Over here, nachos are made of coleslaw

I put a lot of effort into finding the only bar on this island that shows live sport. And when they got there, instead of the Dogs versus Water Snakes game, they played the Storm versus Drag Queens game from last week. So, of course, I had to console myself with some nachos.

They looked like this:


That’s cabbage, mayonnaise… some chicken, I dunno. They called it Tex Mex. It’s more like Tex Fucked. I’ll come back tomorrow and edit that to be funnier.

It won’t be a long entry tonight, because I’m already 12 beers in (the majority paid for by a couple of lovely Darwin chaps I ran into while trying to watch the football).

In saying that, as far as the increase in my drinking goes, I feel myself sliding further into a dark hole, and I’m cool with that. I’m just happier when I’m drunk, even with the negative consequences.  I know that I’ve lost relationships and work opportunities because of it, but I wouldn’t for one second take it all back. And if it’s all going to get worse, and all things indicate yes, then that’s alright, too. It’s just the way it is.

Now, where’s my fucking beer?

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