Before I decided to quit drinking this past Monday morning I had at least a week of experiences I didn’t actually regret. In fact, I was quite proud of the parties I assisted in throwing and their overall success. Unfortunately, the 24 hours of substance consumption after the last celebration led to a lot of “questionable decisions” and “attempted murders” that quite audibly indicated that I need to make some changes in my life. I’m not sure if it was the fact that I had been drinking for two days straight, or all that caffeine or whatever was on that sweet tart they gave me, but that is neither here nor there. What really matters is that, at the dawn of my 23rd year (I just turned 22, which means it’s the end of the 22nd year? Okay class, moving on) I have accepted the challenge that every adult must face after college: a big fat self-induced reality check.
At first I was all
But then I was like
because unless my tolerance goes back down to non jabba-the-hut levels and I learn to drink less like an Orca and more like human being, I’m probably going to end up like Amy Winehouse who died at 27 from alcohol withdrawal. Plus I could end up “hurting the people I care about” which is, of course, unacceptable.
Fear not, it is only temporary. It’s not a matter of “getting sober” but is rather a glimpse at the world of self control that will allow me to keep doing what I’m doing for years, only better. Don’t work harder, work smarter! …as it were.
In addition to the brain cells I plan on repairing in this process, I hope to lose the beer tummy* I acquired over the course of 2011, via single-handedly supporting such ambitious international companies as Jose Cuervo and Modelo Especial.
*i have not reached belly status quite yet, fuckyouverymuch
So far, I already have leads on at least three real jobs I’d love to have and started going to the gym again. I went to a bar for an entire evening and managed to only drink ginger ale, until afterwards when I went home to four trusty bong rips. I also found out that if all you eat is salad for three days your poop will actually turn green. These are all great things.
Tomorrow night there’s a dance party at Pulse, some sort of a continuation of Moe and Jane’s birthday party but really it’s just going to be fun. I am going to do my very, very best to show everyone that I am not actually Godzilla, and that I can still be the life of the party even while my liver is on vacation in the Hamptons.