Thursday, November 11, 2004

I am feeling conflicted about my drinking. On one hand, I'm ashamed that I seem to require alcohol to have a good time, and that I have a reputation as a boozy lush who always has a drink in her hand. But on the other, I seem to require alcohol in all sorts of social situations: to paper over awkward gaps in conversation ("Ohhhkay, I'll get me another drink!"); when I'm depressed about my stagnant career and love life ("sweet liquor eases the pain!"); and just as a social ritual (Friday nights are designated drinking times, and I frequently meet my friends around 5pm for 'coffee', which is actually beer!).

It's also been my habit to denigrate my non-drinking friends with such chauvinistic terms as "pussy" and "soft cock". But really, who's sadder? Them for being available for drinking only on Fridays and Saturdays, and then only one because they have to drive? Or me, for getting pissed most nights of the week while abandoning my car at work or in, appropriately enough, loading zones?

There's this crappy dance song at the moment, which a Google search informs me is by an outfit charmingly called Spancox, that goes:

Monday night: to the club
Tuesday night: to the club
Wednesday night: what a headache
but I went to the club
Thursday night: to the club
Friday night: didn't wanna go
But my friend Michelle called me on the phone
And so I went to the club

You could say the same thing about the last couple of weeks for me:

Sunday night: I got drunk
Monday night: I didn't drink
Tuesday: I had to work on Cup Day
but after that, I got drunk
Wednesday night: I got drunk
Thursday night: didn't wanna drink
But my friend Ethan was going away
And so I went and got drunk

This week, I drank alcohol on Tuesday night (art opening) and Wednesday night (magazine launch and Ari's non-going-away drinks). Tonight was going to be a designated alcohol-free night, but fuck it, I'm on a roll, it's time to go solo.

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