Day 38: Alcohol Withdrawal

So recently I have developed an eye twitch. This is not something particularly new as I usually development them in stressful situations. However, my eye twitch intensified, so I got a little nervous.

Like any other person in the medical industry I logged on to WebMD. Thinking that I had Multiple Sclerosis or a brain tumor, I went right to the symptom checker. Actually I didn't go right to the symptom checker, I made a quick detour to Bye, Bye, Cellulite - which was bullshit . . don't say it unless you mean it.

Now I'm at the symptom checker and I type in "eye twitching". A list of symptom clarifiers comes up. I click on "Involuntary/abnormal movements of the eyelid" which happens to be exactly what I am experiencing. I click go and what comes up under conditions? Alcohol intoxication or withdrawal. I shit you not! So I google "alcohol withdrawal symptoms" and what comes up? Involuntary/abnormal movements of the eyelid among other things.

That's some bullshit. I'm officially going through alcohol withdrawal. I can't wait to start drinking again so my eye will stop twitching. Fucking A!


I had a conversation recently that went a little like this:

Oz: That woman is so old she was around when the original American flag was sewn
Becs: Yeah, by Betsy Johnson.
Me: Nope, wrong Betsy. Betsy Ross. Although Betsy Johnson does look like she's about 230 years old.

You can't hate on Betsy J., she makes a mean pair of undies.

Day 37: When I was drunk . . . .

A list of things I used to do when I was drunk:

1. Drunk dial - I know, everyone does this
2. Make out with random strangers - I'd do this sober if the mood struck me
3. Watch this video - funniest shit ever

4. Run through the streets of State College without a shirt on or sometimes in nothing but a scarf
5. Eat an entire pizza by myself
6. Hang out with homeless people and buy them burgers from McDonalds
7. Do rails off the ass of a stripper . . . not really, it was off of my student government binder with Barnes
8. Do shots of tequila off of Kellen's stomach
9. Go to work drunk
10. Drink pitchers of Long Island Iced Tea
11. Drink wine from a box
12. Polish off a bottle of Boone's Farm over lunch then go to class . . . or skip class and go the bar
13. Drink Night Train with Capps
14. Fall on the dance floor
15. Sing Leaving on a Jet Plane
16. Give love humps - this stopped after some guy named Bob exposed himself in Kate and Geanny's dorm room
17. Keg stands
18. Do "waterfalls" with a bottle of Jack - no mixer- God, I was way cooler then!

Day 35 and 36: Hello, My name is V-Lo and I'm addict

Day 35

Sobriety has been a bit of a journey. I've discovered so much about myself and one thing that I realized is that I'm an addict. All of my life I have been surrounded by drug addicts and I realize for the first time that I too am an addict. Some would say that I'm addicted to being in control, to having things in order, alcohol, and maybe to always being right. What I have really been addicted to for about three years (on and off) was a person. For arguments sake we'll call him the Gemini. I've shook him off twice once for someone that I truly fell in love with, a person that I thought was perfect and who I inevitably lost and a second time more recently. I was excited at the prospect of something new and unknown. Of course that all went to shit when I get an phone call from him recently. He shared some really great news with me and it put me on shaky ground. I'm not going to hold my breath but I can be hopeful.

Speaking of holding my breath . . . on Friday I was waiting for the subway home to Jersey City. The train pulls up and there is an empty car between to relatively full cars. Now, if you are from NYC you know this means one of two things: the heating/cooling is messed up or there is an extremely smelly homeless person on the train. I took a peak and didn't see anyone on the train but I didn't really feel up for taking a gamble so I hopped on one of the adjacent cars. As the train left the station I expected train goers from the sparse car to move into our car. When I didn't see that happen I figured there was nothing wrong with that train car and thought I would move into it at the next station. Well when the train made it to the 9th street station there was a mad exodus from the train car.  Usually when a train car is unbearable people will exit at the end of the car while the train is moving. Since that didn't happen I was kind of intrigued. So as the sparse car refugees entered our subway car I turned down my iPod to find out what had driven them from the less empty car comforts.  Well apparently a homeless guy with a sense of humor took a dump at each end of the subway car blocking all in transit exits. So those poor people had to suffer on full train stop. 

Day 36

According to my OB/GYN god is not punishing me for being a slut. It's actually quite the opposite. When you are not having sex very often it can affect the hormones in your body leading to heavy and difficult periods. So, yes, I need to handle that. She told me "to make friends." I told her that I gave up drinking so I'm not feeling all that social. She responded with, "Oh, no, that's not good."

14 days  . . .

Conversation with my friend Chantel

Me: I really need a glass of wine, won't someone give me a fucking glass of wine?

Chantel: You can do it!

Me: I know, I know. I just have to make the last 14 days

Chantel: I'll just drink the wine for you and you can smell my breath.

Me: Thank you, that is awfully kind of you.

Chantel: You can even kiss me!

Me: That's a sign of a good friend. I'm so glad I have a friend like you.

Day 34 - Ying's Birthday

So today was Ying's birthday. She and I spent the day lunching, getting mani/pedi's and doing some light shopping. 

Around 5:30 we headed over to Duke's to meet up with some friends for a celebratory dinner. 

We pulled up to a nice little table in the bar area. I ordered Ying a Pina Colada and a virgin Strawberry Daiquiri for myself. I was going to order a Pina Colada as well but I was afraid that I might mix our drinks up and I didn't want to take any chances. I sucked that thing back like it was filled with 151.

This was my first group outing since my sobriety decree and I'd say it went well. I realize that I can still be fun and entertaining while also being sober. My friend Robin proceeded to tell me that it would be impossible for me to just have one drink. So after my fifty days sober I will do 50 days just one drink. Of course I will be spending most of my time at Arriba, Arriba drinking their bath tub sized margarita's. She said just one drink, she didn't specify how big that drink might be.

Last night was almost like I was drinking. When I went down to the ladies room I noticed that my eyeliner was smudged and my shirt was a little disheveled. It was like I'd been pounding Jack&Ginger's all night. I felt sort of normal  for the first time in 34 days!! Some cute guys flirted with me in the bathroom line.  That was a plus.

After dinner I headed home while the rest of the group headed to a bar.  I have had the worst cramps of my life. I think it's god's way of punishing me for being such a slut.

I received an interesting phone call this evening. It was great phone call actually, almost too good to be true. But it got me thinking that if you just chill out and let go, things will come together.

This was my horoscope today: You are at the point in life when you can sit back and relax -- so why don't you. 

Well Mr. Horoscope, I am trying.

Day 33: I'm so fucking LAME!!

Sobriety is ruining my life.

My blog posts are getting boring. I'm getting boring.

Ugghhh. I so need to drink.

I had the day off from work. Now, if I was drinking I would have gone out last night, got tanked and woke up this morning around 11am. Last night I stayed up watching LMN till 3am. I woke up at 9am and started doing laundry and then

went and ran errands. I came home and watched a Gay-cia flick (Here On Earth - terrible Gay-cia) ate a salad then went back out to finish my errands.

I spent my evening watching ABC's Thursday night line up. (Aside - Owen Hunt on Grey's is fucking hot! and In the Motherhood is prit-tey funny)

So back to the many reason as to why I am lame. I bring nothing to the table sober. I'm not funny or sarcastic. I'm terribly nice which as most of you know isn't really my thing. Sobriety makes me a little calm and let's be real . . .I'm not particularly calm.

Fuck my life!!!!!!!!!! I have 17 days. All I want is a crisp glass of Chardonnay.

So tomorrow I am taking Ying out for her birthday. Maybe I can be social and pick up a guy . . . . . I seriously need to put my whore master hat to work.

Happy Birthday Ying!!!

So I Google searched images "chugging a bottle" . Displayed here are all of the images that came up in the search. WE SALUTE YOU!

Day 32

Today was the last day of pitching . . . for a little bit anyway.  I will take the next two days off to get my life back in order. 

So Friday I am going to "gay night" at g-bar. "Gay night" is a frequent outing where my co-workers go to our favorite gay bar and drink frozen Apple Martini's. Of course I will not be partaking in the drinking the martini's. My boss is urging me to go so that I can hit on the hot straight bartender. Is it weird that I am going to a gay bar to hit on straight guy? If you know me, this is very apropos.

I miss alcohol. I think the lack of alcohol is making me soft.

Also, I seriously need to have sex. My roommate offered up his underage friend Santos.  Santos is not his real name but I never bothered to commit his actual name to memory after our initial interlude. 

On a separate note: it's nice to see some of my friends coming around. For the first few weeks I felt like a leper. Only my pregnant friends wanted to talk to me.  All the drinkers . . . . crickets

Day 31

I woke up today with some bad PMS. I'm a little frustrated because I usually don't get my period until Thursday or Friday so at this point its two days early . . . and that is some bullshit. I realize that this is probably happening because usually, when I am drinking, I don't take my birth control correctly leading to overlap in hormone packs. Thus shorter periods. Insight: I need to start drinking again. 

So my company has had sort of a march madness pitch season and I have been working long hours with one of the partners that is from the UK. She is has a classy British accent. I often pick up accents very quickly.  But lately I find that after spending so much time with her that the voice in my head has developed a British accent which coincidentally lead to less cursing.  Saying "fuck" in my head with a British accent just didn't seem proper. Of course, this all clearly doesn't seem normal. Insight: I'm overworked to the point of delirium and really need a drink to pull myself out of this. 

Day 30 - Why I am better than you!!!!!!

My blog is called 50 Days Sober, Why I am better than Jesus. I'm better than Jesus because he only suffered for 40days and I'm suffering for 10 more than that!

Now onto why I am better than you. In short, I'm usually not but today is the exception.

So after playing three soccer matches last night I woke up very stiff and not feeling so well this morning. I took a hot shower, then warmed my legs up with a heating pad and headed into the office. The first thing I heard when I arrived at work was "You look gorgeous today!"

Now who said this to me you might ask? . . . an extremely hot, sexy, smart lesbian, slash colleague and partner in crime, Jamie. If I were to create an avatar of what I wanted to look like and who I'd want to be, she would be exactly like Jamie. And Jamie is so pretty that her beauty rivals that of Angelina Jolie (I shit you not).

Of course this story might have gone differently had I been off the wagon. It probably would have involved pillow fights, hair pulling, a white corvette, Warrant and girls making out. Obviously way better than how it actually went down.

P.S. my key to looking gorgeous I think has to do with the fact that I started brushing my hair again.

So on day 30 of my sobriety it seems that things are looking up. Now if I could only find the male equivalent of Jamie my life would be perfect.

Jamie has also taken a similar sobriety journey except she hit the 100 day mark . . .which is why she is better than all of us.

Days 28 and 29

Day 28

It is another weekend in the world of sobriety. The weekends are always the toughest. This weekend was shaping up to be even tougher since I was banished, by my boss, from doing any work related things. So I was pretty much being left to my own devices.

I painted round 2 of Baby Jackson's Nursery Jungle. This took me a good part of the day which was great because it kept me out of trouble.

On my way home from baby Jackson's I stopped to get some gas and a snack at the Quick Check. I was waiting in line behind a group of guys who had clearly been pre-gaming. I could smell the luscious scent of Natty Ice emanating from their breathe. I scooted closer to take in the aroma of barley and hops. I was about two seconds from spontaneously making out with one of them just to taste the remnant flavor of cheap skank beer . . . . I'm not sure I'm going to make it another 22days.

Day 29

This is the first day in weeks where I have a block of 8 hours that is not planned. So I decide to spend the morning in bed watching VH1. I caught up on Rock of Love, Tough Love and For the Love of Ray Jay. I'm not sure I dig For the Love of Ray J. I had to change the channel twice out of embarrassment, the train wreck was so bad I had to look away.

I've decided that I need to be more social while I am sober. I seriously need to find some guy to make out with because it is unlikely that my roommate will surrender the DVR remote batteries for me to re-insert in to my vibrator.

I'm not very good at sober flirting. But I figured I'd make an attempt over the next couple of weeks. My opportunity came sooner than expected. The ref for my indoor soccer game was quite cute and flirty. I did some minimal sober, sweaty girl flirty. It went O.K. I figure I'll try sober but not sweaty girl flirting in the the near future.

P.S. My indoor soccer team went undefeated this season!

So recently I was having a conversation with my Uncle Willy. One thing that I realize lately with adult figures in my life is that I'm old enough to realize that there really are no adults. Once you hit 25 shit stays the same you just go gray, bald and possibly get fat. But for the most part you'll be dealing with the same stuff now (at 27) that you will be dealing with when your 45 but I digress . . . . . .

So my uncle was telling me that he is going to dust off his "whore master" hat. I, needless to say, was very entertained by this phrase coming out of my uncle's mouth. He informed me that "whore master" was a title given to him as a young gent. Of course shortly after he was bestowed that honorable title he got married. So the "whore master" hat went in the closet. Now, impending a possible divorce he decided it was time to bring it out. I kindly asked if he could swap the "whore master" hat for his Officer Cream Puff mustache. He said, "No!"

Let me back up here a bit, so my little brother is a bit of a "dawg". He is a charmer with the ladies and has no problem finding a different one for every day of the week. Now, of course I make fun of him for this. But then he kindly reminds me that I'm also a carrier of what he calls the "lope dawg gene". This gene comes from my father (note: see previous post about crackhead dating) who seems to always have a lady or multiple ladies.

While I was talking to my Uncle Willy I realized that we have "dawg" genes on both sides of our family. So, alas, my need to taste all of the flavors in the ice cream cooler is genetic, therefore I can't be held accountable for my actions. However, this by no means implies that I am a cheater or date more than one guy at a time. It just implies that I probably will sleep with you but that does not necessarily imply I want to ever talk to you again. I mean that in the kindest way possible.

Day 27: Alistair is a CUNT!

Why is Alistair a cunt? I guess my story of Pisserfest was incorrect. Of course I was only told this story while drunk by drunkards, so I apologize for any historical inaccuracy.  For the real story see the poor grammar and proper grammar versions in the comments section of Day 26.

Ugly Betty Watchers - I kind of love her new boyfriend Matt!

So my sister and I were talking on the phone today. We were discussing our status as single women and I brought up the fact that we can't get it together yet my father seems to always have a girl friend.

Let me tell you a little bit about my father. He is 49 years old, he has disfigured arm, and a scar going down the back of his head (both from some guy who came after him with a machete), he is balding which is moot since he has to shave his head because his scar is so bad that he can't grow hair on his head anymore. My father has track marks on both arms and bad teeth from drug use. The icing on my father's cake is that he is co-infected with Hep C and HIV. Now, one would think that with all of this working against him that it would be difficult for him to find a significant other . . .well I guess my father is charming and may have once been good looking which trumps some women's need to date a guy with good teeth and no risk of contracting an STD, but what do I know.

Yet for as long as I can remember my dad has always had a girlfriend. And not like some chick to sleep around with.  Like a real girlfriend, committed (well as committed as crackheads can be) and living together  . . . .the whole-nine yards.  Yet I can not manage to conjure a relationship that lasts longer than a rotation of Next Top Model. Now some of his girlfriends were not exactly runners up for Miss New England but most aren't that bad (for crackheads anyway). One would ask what this has to do with sobriety. Well I'm not really sure but it might have something to do my lack of sobriety up-to-this point.

p.s. Sometimes Betty pisses me off!

Day 26: Over the hump!!!!!

So today is the first day of the rest of my 50 days sober. 

I had a pretty mundane day today. I woke up weighed myself and wished I hadn't.  So I answered my scale with 50 minuets of cardio at the gym.

I realized on the train today that there has been an influx of hot guys to Jersey City. Sweet!

So being that I got nothing I am going to high light Pisserfest.

Pisserfest

What is Pisserfest you ask? Well one of our buddies at Penn State got so drunk during homecoming '00 that he pissed in his closet.  Yep. . . . this is how it went.  That particular homecoming was awesome! Tens of kegs were kicked, shots were taken and our buddy went back to his dorm and passed out.  He woke up in the middle of the night and made his way to the bathroom to take a leak.  He discovered the next morning that the bathroom he thought he took a leak in was actually his closet. 

To commemorate this drunken act and a great weekend of partying, Pisserfest was born. The goal of Pisserfest is to kill as many kegs as possible.  I think the most we ever killed over a Pisserfest weekend were 14 kegs. Yes, One Four!  We were so awesome then.  

Day 25!!! Half-Way There!!!!

I AM HALF WAY THERE!!!!!

I feel great but I'm miserable. 

Song lyrics about drinkin'

"And the only time I feel alright is when I'm into drinking, It sort of eases the pain of it and levels out my thinking"

"There's a smell of stale fear that's reeking from our skins. The drinking never stops because the drinks absolves our sins"

"Since you've been gone my world's been dark and gray. You reminded me of brighter days. I hoped you were coming home to stay. I was headin' off to church. I was off to drink you away!"

Why I really stopped drinking . . .

Some people think that I stopped drinking because I woke up naked, on my brothers couch wrapped in a blanket with very little recollection of how I got there. Now, one would think that alone would drive someone to stop drinking. But let's be honest, I knew I had a problem when I woke up naked, on my brothers couch, with a pricker in my foot, alone. The key word being "alone." Let's just say that if I had woke up next to some hottie I would probably be drinking a nice glass of wine right now.

Day 24 - Happy St. Patrick's Day . . . . fuckers!

7:30am - I wake up to day 24 of sobriety which happens to be St. Patrick's Day. I'm half Irish and love to drink and will not be able to part take in the festivities. So on behalf of my sobriety I wish you a happy St. Patrick's Day and hope the green beer flows like water . . . fuckers!

My boss proceeds to tell me that I need to get laid.  It has been some time (about a month or so) and I'm getting ancy. 

I have been taking my sobriety and sexual frustration out on the soccer field. That's going well. 

I realized today that my ally in drinking has straight up been avoiding me. That would be Capps. He hasn't called or written since I declared my intentions to remain sober. Our friendship is based in spite so I am a little concerned.

Did I mention that I'm Irish and it St. Patrick's Day and I can't drink? Oh, yeah. 

7:30pm: I go down to O'Works (office St. Patty's Day party) to soberly mingle with co-workers. I knock back a cup of OJ. Later I find myself chewing on the side of my red solo cup. 

9:30pm: I send out an email to 4 company partners about a slide deck (a PowerPoint presentation).

9:38pm: I realize that instead of sending a slide deck to the 4 partners I sent a "dick".  Yep, I inserted the word "dick" instead of "deck" into a email that was disseminated to my boss and 4 partners. Fuck my life.

On a serious note (if you don't like serious don't read this). 

My mother was born on March 17th, 1959, today would have been her 50th birthday.

So awhile back I had mention that I thought of a cool way to reach out to young single parents living in urban areas.  This brain child came from a discussion with my good friend Sir Hemingway and some nursery designing that I have been doing for another friend.  

Sir Hemingway and I were talking about how exposing your children to ideas provokes thought. For instance, if you put a glow-in-the-dark star constellation on your child's ceiling it is going to stay with that child and conjure curiosity. So I was thinking of starting a housing initiative, working with housing projects and other government groups, to set up a program where artists can draw and paint murals for children living in housing projects. I would inevitably love for it to develop into a mentor program for young mothers. It's a grand idea so we'll see.

Days 21 and 23 - Well behaved women rarely make history

Day 21

This is the first day I have had off from work in 12days. What do I on my only day off? I clean. I dream of sipping a nice cold margarita but I clean. I do laundry, vacuum, clean the bathroom, clean out the fridge, change my sheets and make my bed.

Around 2pm my roommate Jake asks if I want to walk to the PATH with him so I can catch the train to soccer while he goes out drinking with his friends.

I often talk about my other roommate Guy but I never talk about Jake. I did not change his name because he is not sleeping with half of the five boroughs, Hoboken and Jersey City. But for posterity's sake we will call him Calamity Jake.

Both of my roommates are quite the drinkers but Jake always finds himself in some drunken ridiculous situations . . .and here are a few to wet your palette.

1. We have a Valentine's Day party. The cops show up. Guy and I are schmoozing with them trying to clear the air and cooperate. Earlier in the evening (around 9pm) some random guy pissed in our flower pot bird feeder thingy. Jake in a drunken tangle comes out into the hall and yells at the police officers, "You should be chasing down the guy who pissed in our flower pot!" He immediately storms back into the apartment. Luckily the officers found him amusing.

2. One drunken night Jake steps in some cat shit. He tracks it through the foyer and into the apartment. He does not realize what he had done until later when he steps in the remnants of the cat shit in his bare feet. He, needless to say, was grossed out.

3. Last Friday Jake is bar hopping around Jersey City with Guy. Guy heads out into Manhattan for the weekend and Jake goes to the Hard Grove to meet up with his siblings. It's around 6:30pm, he is sitting at the bar drinking a

Heineken when he notices the bartender pour 5 shots of 151 and light them on fire. He thinks to himself, "Wow that's ambitious" and turns back to his beer. A few seconds later he hears a crash, the flaming shots have been knocked over and the wall size tapestry lining the bar is on fire. After a few minuets of observing the situation Jake asks if he should call 911. The other bar tenders says, "Um, Yeah!!!" He goes outside and calls 911. The operator asks, "Is the Hard Grove on fire?" Jake responds, "A, Sort of."

9pm: I'm home, watching TV, sober on a Saturday night. I think to myself. My original goal was to just give up alcohol for these 50 days. If I could have stuck with that I could totally be smoking pot, doing coke and taking my landlord up on his offer of GHB. Boy, did I mess this up!

Day 22

I'm over my angstiness. Sometimes you have to be angsty but I think in general I am a mean sober.

I spent a good part of the day working on a slide deck for another business pitch. My Aunt and cousins came by for lunch. I realized while we were talking I had nothing good to say about anyone. Here are some quick hits on why I am a mean sober.

1. I want to punch someone in their fat face for having a bad attitude

2. I hope Nicole Ritchie's little sister doesn't grow up to be a dumb ass like Nicole

3. I don't think women should take care of men. In general if you are an adult you need to take care of yourself

4. On the same token I don't think women should except anyone to take care of them. I think they should be self sufficient and stop trying to find a fucking husband to "take care of them"

5. In general if you need to be taken care I will take care of you with my foot up yo' ass

6. When my nieces and nephews act up I do/will beat their asses down the street

7. Bridal showers are stupid. If I ever get married I'm not having one. I have been the recipient of many bridal registries and I always think to myself, "who really wants this shit." If people want to give you a gift, they should just give you what they want with a gift receipt. People don't register for birthday gifts. If you get a shitty gift you either live with it or you re-gift it

In short I am a horrible person and very blunt when I am sober. My cousin Lois says I'm always like that . . . . . but I whole heartedly disagree.

I think sobriety makes me edgier. Alcohol smooths the edges but sobriety leaves me no choice but to get down to business. I noticed that I'm reverting back to my edgier self. I'm listening to more Marilyn Manson and Tool than usual. I also tend to drive faster. PS. WTF happened to my radio station. I really don't need to hear Britney Spears on five fucking stations, thank you very much.

7pm: I show up to line judge for soccer. I am asked to actually play the game that I am supposed to be judging. I'm psyched because I'll get to play two games today. I realize playing soccer is my new crutch, albeit a healthy one, until I can start drinking again. I think drinking is a better crutch than playing soccer.

Day 23

I think I need to figure out a way to go out and be social enough to pick out my "male accessory" for spring. My sister suggested this since her winter male accessory is quickly going out of style. I'd like a nice spring accessory. Since I'm trying to be less commitment phobic maybe my accessory will turn into a relationship . . . or not. I also feel that finding a spring male accessory while I'm sober is false advertising. I don't think a guy can fairly assess my qualities until he has experienced my ability to have sex like a porn star.

I feel the need to misbehave. I think I might need to curb the cursing a little though, . . . just a little.

Days 19 and 20

I'm in a funk so I'm merging Days 19 and 20

Why am I in a funk? Sometimes that's just how things roll. Maybe it's because I realized that it is damn near impossible to have sex like a porn star when you're sober or maybe its because day 20 coincides with Friday the 13th or maybe I realize that I'm never going to break the Gemini habit.

Experts think that drinking makes people depressed. Well I feel it is the other way around. Alcohol is like my lithium. It makes me normal, like the other people. I should itemize alcohol as a medical expense next year on my taxes.

Sometimes I struggle with my need to be me and the pressure to acclimate to what the normal people do. And every time I remotely think about being normal or make a minimal effort at being like everyone else it becomes painfully apparent why I belong on the other side of the street.

Grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change; courage to change the things I can; and wisdom to know the difference.  And fuck all y'all who don't like me and what I do. Amen.

Day 18

9:15am: I get a call from my brother. He wants me to order something for him online. When I ask what it is, he tells me he wants the Rosetta Stone for Spanish. Now a little background here; my brother has been trying to learn Spanish so that he can date Dominican girls. He loves Dominican girls but they won't date a guy who can't speak Spanish. My brother went as far as to watch Dora The Explorer with his daughter to bone up on his Spanish. So needless to say I make fun of him.

11am: I look Rosetta Stone up on the internet. The full set costs $550. I call my brother and ask if this is really worth it just to get some ass. I told him he could buy five nights with a Dominican hooker for that much.

6pm: We have a soccer organizational meeting at Aspen. I successfully do not drink any alcohol but knock back 3 diet cokes.

8pm: I download the new Slipknot. It reminded me of the time I broke Matt Chaney's collarbone moshing to Megadeath's Symphony of Destruction. My sixteen-year-old self would totally kick my twenty-seven year old self.

Penn State Memory - Tequila Night

While I was at Aspen with the soccer team a few of us got to talking about Penn State. PSU forever!!! Tequila Night came to mind.

Tequila night was an accident really. My roommates and I were having a little pre-game party before going out. We happened to buy some different types of tequila. Then Aimee, aka; Arut and Butterslut, also brought some Cabo Wabo and Tequila Rose. So we had about 20 shots of tequila in 45mins. The drunkness hadn't hit me yet so we headed to a party. We get to the party and I decide that the only way to wash down 20 shots of tequila was to do a keg stand. The first keg stand went so well I did a second one. Later on that night I was in a corner making out with some guy. I abruptly stop making out with him and walk home. I'm not sure what happened after that but he said something to piss me off. So to spite him I started to take my clothes off and throw them behind me. He kindly picked up each article as I discarded. I walked down the streets of state college half dressed slurring some feminist rhetoric. By the time I got to my apartment I was wearing nothing but my scarf which coincidentally was laying right over my breasts.

Sobriety is miserable.

Days 16 and 17

So I know my blog has been lagging and I truly apologize. I've been preparing for a presentation at work and it has screwed things up.  So now I'm back on schedule  . . . . . for a little bit anyway.

Day 16

11am: My boss mentions something about her son's 4th birthday party and I hear the word "cupcakes." I know Crumbs cupcakes are involved in this baby shindig so I invite myself along.  I realize this is the perfect social engagement for someone struggling to stay sober. Why? Three reasons: 1. Um, there will be Crumbs cupcakes 2. It won't seem awkward that I'm at a party and not drinking (I certainly won't be the only one) 3. I won't have to worry about being hit-on or any awkward sober flirting. This is brilliant, I plan to crash as many children's birthday parties as possible. 

1pm: Things are getting a little stressful as we are preparing for our presentation. I realize that  I love saying the "F-word" not Fuck, just the "F-word". Kidding. We all know I like to say "fuck". It helps me relieve stress which would usually be relieved by a glass of Maker's Mark. I also enjoy the word "cunt". Yep. I like that word. I'd like to use it on some choice people in the office but I have a feeling that might get me in some hot water with HR.

11:50pm: I arrive home. I return my roommates alarm clock to him. He thought he had gotten drunk and some how lost it until he read my blog. Per usual he is upstairs with one of his girls. I'm not sure who it is and don't stick around to find out.

Day 17 

12:01am: I'm rehearsing in my room for the presentation that I have in a few hours. I am interrupted by the sounds of something crashing on the floor above me. At first I thought something fell  . . . .but as the creaking and crashing continued I realized it was Guy going at it with the girl he had over.  I continue to rehearse and the noise continues.  I actual realize now that by the sounds coming from above me which girl he has over.  I can tell who he is fucking by the bed creaking morse code. I like this one so it's cool.

12:32am: At this point it feels like a wrecking ball has been crashing into my brownstone.  At this point I'd wish he'd finish already . . . I have to get up in a few hours.  But a half hour is pretty decent so you have to give credit where credit is due.

2:15pm: After the presentation our group goes out to lunch. Most of my team exits the restaraunt before me.  I walk out of the restaurant to find my colleagues staring to the east. Oswaldo, who is a hysterically funny Cuban gay guy, has a complete look of disgust on his face.  I ask him what is wrong.  He very loudly says, "That lady is walking her cat . . . like on a leash." I look over and she surely is. Oswaldo flips his head around, raises his hand and states,"Fucking white people. They'll put a leash on anything. Dogs, cats, children. Black people and Latin people don't do that shit. They'll just fuck you up if you try to run away."

6:54pm: I sit on my bed.

8pm: I wake up in a puddle of my drool wondering where I am.

9pm: I decide I am going to take a bath, relax, then plan a date with my vibrator.  My friend Erik once told me that it is important to orgasm as much as possible. He said that it is extremely healthy, that it relieves stress and helps your skin.  Well I'm not big on plastic surgery, so anything to keep my skin looking young. 

9:45: I realize that I gave my roommate the batteries from my vibrator for the DVR remote. Fuck my life.

Days 13 -15

Hey everyone. Sorry for my delay in posting. I've had to work all weekend so I haven't had much time or energy to get down to bitching about my sobriety.

Day 13

So today I'm being set-up by my friend Fannie and her husband, Alex, at their tattoo shop's one year anniversary party. I'm usually so against set ups because I'm weird and a geek but Fannie is always looking out for me so I couldn't say no. Since I'm not drinking alcohol you can multiply the weirdness and geekiness by a 100, in short I'm lame.

My usual approach to dating goes a little like this: go to a bar, get shitfaced, end up talking to a guy who I find intriguing on some level, suggest that we make out, inevitably take him home with me. If he doesn't annoy me in the morning and I remember his name then I offer him my number. I feel this weeds out the unnecessary bullshit present in early courtship. So agreeing to this "meet and greet" sober was a bad idea on my part. 

1opm: I arrive at Fannie's to meet up with Justine. Justine is another girl who is being set-up. Note: Fannie is preggers with her second baby so she needs something to occupy her time.

11pm: I head over to the bar where the party is being held. The place is packed! Justine needs a wristband. Alex cleverly sends me over to Matt, the guy I'm supposed to meet, to get a wrist band. 

I go over to Matt to ask for a wristband. He is also one of the owners of the shop, so I feel a little like a groupie.  Being that I am sober I'm not sure how to maneuver in this situation. If I had knocked back two Jack and Gingers I could have easily handled this situation but all I was armed with was a diet coke and my wits. I'm lame so I kindly ask if he is Matt and tell him McWatt sent me over for a wristband. He adorably smiles and kindly gives me a wristband.

I give Justine her wristband. She graciously tries to talk me out of my sobriety. She told me that I should "give up the want to be a raging alcoholic" for lent instead of the actual act of drinking. Of course that would have been a great idea 13 days ago.

Justine and I get to talking about the guys that we were sent to meet. I said mine seems cool and is adorable but I feel a little like a groupie. And I'm too old to be a groupie. So she gets hell bent on getting me to talk to Matt. That's when my assertive instinct kicked in. I said I'll just go up to him, give him my card and tell him that Fannie is trying to set us up. So in short that is exactly what I did, except that I didn't have any business cards so I wrote my name and number on the back of a pack of gum. 

Of course my grand idea of being direct didn't really work out that well.  I was completely ridiculous. I stuttered and kept looking down while I was talking. It was like a bad episode of Saved By The Bell. Luckily Matt was kind enough to ignore my social awkwardness and pretend that I was sort of normal. If I was drunk in this situation I would have totally made out with him. Sobriety is ruining my life.

Day 14

12pm: I'm making my way out and run into a group of guys head banging. It reminded me of the time I broke Matt Chaney's collar bone while moshing to Megadeath's Symphony of Destruction. 

12:15am: My phone rings. Its my Aunt V.A. Our conversation goes like this.

Aunt V.A.: Hello, Veeee.Aaaaa

Me: Hi Aunt V.A.

Aunt V.A.: What are you doing?

Me: Walking home from a bar in Brooklyn that I didn't drink at.

Aunt V.A.: You didn't drink? Are you sure. You sound like you've been drinking.

Me: I haven't drank in 13 days. Trust me, I'm sober.

Aunt V.A.: Well, I've been drinking.

Me: I've gathered that.

6am: I wake up to what sounds like a wrecking ball going through my living room. It's my roommate fucking some girl. I'm convinced one day his bed is going to come through my ceiling. Fuck that. I'm annoyed, I can't even make out and this guy is fucking everything that moves. 

10:15am - 8:30pm: I'm at work on a Saturday. Fuck my life

Day 15

6am - My roommates alarm clock is going off. He's not home and it's Sunday. I go upstairs unplug his fucking alarm clock and throw it in the trash. If he's not waking me up with his stomping bed above me, his alarm clock is playing proxy to my suffering.

10:45 am - 10:15pm I'm at work. I guess work is the best place to be if I'm not drinking.

Life is difficult

Day 12

WHAT REALLY HAPPENED

So there have been a few questions about exactly what happened to my dress and who I slept with that night. So to debunk any myths and answer the many burning questions . . .

I was dressed when I drove to McDonalds for my hangover cure. I was wearing a long sleeve t-shirt and my green heart pajama pants. However, I was not wearing any underwear which was a bit of concern. I was afraid I'd get pulled over for drunk driving after the fact and get arrested. This would clearly suck, especially if I wasn't wearing any underwear.

Apparently, I was mean to my friend Chad who was kind of enough to drop me off at my brothers house. He also informed me that I dry heaved into the barrel adjacent to the bush that I fell in. I woke the next morning to find a pricker in my foot. 

No, I did not sleep with anyone that night. Chad, who was very much a gentleman, told me that I was too drunk for him to even try.

Where was my dress? It was nicely laid on top of my suitcase. Thank you Chad.

6:30pm: My team is working on a new business pitch and they broke out a bottle of wine. I was jealous but refrained from crawling across the conference room table to take a swig from the bottle.

7pm: My boss shared her "dick for a day" fantasy. Now I preface this statement by saying my boss is a very attractive hip new york mom. She is super cool, looks like she is  21, in short she doesn't need a dick. But she explained that if she did have one she would bend her secretary (which she doesn't have but would need to hire) over a big mahogany desk and fuck the shit out of her. I quote "I'd fuck her in every hole." I have to say that if I wasn't on my sobriety kick I would have automatically thought I was drunk after hearing this. But boy am I glad that I was sober.

7:45pm: This is the last thing I saw before I left the office

Penn State Days and Answers

There have been several inquiries on where I found my dress and the many drunken nights at PSU. Shall I remind everyone that I have 38 days of sobriety left? Well I do, and all of that will be fodder for this here blog over the next 912 hours.

Highlights to come: Tequila Night, Drive By Drinkings, the night before graduation and Legion Lane Follies.

I'll be back later with a recap of Day 12.

Groovers in the Hall: Drunkards In Action

So some people were skeptical about my list of favorite alcoholics.  Here are some clips of them in action.  Enjoy!

Day 11

Don't Try This At Home

People have expressed that taking a stab at sobriety is a good idea. Some even said they would like to try it along with me. Straight up. That's a bad idea. This is a miserable excursion and I suggest that you don't try this shit at home.

7am: I wake up to my roommate's alarm going off. Apparently he didn't come home last night but I'm sure he came somewhere else. Lucky bastard. Yet another reminder that I'm not having sex. Fuck my life.

11am: You know who is to blame for my sobriety? No, not me! What the fuck! That'd be way too easy. Vodka is to blame! Bourbon, Scotch and Tequila are like mother's milk. Vodka is for sissies yet somehow it was the catalyst for my sobriety. Fuck Vodka.

Weekend Plans
Friday I'm supposed to go to a party . . .for Three Kings Tattoo Shop . . . at a bar . . . . . and not drink. This will be quite the challenge. I usually don't make sound decisions while I'm sober. Ooh, maybe I'll find someone to make out with.

Saturday is the St. Patty's Day Parade in Hoboken which I have been invited to. Now there are bad ideas and then there are baaaad ideas. Not sure I'm going to show up to that. It's a celebration based solely on drinking. I could be asking for it.

Top 5 Benders:

September 2006: Penn State vs. Michigan State: 11am: Chantel and I arrive at Tonic. I immediately order a wild turkey and ginger. I leave the bar at 10pm, many wild turkey and gingers later. Highlight: Chantel eating a chicken wing yelling "Suck a dick!"

July 2007: Jen, Ying, Andrea and I go to Tio Pepes. We arrive at 7pm and stay until 3am . . . $400 later. Highlight: At one point I have a glass of Sangria, a Mojito and a shot of tequila sitting in front of me. Yes, I thought I was in heaven too. Highlight cont'd: I buy an $80 purple vibrator and my boyfriend excitedly asks, "When can we use it".

March 2008: After running around all day preparing for Lisa's surprise 40th, Jody and I arrive at the VFW with 60 helium balloons. Ooops forgot to eat that day. Highlights: Well some of those can't be shared here. Cake fight: which I have no recollection of but apparently was involved in.

April 2008: 5pm: Jen and I arrive at Divine bar. I don't leave until 2am . . . $400 later. Highlight: I apparently sang Kelly Clarkson at the top of my lungs.

August 2008: Jen, Ying, Andrea, Cat and I arrive for our annual Tio Pepes Ladies night. I have no idea what the time frame was. Highlight: I vomited on the table in a tortilla basket.

Day 10

10 days down . . . 40 to go!

8am: I broke the original charger to my IPod Shuffle and now I can't get my Mac to recognize it. All I want to do is download Beyonce's Halo. I know a bottle of bourbon and I could get to the bottom of this.

10am: My sister Terry suggested we find other ways, besides drinking, to have fun. I suggested that was a bad idea.

11am: People are congratulating me and cheering me on for my 50 days of sobriety. That's some bullshit. Would you cheer someone on if they said they were going to jump off the GWB? I'm basically committing suicide one sober second at a time and you people are cheering me on.

11: 15am: I'm going to lose 8lbs. Alcohol usually motivates me so it's probably not going to happen.

11:30am: John from IT swings by my desk to tell me that my blog is "entertaining but quite disturbing". I know :-).

I decided to make a list of famous alcoholics. These people are my idols.

Jim Morrison - I was one bottle of bourbon away from being a hairy fat drunken version of Jim

Johnny Cash - He is perfect, need I say more

Hunter S. Thompson - A wild turkey drinker, a man after my own heart

David Hasselhoff - I've definitely handled a cheese burger like he did in his most famous film to date

Charles Bukowski - Drunken writers are sexy

Alex Trebek - It's fucking Alex Trebek

Michelle Rodriguez - We're twins except I don't get caught

Kiefer Sutherland - I too have wrestled a tree in a drunken stupor

Day 9

Today is the first day back at work post strep. I feel good that I had a productive weekend and I'm ready to dive into our new business pitches.

I trek to work in the six inches of snow. Snow is bullshit unless you are boarding it.

I get to work and hit the ground running with my boss. 

12pm: My boss and I order lunch.  During lunch I email my sisters to check in and see how their weekends were.  My sister Terry and I go back and forth. I tell her that I feel good about my sobriety. I feel like I'm doing good things. I came up with an idea for a charity and patched things up with Jody.  Things were looking up.

3:30pm: My sister calls me to tell me that she got laid off. So I'm a little nervous and sad for her.  My aunt and uncle might get a divorce which is freaking everyone out, my brother got into a car accident and my sister got laid off. Boy do I need a drink. I gather my self and think, "I only have about 3o more days. I can do that.

So in my effort to take my mind off of everything, I start to calculate the days.  I figure it's 30 days since lent is technically 40 days and I already have 9 or so under my belt. I realize in my calculations that lent is not 40 days . . . IT'S 47 DAYS!!! Since I started 3 days early that means I will be sober for 50 days. I start to hyperventilate. 50 days is a long fucking time. Ain't that some bullshit?

I'm miserable.

I decided to share my misery with everyone via this blog.  I will chronicle my journey of sobriety here. 

Lucky fucking you.

Day 8

I wake up pretty exhausted from painting baby Jackson's room. I'm a little nervous that I fucked it up but I will go back today.

I realize that my days of sobriety happen to fall with in the same time frame as lent. That's cute. Quite a coincidence since I know nothing about religion or Catholicism. I realize that lent is 40 days and 40 nights. That makes me a little nervous but I'm already a few days in so it's not so bad. Right?

3:15pm: I arrive at Jill's to finish painting. I find a paint marker at the craft store, it revolutionizes my life and the outlining of my jungle animals.

9:42: I finish Jackson's Baby Jungle. I'm pleased with my work. And of course Jill is great and makes it sound like I painted the Sistine Chapel.

10pm: Jill and Ric's slightly crazy new neighbor accosts me as I am clearing snow off of my car. He happened to buy his Honda at the same place I bought mine.  He concluded our conversation with the following, "You are V.A., you live in Jersey City, went to college at Penn State and are friends with Ric and Jill." I hope I don't have a new stalker.

11pm: I arrive home to find that my roommate, Guy*, has one of his many lady friends over. Let me tell you a little bit about Guy. He is a very nice, decent looking dude, but you would think he was a Calvin Klein model the way the ladies throw themselves at him. In short he could sell ice to Eskimos which has made him a success on Wall Street and with the ladies. 

Let's just say that the last time Guy had this particular lady friend over I thought the ceiling was going to cave in on me.  This got me thinking that I have had good sex in about a month. I realized that in my effort to avoid drinking I probably wouldn't have much face time with any potential conquests. NOW I'M PISSED! I gave up alcohol but it seems that sex might be going with it. Boy do I wish I could drink.

To add insult to injury I live below Guy who has the Ho Train running through his sheets. Fuck my life!

*Names have been changed to protect the innocent.

Day 7

9am: I wake up in a cold sweat to more weird dreams.  I had a dream that as an adult I am rushing a sorority. One of the sisters tells me that I should change my name because "V.A." is too offensive. In my dream I think that is bullshit so I slap the bitch. As the dream goes on this sorority sister just keeps saying shit that is stupid and every time I either punch or slap her, basically kicking her ass. I really disliked her, so much so that I woke up with a headache. I take 4 (my lucky number) Advil (key to killing symptoms of PMS) and I go back to sleep.

I think the sorority sister represented everyone in my life who thinks I should "conform",  so if you are one of those people I suggest you watch out. Cause I just might slap you.

10:15am: I wake up abruptly from another dream. This one more serious, my friend Jody, who I had a falling out with, passing away. I'm crushed and saddened by my dream. I decide to text him. Of course I still let him know that I want to kick his ass

10:30: My sister sends pictures from the party that triggered my sobriety. At least I look cute.

I get up to start the day. My first weekend sober will be spent painting baby Jackson's nursery. This project proves to be very therapeutic and helps me survive my first sober weekend.

I paint from 1:15pm to 1opm. 

During that time I hear back from Jody. Things are good.

My sister calls me to tell me my brother got into a car accident. Not a surprise. But the accident wasn't his fault. Pretty big fucking surprise.

11pm: I'm so exhausted that I fall into a deep sleep. 

First weekend day sober!

Days 5 & Day 6

Day 5

7:30am: Fuck, my strep has moved to the other tonsil. My boss is going to kill me! 

3pm: I have cramps the size of Texas. Flo has arrived to compound my suffering. 

6pm: I wake up from my nap.  I'm having crazy weird dreams.

Day 6

9am: I'm back at Dr. Lazo's for a second shot in my ass. This time it's the other cheek. My ass is burning yet again.

5pm: I find out that things might get shaken up at work. I really want to drink.  It has been 6 days since I've had alcohol or caffeine. I AM FUCKING MISERABLE.

Day 4

10am: Strep throat is life's way of punishing me for being a slutty drunkard.  

I woke up this morning with strep throat. I believe in Karma, so I think life is trying to tell me something.

2:30pm: I've been sitting in Exam Room 7 for 45 mins. Dr. Lazo still hasn't showed up to review the status of my icky tonsil. 

Exam Room 7 is in "no man's land" of my doctor's office. It's so far back in the office that staff members come back here to the bathroom next door to drop a deuce. As I'm waiting one lady takes such a gnarly deuce that the stank fills the room.

2:45pm: Dr. Lazo finally arrives. He pulls out his stethoscope to listen to my lungs and heart. As he bringing the amplifier to my chest we both realize that my V-neck tee has worked it's way down creating some uncanny cleavage. He pauses. I start taking deep breaths pretending that I don't notice that the amplifier has not hit my chest yet.  My boobs are so big that MY DOCTOR has been distracted by them. Only me!

3pm: The nurse comes by to give me a shot of antibiotic. She gives it to me in the ass. My ass is burning. Fuck my life.

Day 3

I was feeling great today then some jackass on the train decided it was a good idea to rub his groin up on my leg. I tried to move to another place on the train but it was packed. The train degenerate had conveniently cornered me. It's 10am and all I want is a Margarita.  I mean do I really need to not drink until April 12th? 

Oh, today is Mardis Gras. Too bad, I have to work late. Boy could I use a glass of wine. 

I'll try to shoot for a week of sobriety. Oh, I have a great idea. I'm going to give up caffeine as well.

Day 2

I am enjoying day 2 of my hangover. I have to go to work because we have five thousand new business pitches. Boy am I glad that I'm not drinking!

Day 1

I woke up this morning (at 6am) on my brother's couch in nothing but the comforter I managed to wrap myself in at some point last night. My first thought was, "Where is my dress." My second thought was, "Where are my underwear?" I realized that I lost my camera, which I didn't much care for, and my new favorite scarf, which I cared a lot for. I texted my sister to ask if she was awake. She replied, "NO!". So I proceeded to text her that I lost my dress, camera and scarf. After she did not respond I went back to sleep.

At 9am I woke up and realized that I did not have my car or the key to my car. Hmmm. So I found the key to my brother's truck and drove to McDonalds. I clearly needed something to vomit up in a few hours. As I was driving I realized two things: First, I was still legally drunk. Second, the last thing I remember is Chad pulling me out of the bushes.

I got to McDonalds and ordered a sausage biscuit with cheese (This information is key; McDonalds sausage is better than its bacon, but I digress). I then ordered two more breakfast sandwiches, one for my brother and one for whatever girl he happened to bring home last night (cause you know he didn't come home alone).

I pulled up to window 2, gathered my hangover cure and drive off. Once I was back at my brother's I realized that they gave me 6 sandwiches. Sweet!!! As I was eating my biscuit and hash brown I thought to myself, "I really need to stop drinking for awhile." I fell back asleep.

An hour later my brother came out of his room to inform me that the key to my car was officially lost and that he found one of my shoes in the driveway last night. My obvious response was, "What?"

Apparently, as my friend Chad was throwing my drunken ass into his Escalade I tossed my key to my sister Sarah slurring, "You're the responsible one, take the key to my car."

This is when I knew I had to stop drinking. For anyone who knows my sister Sarah, you know only a delusional person or a crazy drunk person could have said the above statement. As I was listening to my brothers account of the evening the fateful decree of sobriety was born. I decided that I wasn't drinking until Omi's 60th Birthday on April 12th.

Why I am better than Jesus.

So you are probably thinking . . . who would give up drinking for 50days and why? For starters, this sobriety kick was an accident. I was too hungover to realize what I was saying or to stop the words from exiting my mouth.

I will chronicle my days of sobriety here on this blog. My ups, my downs and struggle to avoid drinking the sweet nectar of the Gods.

Here goes.