Try to Keep Up, Folks

Remember when I lied to you about having a guest blogger from Always Drunk? It was a good lie. But I can’t live with it anymore. You know I wouldn’t let you go off on a long weekend without a good read. Here she is.

 

 

Try to Keep Up, Folks

By Chuck Baudelaire

 

Hello, friends of the Booklynite! Chuck Baudelaire here. I’m absolutely stoked, pumped, and other vaguely sexual verbs to be coming to you from this page! I never get to write on other people’s blogs. I can’t really blame them. If you’ve been to my blog, you’ve seen that it’s kind of messy and smells a bit like old sausage and tears. I’m a terrible blogkeeper.

 

If you haven’t been to my blog, it’s called Always Drunk, check it out. Don’t mind the stuff on the floor. It’s mostly monkey fur, mixed with pizza crumbs. Oh, and the mountain of empty vodka bottles is, of course, a mountain of empty vodka bottles. I’m not big on symbolism.

 

That is what we call cross-platform social media marketing, bitches. Self-promotion over. Oh, except for my Twitter handle: @drunkbaudelaire. And the name of my forthcoming book, which I’d tell you if I’d actually written it yet.

 

This is going well, I think.

 

Anyway, here’s what you need to know about me: I recently cut way back on my coffee consumption after realizing that some unpleasant side effects I had attributed to consuming massive amounts of vodka were actually being caused by consuming massive amounts of caffeine. My hands were chronically shaking, my coordination had decreased, my handwriting had gone to shit, and I was having, um, digestive issues. That’s as much as I’ll say about that. Some of you just met me and don’t want to hear me go on about the sorry state of my poop. I assume. I just met some of you and have no idea what kind of gross stuff you’re into.

 

Long story short: I OD’d on coffee one morning not too long ago. For real. Turns out that’s a thing you can do. I’d made a pot of coffee at work, and it happened that none of my coffee-drinking co-workers were in the office that day, and I ended up drinking pretty much an entire pot of coffee over a couple of hours. Which is not anything I hadn’t ever done before. But this time my body returned a verdict of NOPE and found me guilty of too much fucking caffeine.

 

My entire arm went numb. My fingers were trembling so badly that I literally couldn’t write with a pen. My muscles ached. My legs were bouncing up and down of their own accord. I was afraid I was suffering a heart attack combined with that dancing sickness those people got in Europe in 1518. Fortunately, WebMD assured me that wasn’t a thing, and then blocked me forever for entering such a stupid search term.

 

So I got on some other website designed to convince you that you have all the illnesses and figured out that I was experiencing a toxic dose of caffeine. Fun fact: 400 milligrams of caffeine is considered a safe daily consumption, while 500 milligrams or more is considered “do you have a fucking death wish?” I did some quick calculations (I was doing everything quickly at that point, like a squirrel on speed) and determined that I had hit 500 milligrams fairly early on and just kept on guzzling that black gold until my body started to jump ‘n jive without me.

 

Aside: I made up a joke. Want to hear it? I take my coffee black. I tell people I like my coffee ex-husband style: Bitter and tasteless. I plan to fund my retirement from the millions that Starbucks will pay me would have paid me when I sell them this idea if I hadn’t just given it away for free here. You’re welcome, Starbucks. YOU TOO, WORLD.

 

Where was I? Right, so there I was, buzzing away on caffeine. It was unpleasant in the extreme. It was actually worse than a hangover. When I have a hangover, I can drink coffee and perk myself up a bit. But when I OD’d on caffeine, it wasn’t as if I could swig vodka and expect it to flush out my hyperactive nervous system. For one thing, HR wouldn’t have approved. For another, I don’t keep vodka at work. And if that’s not proof that I’m totally not an alcoholic, I don’t know what is.

 

Therefore, for the remainder of that day, I drank a lot of water and ate a lot of crackers, hoping to either dilute or soak up all the coffee inside me. I know that’s a dumb idea, but no dumber than drinking Sprite when you’ve got a tummy ache, which is what my mom made me do my entire childhood. This is the medical backdrop I’m working against. Against which I’m working. Whatever.

 

I subsequently decided to lay off coffee for a while, or at least until I forgot about the bad caffeine trip I’d been on. And something strange happened. I felt amazing. In my world, feeling amazing qualifies as something strange. Sad, really. But there it was. After a few days I felt calmer, happier, my hands were much steadier, and I noted the aforementioned increase in quality of my bowel movements. Which I’m not going to mention again, because it’s just weird to discuss your poop on someone else’s blog. No more turd talk from me, promise.

 

So that’s where I am. I’ve been drinking coffee maybe every other day, and limiting myself to one or two cups, and it’s been great. In case you were wondering, there was little or no caffeine withdrawal. I’m lucky in that my body is a stoic little bitch. It’s probably just numb from the horrific abuse I’ve given it for forty-mumble years, but it rolls with the punches. No caffeine today? La-la-la. Giving up alcohol for a bit? K. Woke up permanently devoid of your lifelong craving for sugar? Whatevs. (True story, btw.) My body is awesome. Apart from being allergic to every bit of organic matter in Texas. Stupid sinuses. My body sucks.

 

Flash-forward to this morning. After being at work for a couple of hours, I decided I’d like a cup of coffee. So I made a pot, figuring that if I ended up wasting most of it because the office is a bit of a ghost town today, no big deal, IT’S FREE.

 

I had a bit of a self-control issue.

 

I’ve had at least four cups of coffee in the last three hours. I can’t feel my scalp. I see tiny dancing elves out of the corner of my eye. I’m cranked, you guys.

 

And that’s when I decided to write the guest blog post that I promised to the Booklynite several weeks ago. The very blog post you’re reading now.

 

Brought to you by over-caffeination.

 

If you want to know how my coffee-fueled writing differs from my drunk writing, again, visit my blog. You’ll find myriad examples. Come in and clear yourself a spot on the floor.

 

Thanks for reading! Mwah! ß Sloppy wet kiss, no tongue. I have to go poop now.

 

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8 thoughts on “Try to Keep Up, Folks

  1. The one thing I want, nay, need to know: did you think you had St. Vitus’s Dance or did you want to do the Tarantella? One is a neurological condition, the other was people using a harmless spider bite as an excuse to dance and have sex, and I think both were prevalent in 1518–a time when dancing and sex were considered equally sinful, requiring people to use spiders as scapegoats. Or scapespiders.
    I would ask elsewhere but I’ve also been banned from WebMD for reasons that should be obvious.
    Christopher recently posted…It Was A Kick All Right.My Profile

      1. Sorry, I’m a regular at Chuck Baudelaire’s blog and came to read her guest post, although I’m enjoying your work too.
        Christopher recently posted…It Was A Kick All Right.My Profile

        1. No that’s cool, you’re totally welcomed. It’s just your comment was really out of this world and ‘who are you’ was meant like ‘dude, you’re kick ass’, which is a compliment. I’m not good with compliments.

      2. This aritcle is a home run, pure and simple!

    1. Bootsy

      Isn’t WebMD the one with the scapespiders?

      1. *repressing sudden urge to WebMD scapespiders*

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