When I think of drinking, I’m often reminded of Robin Williams’ stand-up act from Live at the Met, when he said ”Ever since I quit drinking, I’ve realized I’m the same asshole, I just have less dents in my car.” I think this quote sums up alcohol use on every level. It’s wonderful as a social lubricant, and occasionally it makes you find the opposite sex more attractive (when normally you might think they look like Jabba the Hut). But for the most part, you wake up in a pool of your own sweat, wearing the clothes you went out in the previous evening.
Now, I haven’t quite abjured the drink all together, but I’m no longer at the glorious fighting weight I used to maintain to drink all-comers under the table. I used to wear my ability to drink on my sleeve as a badge of honor, but those days, much like my devotion to Catholicism, are behind me.
This is starting to sound as if I’m anti-alcohol, which could never be the case. First of all, I’m Irish, so it’s built into my DNA like a microchip into a computer. I’m just saying, in a sad way, that I’m getting old and can’t freakin’ party like I used to. I remember being in High School and this guy I worked with was 28 (my current age), which seemed ancient to me at the time. He used to complain about being hungover at work after a night out. I just thought he was a pussy, to be honest. Now, as it turns out, I’m the pussy. I’m a big giant sloppy wet one.
There is no doubt in my mind I could return to my former glory, but that would require doing even more damage to my already ravaged liver, gaining about 15 to 20 lbs. of pure drinking weight, and probably alienating every single person I know.
There is only one possible solution that I think is feasible. When I turn 65, I’m going to drink and smoke like I did when I was 21. I mean, at that point, who gives a shit if I alienate everyone I know. I’ll only have to deal with them for a few more years. And for some un-Godly reason I live another 20 years, well, good for me, because at least I’ll enjoy the hell out of ‘em.
68′s a short life buddy. At that rate, you might as well drink yourself into oblivion now, you’ll be liver-less at 68!