Ask Shameless's Disgusting, Self-Absorbed Alcoholic
Frank Gallagher's got advice, but that doesn't mean you should take it.
For some reason, my kids don't seem to like me. They don't want to spend time with me. They kick me out of the house. Repeatedly. Sometimes, when I do manage to sneak back in to sleep, I find myself waking up outside in an alley and I just know it's my eldest ingrates who move me when I'm passed out. What's a man to do?
You and I have a lot in common, my friend. But unlike you, I've already figured out a way to mitigate the baseless hate that stems from my offspring. Ready for it? Okay, here's how I do it: I black out. Bad day? Drink it away, I say! Just because some things might not have gone your way doesn't mean you have to remember them. Keep drinking until it a guarantee that you'll black out and you'll never again have to worry about remembering the poor treatment your kids subject you to. Heck, one time I even got so drunk I called the DFS to report my kids, blacked out, forgot about it, and the kids got put into foster care but I ended up getting back into the house, which was my whole goal in the first place. Ah, blackouts. Can't recommend them enough!
When are you going to pay your goddamned bar tab? I have multiple mouths to feed here!
Sick Of This Shit, Frank
After all I've done for you? After all of the patrons that I've brought into your good establishment? You're going to charge me? I'm part of the entertainment, aren't I? And here I thought this was a quid pro quo relationship. I'm just going to have to start charging for my services if that's not the case.
After years of trying, I finally achieved my life-long goal of losing my virginity and getting knocked up, but now my controlling sister/legal guardian wants me to get an abortion. She keeps saying that I can't handle having a baby, because I won't be able to take care of it or feed it and stuff, but that's totally not true -- I've been running our illegal daycare for years and I totally make strangers give up their seats on the L for the sack of potatoes I already carry around, dressed like it's a real baby. Also, we just got kicked out of our house, so there's that. What should I do, Dadd-- err, "Disgusting, Self-Absorbed Alcoholic"?
Redheaded Maybe Momma
First off: stop whining. You've struck gold, kid! That baby inside you will take care of you for years if you play your cards right. Here's what you do: get yourself two or three baby daddies. Maybe more, if you think you can handle it. Then you hit them up for child support. That takes care of the kid, and more than takes care of whatever hard stuff you're going to need in order to deal with having the kid. As for the housing -- just shack up with the most gullible of the baby daddies. Then you can pawn off childcare and escape to your neighborhood watering hole all day. And don't forget to register for welfare, and maybe look for opportunities to collect social security from relatives who are only technically dead. Just don't tell the government about it. Problem solved!
I too, am a disgusting, self-absorbed alcoholic and now they tell me I need a liver transplant in order to keep living. Only catch: I won't be able to drink after I get this new liver. Is there even a point to keep living if I can't keep drinking?
Been there, done that. Or rather, didn't do that. See, after my transplant, I had my youngest -- is he my youngest? -- spring me from the hospital, take me to the beach, and hand me a bottle just as soon as we were out of sight. And guess what happened? Nothing. After nearly a year of having to get myself drunk through my rectum (you surely must know that feeling), I finally was able to swallow alcohol without feeling like there was a raging fire going on inside of me. That bourbon tasted like the best drink of my life, even if it was just a shitty off-brand. So I say go for it. Get yourself that shiny new liver and then get yourself a can of your favorite poison and enjoy it.