~Mr. B.

It's not that I don't want to write, I just can't seem to get my thoughts into anything resembling sentences, lately.

I had a few beers, last night, and a few shots of Vodka. Mr. Boston Vodka, to be more specific. It's cheap, and the label resembles one of the tattoos on my left leg. The way I see it, it must be fate. Right. Anyway, I drank and I got sick into the toilet for a while. It cracks me up. What the MS does to my brain feels exactly like a hangover. So, I have no clue whether or not I actually have a hangover or not. Sort of like not knowing whether or not I had MS for the last 23 years. Alcohol has been a part of my diet for quite some time. How was I supposed to know whether or not I actually had problems with my eyes, legs, balance, or speech?

Fuck it, if I'd known, I'd probably have drank a lot more. The way I see it, if you're gonna go out, go out with a smile. My beer never judged me, and was always there for me when I was down. Mr. Boston just helps out when Mr. Beer is scarce.

Boy, am I ever dehydrated. That is not the MS.