Death of a Teenage Dirtbag

Yesterday was my 20th birthday ending my teenage years. I am no longer a teenage dirtbag(Wheatus), I am just a dirtbag now. Here is how I celebrated this melancholy date:

• Got sick
• Went to the S-3 shop to cough and sneeze on everyone's computers and phones to spread my illness
• Sat in the rain for two hours trying to think of how to celebrate; all my friends are in the field
• Took a nap
• Started drinking
• Chatted with friends online
• Contemplated seeking help for my alcoholism(Someone tried to convince me, cannot remember who)
• Decided I will seek help for my alcoholism when my life gets REAL shitty
• Determined I would blow a .20 before midnight for my 20th(buying that breathalyzer was a bad idea)
• Gave bad advice/suggestions to Brownie, Mulan, Poon Boy(though he had worse ideas)
• Finished my bottle of Martell
• Blew a .20 at 11:30 pm
• Became enraged that someone stole my idea for the koala hug
• Looked at pictures of exes and think about failed relationships; fall into depression
• Made Brownie tell me a story to subdue my depression; it worked; she did a good job
• Decided to drink beer to calm my rage
• Blacked out somewhere around 2 am
• Woke up to my team leader calling me on the phone; I am an hour late for work
• I blow into my breathalyzer to see if I am good enough to drive my truck to the office; I blow a .15 at 10 am, guess not
• I walk to my office; I realize I am in no condition to operate a motor vehicle(Good thing I have that breathalyzer)
• Contemplate seeking help for my alcoholism
• Finished two hours of paperwork in 30 minutes; determined I do NOT have a drinking problem
• It is 11 am; I blow a .13; feeling less drunk and more hungover

Being sick and hungover makes me want to die. Right now I really wish a 40 mike mike would blow my head open. I cannot wait to go home and REALLY celebrate with my friends.

Have an airborne day,

565 Airborne, out.