So guess what? I have official given up the art of drink.
That’s right, I am going pretty much tea total for the New Year (that assuming the Mayans got it wrong) and starting 2013 with a new spring in my step and a wedge in my wallet.
After a rather heavy session last weekend I managed to lose my shoe, my hoodie, my new gloves that I was already pissed off with due to paying the same price for a fingerless pair as the regular gloves; I also twisted my knee and cracked 2 ribs… the worst bit is that I cannot recall doing any of this past a certain time in the night; total blackout.
Also, when I got home I was rather abusive to my girlfriend who had done nothing but complain (quite fairly) that I was being noisy and she had to go to work that morning.
And the final kick in the bollocks, the real tipping point in all of this is that I managed to spend around £120 in the process; FUCK THAT SHIT! £120 just so I can forget what the fuck I am doing, almost put myself in hospital and also so that I can feel like complete shit for a couple of days, not to mention the pain I am in having bust ribs. I can’t sleep, can’t work, fuck I can barely breath properly; nah I think my drinking days are long behind me.
And I really don’t care what anybody thinks about this because I know a few of my mates will say ‘that’s gay’ or ‘it won’t last’ well so what if it is and so what if it doesn’t; it’s not fucking up to you. I couldn’t give a flying monkey fuck if you drink yourselves into comas every weekend for the rest of your lives, all I’m saying is that it’s not for me anymore. I don’t want to put myself into a situation where I end up getting stabbed or run over and have no idea how it even happened, or worst yet, ending up hurting somebody else because I have lost it in a fit of drunken cuntishness.
I don’t want to have to go through the process of listening to my girlfriend explain to me over the phone the reason she doesn’t want to come home after work because I said some horrible shit when I was pissed up, and I don’t want her getting a phone call from the hospital telling her that I have been found face down in the river.
So I think that I have explained why I feel the need to give up the drink and I think I have put across a good enough argument not to have the piss taken out of me for not wanting to fuck myself up every weekend.
I shall have a glass of wine with meals every now and then, I might even have a can of beer when the football is on from time to time; I might even have a glass of Bailey’s on Christmas eve night but I am defiantly putting the brakes on the binge drinking, especially the shots; oh lord, the fucking shots.
I have got to that age now where hangovers seem to last for ever; not just a morning and a fry up then back to the pub, these bastards seem to want to stay with me for a good couple of days, and the get progressively worse each time, for example: I got drunk on Friday night, it is now Tuesday morning and I still feel as rough as a badger’s arsehole. Oh, to be 21 again.
But I think I have chosen the right age to give up the creature, a sensible age, not an age where I will be told to give up by a
doctor or an age where I will have missed out on some pretty epic parties and cracking life changing experiences. I have had my moments of madness and fun times and that’s not to say that I won’t have any fun in the future, I’m just saying that I don’t have to do it with a shit load of booze inside of me anymore. I would rather have a bottle of wine and a pizza on a Friday night and spend the rest of the weekend doing stuff than get smashed and spend a few days in bed because I am hung over and skint. I would rather have money in my pocket now to be able to do stuff than have a cool story about vomiting that I really can’t recall anyhow.
I also fucking hate really drunk people, they piss me off, they piss everybody off and I don’t want to be that guy anymore. I would rather indulge in some good conversation than be loud and shout complete bollocks at people; and it is complete bollocks. No drunk ever talked anything other than complete shit when they were full steam fucked; and you can keep all that Dylan Thomas crap as well; for every witty thing he ever came out with I bet there were a hundred other rants that were pretty much just noises, gargled nonsense and the sound of him pissing himself in the public bar.
“My education was the liberty I had to read indiscriminately and all the time, with my eyes hanging out” he said as he violently shit his pants and fell over a table on to a screaming woman.
So yeah, I quit; I am a quitter, I have quit drinking… now all I need to do is kick the smokes and the drugs and I should live forever right?