Booze In The Baby Bottle

March 20, 2008 / Posted by:

Steve-O has left the looney bin and is now in rehab seeking treatment. He has taken to his MySpace to write a long ass blog about how he got into booze and drugs. They have computers in rehab? They didn’t have computers on “Celebrity Rehab!” This must be the special kind of rehab where you can check your e-mail and do drugs in the bathroom. Steve-O’s post is longer than Paris Hilton’s hook nose, but here’s some of it:

“I know I was always powerless over alcoholism, because it had such a grip on Mom’s adulthood and my childhood, and I never chose to fight it.”

We were frequently on airplanes and, before Mom and Dad would find themselves in the embarrassing position of being caught by other passengers with a crying baby, I was fed alcohol. Obviously I don’t have recollections from the time when I was a baby, so this account is pieced together from vague memories of being told stories that are
similar or exactly the same. Mom’s alcoholism truly reared its ugly head when I was eight and nine years old, it was in 1983 that she lied to the family about having lymph node cancer so that she would have an explanation for staying in bed drunk at all hours.”

“I can’t believe I just called out my own dead Mom for what’s surely the worst
lie she ever told. I also can’t believe I ever picked up my first drink on my own after the way alcohol ruined her life. God, I miss my Mom.”

“All you fucking things are good for is dying. I’m not ready to die. I’m ready to live. I’m ready to breathe (properly, even). I’m ready to fall in love. I’m ready
to become ready to start a family. I’m ready to be happy, fulfilled and meaningful. Maybe I’ll see you fukkers if and/or when I’m ready to die.”

Rehab really does bring out the deep shit in you. Here I thought rehab was just a place to meet hot dudes and have sex in the storage room. It sounds like he’s working the steps by writing on MySpace. How fucking…douchey? Hopefully, he will get well, get married, get the 3-bedroom house with the white picket fence and completely disappear. My only advice to Steve-O is to move out of Hollywood.

Giving booze to babies is ok as long as it’s top shelf bourbon with a little leche. Joooooooking. My uncle used to give him Tecate all the time when I was a child. That explains a lot.

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