I might or might not have a drinking problem.

I've only lived in Ohio for a few months, and so far, I'm having a killer time. I've spent most of my life living in Florida, and I miss all of my friends there, but one thing I don't miss is having to deal with an overwhelming buildup of armpit sweat while walking from my front door to my car. Columbus is a hell of a town with so much to offer. But my favorite thing about this place is that Diet Mountain Dew is available on tap at almost every convenience store, as well as the occasional fast food joint.

Lately, I've been drinking a lot of Vault Zero, but Diet Mountain Dew is my favorite soft drink of all time. At one point years ago, I had actually considered getting a Diet Mountain Dew tattoo on my forehead until someone told me that getting a tattoo kinda smarts, so crap on that. At any rate, I'm very excited to live in a town where Diet Mountain Dew is easily accessible in fountain drink form. I actually hadn't enjoyed a drop of soda for the past few days because I'm getting over a cold, so I've been sticking to water and beer. But earlier today, as I was about to drive past the convenience stores of Speedway, I realized that all that was about to change. But for the better or for the worse, I'm still not quite sure.

I walked into Speedway and filled up a 44-ounce cup with (guess what?) Diet Mountain Dew, along with a minimal amount of ice. Another cool thing I've noticed about this part of the country is that the ice in your drink lasts for a very, very long time before it melts. Go figure. I then shelled out my $1.16 (what a bargain!) and walked outside to get into my car in preparation to go run a very important errand.

After my fortnightly visit to Lion's Den Adult Superstore was finally over and done with, It was time to spend the rest of the day in a leisurely fashion. I figured I would head over to the mall, because I've been meaning to buy a calendar, and it's almost the middle of January already, so they should all be on sale by now. Yeah, so I'm a cheapskate, get over it.

As I was about to get out of my car in the parking lot of the mall, I took the last sip left of my delicious drink, and was starting to feel a bit queasy. But I've had my eye on the Brokeback Mountain calendar at the kiosk inside of the mall for a few weeks now, so I figured it was high time to make the dream a reality.

To my disappointment, the calendar I wanted was sold out, but I didn't have more than a few seconds to figure out a plan B before I suddenly realized that it was imperative that I make my way to the mens' room as soon as possible. On my way out of the restroom, I walked by a soda machine and decided to buy myself a 16-ounce bottle of Diet Dr. Pepper. I was already pretty wired, but since Diet Dr. Pepper has less caffeine than Diet Mountain Dew, I figured that everything would be cool. As I took my first sip, I decided that since "Operation: Brokeback Mountain Calendar" turned out to be a bust, it was time to go tool around elsewhere.

By the time I made it out to my automobile, it was beginning to get dark outside, and I was already done with my bottle of Diet Dr. Pepper. It was scrumdidilyumptios, but I was starting to feel a bit freaked out. I was getting so hopped up on caffeine that I wasn't too sure if getting behind the wheel was such a great idea. I then recalled that I still had about half a twelve pack of Vault Zero in the fridge at home, but that just wasn't going to last me through the night, so I got into my car and cautiously headed to Target for another twelve pack.

I only spent about thirty-eight minutes at Target, but I had to hit the pisser exactly seven times before I finally stopped counting. I picked up a Curious George sticker set from the dollar section and a bottle of vitamins before I made my way to the soda aisle. I wanted to have at least two items in my hand before picking up the twelve pack, as to avoid looking like a total junkie. As I walked up to the express lane, I started feeling very uncomfortable about the impending interaction with another human being. But Target has no self-checkout lane, and there was no way in hell that I was going to leave without my twelve pack of Vault Zero, so I prepared myself to bite the bullet and deal with it.

I thought that it might make me feel better if I could greet the guy at the register by his first name, but he wasn't wearing a name tag, which made me feel even more uneasy, so I just gave him the standard "How're you doing tonight?", trying really hard to just act casual.

His reply was, "Hey, man, you sure you really need this twelve pack of Vault Zero?"

Or at least I think it was. At that point, I may have just been hearing things, so I quietly wrapped up my end of the transaction, wished the man with no name a nice night, and got the hell out of the store while the gettin' was good.

I nervously got into my vehicle and headed home, anxious for the moment that I would crack open one of those ice cold cans of Vault Zero that had been chilling in the fridge. And then the unthinkable happened.

I reached into the back seat, tore open the twelve pack of Vault Zero and drank one in my car on the way home from Target. At room temperature, no less.

I was thanking my lucky stars that I had, quite miraculously, managed to avoid any run-ins with the police on the way home as I pulled into my parking spot behind the pad on Tompkins that I share with my longtime friend, Bobby Miller. As I walked in, nobody was home, which led me to the conclusion that this was going to be just another night of Bobby staying out until the crack of dawn, fighting crime in the mean streets of Columbus. Which is just as well, because, as much as I enjoy Bobby's company, this meant that I could drink as much of my Vault Zero as I want to without having to deal with him sneaking concerned glances at me out of the corner of his eye as though he's getting ready to set up an intervention.

So the first thing I did was to shotgun a can of Vault Zero.

That was awesome.

Or at least it was, until about three seconds later, when I found myself in the backyard, firing projectile vomit all over my elbows and socks. And that was fine with me, as it cleared some room in my belly for some more of that succulent Vault Zero.

After about eight or ten more, I figured it would be a pretty good idea to put a lid on it for the night. But for some reason, I found myself being filled with an over-abundance of nervous energy. So I decided to try to do at least three constructive things that would require a fair amount of concentration.

So here's what I've done:

I cleaned the bathroom.

BEFORE

AFTER

I added one of the Curious George stickers I bought at Target to the sticker collection that I recently started on the door to my bedroom.

BEFORE

AFTER

And now, I'm writing this appallingly long winded blog. I'm starting to see fuzzy purple spots and getting way too jittery to type, so I think it would be in my best interest to go to bed at this point.

Although there's not a snowball's chance in hell of me falling asleep anytime within the next few days, my bed would most certainly be the safest place for me to dwell for the time being. If I attempt to do anything else in this condition, I'm liable to hurt myself.

Or worse.