The Bush Tower Of Piza

“Hi, my name is Naudia, and my mother is an alcoholic.” “Hi, Naudia,” everyone says back in unison. My mother became an alcoholic when I was the age of 7/8. Her relationship of 13 years ended and she apparently couldn’t cope, so she started drinking and gambling. This stayed current for almost the rest of my teenage and adult years, to current times. However, the story I am telling today is one of the grossest stories you will find on this site I believe.

Her poison was bush beer (cheap) and bottles of screwdrivers (the cheap ones that are gross but fuck you up) She switched to boxed wine because it was cheap and got her drunk faster I believe. I mean my mother could chug wine. (Chill bumps) Now because of her condition, she is back to beer.

So My mother (she hates I call her that too, “moooothhheeerrr she would say it, sounds so pompous Naudia!” So my mother lol used to go and buy those like 30 packs of bush for like 16$ at the local drive-thru. Like legit 2 minutes from our trailer.

I didn’t have to really pick up after her till I was a teenager so we will skip to that part. This is when we lived in the duplex. By this time I was somewhere in my teenage years.

She drank every day. On her days off she would start somewhere 3 to 5 and by 7 or 8 she would be drunk as a skunk, as I would then try to avoid her at all cost. I found it super annoying when she was drunk and never really got over it.

Anyways she would call for me to come and get her a beer. Now please know she was closer to the kitchen and would call me to come to do it. I would get her a new one and I would watch the mountain of beer cans stack up.

Oh ya, when she worked she drank from the time she came home till the time she passed out. She was an LPN, worked 40 hours a week, so basically a functional 12 hr days, 40 hours a week, alcoholic.

Anyways she would make me pick up and throw all the cans away but before I could I had to remove the tabs as there was some recycling thing the neighbors participated in that she helped for. Boy did they love her.

So I would throw them all away only to find the dreaded PHLEM can!!!! (Insert puke emoji here)

This can of beer was dreaded and would often be avoided at all costs. My mother has a condition (called smoking and drinking for years) where she gets what I call hogalogis yes that’s the word. She would hack up some phlegm all loud and spit it in a can.

She would use the same can until I threw it away, or she thought it was full enough. Um, fucking gross! Then she would put cigarette butts out in there too. Well, you couldn’t just put it in the trash you had to empty them and save the can for her to recycle to get more beer! Omg, I hated this part so bad. 

Still to this day, she has a hogalogy can next to her bed and her desk where she spends most of her time.

Thanks for the read. Let me know how I did!

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