Thursday, March 5, 2015

Why I Shouldn't/can't Drink (beer)

Well...
Reason #1: (see above mess that is the "title" of this "post"...slashes, gratuitous parentheses, wack punctuation...ugh)
Reason #2: see reason #1 (a pattern emerges, huh?)

when will I learn??
One (one!!) full pint (two beers that I couldn't finish=nearly one actually consumed) and I wake up at 2am thinking I must be having a heart attack.**

And decide blogging (not *drunk* blogging per se, but very tired yet can't sleep blogging) is the better course of action than, I don't know, calling an ambulance??

I know these chest pains are just my body's way of reminding me that while Hopdevil is delicious, just one will give me heartburn & disrupt my sleep.

And this is why I (typically) don't drink.

Every once in a while, I break form and imbibe just a little bit...inevitably, even a little bit is too much.

Alcohol makes me feel really, really exceptionally shitty.
I don't like feeling this way.
That's why I don't drink.
No big secret, no issues...I just can't handle even a little bit anymore.

This'll be a fun one to revisit in the light of day.
I guess I'll go eat an entire sleeve (roll?) of Tums & read US Weekly because what else is there at 2:41am?

I've been thinking a lot about social drinking and the culture of buzzed/drunk driving...but, that's another post for another (more lucid, less tired) time.
How about you?
How often & how much do you imbibe?
Am I the only one who literally can't handle their liquor (or beer, as it were), the older I get? 
(full disclosure: I am certain my anti-depressant/anti-anxiety meds have something to do with this, which is probably a good thing)


**beer math is much harder than shoe math (no wonder 4th grade homework confounds me)


Completely unrelated, but worth mentioning:
I am such a jerk.
I forgot my best friend's 40th birthday last week & didn't realize my mistake til 3 days too late.

Also, completely unrelated (but, it would be weird to devote an entire post to):
My dad has a girlfriend. 
I get weird looks (sympathetic?) when I tell people about her (when I'm asked how my dad is doing & I'm like, "He's great...he's busy/he's climbing/he has a girlfriend...").
Guys, it's cool.
I'm fine.
I like her...like, genuinely like her.
They clearly make each other very happy and really, what more could I want for my dad?
Seriously...relax.
It's cool. 
Trust me, my mom would not want him to be alone (I think she'd be more pissed about the black wheels and ice climbing sticker on "her" car).

Wow, this post sure went off the rails.
See what I mean???




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