to the end of the world.

When he is sober. Unfortunately, that is not the case right now.

I have paid my rent and utilities in full and on time every month. Hall has done the same.

The electric bill is over $1000 overdue. The internet bill is over $200 overdue. The cable bill is over $400 overdue. We paid. Where did it go?

It’s up there. In those pictures. Colored in. Up his nose.

God help him, but I gotta go.

Sad note to close on, so I won’t. Tomorrow I move in with Kenny. Also recovering from alcoholism, but a guy I have been a roommate with before. We are the best of friends and we are a good match for each other. We hold each other accountable and we relate. We’re the same age and we grew up with the same bullshit. We’ll do fine.

And also, he’s an idiot . . .so some GREAT material!

I’m sorry I don’t get to post as often, but it sure is good to be back.

Kids, say NO to drugs!

Say YES to Skittles!!



Facebook post of the day:

This was a Turn Back pic of a friend of mine, currently on Facebook and I went to school with her in high school. Had a MAD crush on her. The things we find out too late. FUCK you, Elvis!!

4 thoughts on “If life wasn’t this funny, I’d be bored off my ass

  1. Wow. So glad you’re getting the hell out of there! Gotta disagree the vibrating washing machine was a bad thing. That could have been put to good use. ; )

  2. That was funny and sad! I know about alcohol and heroin addiction. I had it in my family. They are recovered or recovering is the proper term I believe because it is one day at a time. Doesn’t matter if it has been years. Some wicked shit! So glad you are moving. So HAPPY you are back blogging and back to the Eric we know and love! Yes, I peed before reading!! Hugs and love my friend!

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