“Even the wankers on the site wouldn’t drink that; that’s worse than meths.”
(Fun game. Consume every time you read the word ‘drink’. Have one for reading the word ‘drink’. Oh…have another, then.)
I like to drink.
Not that much mind.
Not any more, at least.
I still have the odd night where I drink a whole lot more than I should and, somehow, end up naked in my bed except for my shoes and a beanie and clutching my shoulder bag which has a box of fish and chips in it (true story)…
…but nights like those are incredibly rare nowadays. I simply don’t drink like that any more.
At least…I try not to drink like that.
I’ve got what’s known in the medical profession as “Murtaugh Syndrome”. It’s an illness that acts as an alert system, reminding one that ones’ advancing age makes it difficult to successfully complete certain activities that would have been a breeze when one was younger.
Or, in layman’s terms, it makes one “too old for this shit”.
And it’s true.
Hangovers seem to last for days, I talk a bunch of shit to people who I don’t really know and I get all super-depressed when I get too drunk and things don’t go my way. It’s not pretty. There have been times where I’ve walked (read; ‘stumbled’) from one end of the city to another in a drunken stupor simply because I didn’t want to be proven wrong about something…I think.
But, sweet Judas Priest, am I glad it’s only drinking.
I’m glad I’m not one of those guys who are crushing up an E (or equivalent drug in pill form) on a toilet seat and snorting it through a five-dollar note (yeah…all class).
That’s not to say that I condemn it. I mean…it’s a little hardcore to be doing it all the time like a raver from the 90’s…but whatever floats your boat or finds your lost remote, kids.
It’s just…it’s pretty sad when I see someone my age walking around chewing their face off and typing on tiny keyboards at the sides of their body. They look like me…they sound like me…but they act like 18 year-old boys who’ve just lost their virginity. It’s more than a little sad…it’s truly pathetic.
Do I feel sorry for them? Should I?
The answer; meh.
As far as I’m concerned, it’s their right to act like that. Who am I to tell them to grow up? Hell…I’m even a little jealous of them. But just a little bit…
But drinking is my only vice. Fuck; I’ve even entertained the idea of giving it up as some kind of experiment…but then I laugh and wonder why something so silly would pop into my head.
I don’t drink that often any more. I usually save it for special occasions like birthdays or weddings or ‘my-friend-has-come-from-overseas-and-I-need-to-celebrate’…things.
But it’s still fun to drink.
And, sometimes, I’m overwhelmed with the urge to drink a little too much and get a little stupid.
Who needs a drink?
