Tuesday, 24 September 2013


VERBOTEN! Drinking on a weekday with my brats will no longer be permitted under my new healthful living plan. (Editor's note: Good luck with that.)

For some bizarre reason that either means I’m growing up or I'm just too sober to think straight, I have decided to give up drinking. E-E-E-E-E-EEEP! Whoa, major panic attack. Let me rephrase that: I have decided to “cut back” on drinking. No drinking during the week. At all. No Bailey’s in my coffee, no wine with dinner, no wine after dinner, no gulping my friends’ cocktails when their back is turned (not that I would ever do that, but if I did, would it be a problem? I’m basically saving you from yourself).

It's not that I think there’s anything wrong with drinking, in fact liquor brings out the best in me: after two glasses of a good red, I find myself absolutely hilarious, brilliant and gorgeous. Some of my favourite authors were complete souses, and they turned out just fine ... until they died.
It's just that I don't like the way that, after years of working in a high-stress field, that one glass after work has slowly crept up to two glasses. And then two glasses but the glasses are bigger so who am I kidding, might as well just make it three glasses and be honest with myself. ("Honesty? I'll drink to that!" *clink!*)

Then there’s the whole ‘empty calories’ thing and the healthful living thing. When one has a stubborn five or ten pounds that won’t budge and one is incapable of saying no to anything that's been put on a plate and labelled "food," saying no to drink is a good option.

So far you may be saying, "So friggin' what? You're trying to make me feel guilty for swilling a beer while I read your drivel? I CAN'T READ THIS SHIT SOBER!" But here is what this means to you: you may notice a sharp decline in bitchiness on this blog. Or a sharp incline. I really don’t know yet, I just know that when I drink my ‘sassy juice,’ someone (usually Chris Brown) walks away with flesh wounds. We shall see. So far it's been two days and I have to say I feel ... empty. Tea has failed to establish itself as a satisfying stand-in and coffee keeps me awake all night thinking of ways to get out of this stupid no-drinking-till-Friday pledge I've made. Jesus. What was I thinking? I must be mad! *slams empty coffee mug down on editor's skull* EDITOR! Fill this bitch up with some goddam booze!

EDITOR'S NOTE: Shan't. You made me promise.
MY NOTE: Hey, look! Isn't that the neighbour mowing her lawn in the nude? *grabs wine bottle, locks self in bathroom* It's not my fault he's an idiot.