Caps

Wow, between the Caps going on this ridiculous run and being back on the sauce, I haven't really had much time to post. Needless to say, I'm pretty sure I've gained a bit of the weight back, since I've been toasting every Caps game, and they've gotten into the habit of extending every series to 7 games. I felt a bit more "jiggle" in my step on the way to the metro...

Going to game 7 tomorrow, and I'm fully prepared to experience either the euphoria of a series win over the hated Pittsburgh Penguins, storming our fair city like orcs from the gates of Mordor, or the crushing agony of defeat at the hands of yet another Pittsburgh team. I'm driving Michelle to the airport in the morning, which will limit my drunkenness and the resulting enhancement of my joy/pain that would cause me to wake up at 10 in the bushes outside of my house or central booking in downtown DC surrounded by a number of large gentlemen who have never heard of the Capitals.

Paint Drinking Pete informed me that Goats didn't make it to game 5...a game which the Caps lost. Hopefully he didn't go on a rampage and drive his car through a nursing home after they lost game 4! I certainly hope he'll be back at the Phone Booth double fisting the Caps to victory. Let's Go GOATS!

Well, hopefully I'll be able to chronicle a dramatic Capitals win, some hilarious anti-Pittsburgh paraphenalia (my favorites are the Crosby urinal cakes), and stave off the temptation to get on Goats' level.

LET'S GO GOATS!!!

Seriously, just now feeling normal from Saturday...
No good stories, just a good old fashioned drunkening.


Here's a good photo of "Let's Go Goats" from the game, with his eyes obscured in case more than 9 people read this blog...

The Caps are 5-0 since I started drinking again, so I better get a beer and throw on my jersey!

Friday

My feet are up...
Got Chimay in my cup...
Life is good.

I'm enjoying a ridiculous night of non-stop sports while Michelle is away on a girly weekend (miss you!). No "He's Just Not That Into You" for this guy tonight...I get to watch every excruciating moment of the O's latest debacle. On second thought, think I'll watch hockey. Stupid O's.

Tomorrow will mark my first all-day drinking affair since I've gotten back on the sauce; going to the Caps/Pens game with Paint Drinking Pete. I'm excited, but definitely a little apprehensive about the possibility of diminished drinking powers.

I behaved myself last weekend- my first drinking weekend in a month- so now I'm going keep my liver on its toes. Gotta make sure it's still working hard.

We'll definitely need to get in a "festive" mood to root on the Caps vs the hated Pens- the latest team from Pittsburgh to attempt to crush the dreams of one of my favorite teams. The shitty thing is, they usually succeed. Not only that, but their fans are fucking EVERYWHERE...probably because nobody actually wants to live in Pittsburgh. They invade our sports bars, stadiums, and arenas, bringing with them an annoying air of superiority- even though probably 75 percent of them have never been to Pittsburgh.

We'll definitely need the power of alcohol to deal with the few thousand Pittsburgh fans that will undoubtedly invade the Phone Booth. I just hope that none of them are near us, especially the douches that wear Steeler gear and wave "terrible towels" sitting directly behind us. News flash- it's a hockey game, dickweeds. The Caps really need to shut them up and win...although they'll still point out all the goddamned Super Bowls and Stanley Cups they've won in the past. Who gives a fuck!?

/end rant

Well, hopefully I'll have some funny stories from tomorrow, and don't end up getting arrested for befouling a terrible towel. Leave that stuff to "Let's Go Goats!"

Bowling

So now that I'm allowing myself to drink in moderation again, I decided to do a little experiment at the bowling alley last night. I bowled 2 games with no beer, and then 2 more after drinking a 22 ounce Sam Adams.

Before Sam
90, 80

After Sam
130, 133

Sure, I changed my technique after everyone pointed out that the ball was falling out of my hand after game 2. Sure, I had 2 games of practice before games 3 and 4. Coincidence. Pure coincidence.

I'm tellin' you, they should really test professional bowlers for alcohol...it's like Popeye's spinach to the bowler.

Well...

My month long odyssey is over. I'll wax philosophical about it some other time...right now, it's time for a beer! Guess we'll see if I learned anything and can find my off switch.

Before I taste the deliciousness, let's have one last weigh-in after a disappointing week last week.

Not too shabby! Lost 2.5 pounds from last week, bringing the total for my sober month to 6.5 pounds. Pretty good, but not great. I figured out this morning that I've been treating myself to large amounts of food on Saturdays to compensate for my sobriety. A brotha's gotta get his fix somewhere, and if I can't have beer, you best believe I'm going for that big-ass burrito and some bread pudding.

Okay, off to crack a bottle of Sam's White Ale and get that old, glorious feeling. It's been to long, beer! Daddy's home.

1998

Well, it's been a few years since we left High School Panek. Clearly, he's put on a little weight!

I was pretty anxious to get out on my own, and once I realized that I didn't HAVE to go to class, could eat whatever and whenever I wanted, smoke cigarettes to my heart's content, and could just waltz into any party in town as long as I had a few bucks for the keg (I didn't even need to be on the "invite list!"), the world was my buffet.

I was a fairly mixed-up young man when I first arrived on campus- still smarting from the end of my first real relationship (she was a Brazilian exchange student, yet I thought it would somehow work out...I wasn't necessarily very bright back then). I was all set to play for the lacrosse team- I'd met with the coach during an earlier campus visit, and even made the "freshman players to watch" section of the team's program- but made a spur of the moment decision to play rugby instead. After all, rugby didn't have mandatory study hall, and one of the coaches was a co-owner of a bar downtown at which the team was occasionally treated to free beer, and that was all I needed to hear. Giddy up!

I ended up having a great time playing rugby freshman year, but ultimately got injured, had back surgery, and hung up my cleats for good. It was just as well, though, since I probably packed in a lifetime's worth of male nudity into that one year (once you've seen one "zulu warrior" or "butt chug", you don't really need to see one ever again). Besides, with no sports or physical activity of any kind holding me back, I was able to focus all of my efforts on the art of college drinking.

I met my group of good college friends- who are still my good friends to this day- toward the end of freshman year. I think we became friends so easily because, for the most part, we all looked at college the same way-the one time in life where we could party constantly with little to no consequences. We weren't really interested in doing much else- I mean, what was the point? We were all smart enough to pass our courses (with the occasional slip-up), and nothing else ever really seemed like as good of an idea as getting together, going to a party or gathering in somebody's dorm, and drinking until the sun came up.

When we got together, our drinking took on something of a mob mentality, and was usually quite legendary. As former moderately successful high school athletes, we tended to fill the void left by sports by getting REALLY competitive with drinking games, sometimes with hysterical or violent results. I met my friend Whitey when we stumbled out of different rooms at a dorm party and he yelled "I bet I can bong a beer faster than you, you pussy!" Our excessive, awesome partying- which occasionally featured crowd surfing and screaming Bon Jovi songs rewritten to feature the word "beer" 57 times- ultimately drove our head RA to resign from her post, which was something in which we took extreme pride.

By the time I moved off campus, the moderately svelte High School Panek was no more, replaced by the 260+ pounds of chewed bubble gum you see at the top of the page. I smoked about a pack of cigarettes a day, made sure the delivery guys at JD's Subs and Pizza had plenty of walking around money, and drank a solid 3-4 nights a week. Looks pretty bad out there in print, but hey- I was young, and I gotta tell you, getting that big was really fun (a lot more fun than losing the weight, that's for damn sure).

Our place was something of an "animal house"; the floors were slanted, the backyard was unkempt,and the back porch seemed to be held together with duct tape and chicken wire. This was before any of us set foot on the property. Ultimately, we ended up with a hole in the wall that was filled with meat (long story).

Regardless of our home's deplorable condition, we ended up with a pretty great party house, which was definitely helpful for me, being a chunky young lad, in my pursuit of the ladies (the fact that we served lots of alcohol helped too). The first week of school, we had a party that made the front page of the local paper, got about 20 of us cited for underage drinking, and took 7 police cars to disperse roughly 200 people. The local police weren't terribly fond of us, so we eventually took turns answering the door, with those of us who were most recently cited filing out with the crowd.

Our drinking prowess only grew as the years went on. We probably hit our absolute peak junior year, when we would each indulge in a "pre-game fifth" of Jim Beam BEFORE going out for the night. A local mini-mart sold 64 ounce bottles of Olde English and Private Stock (since discontinued), which we sometimes drank in place of the "pre-game fifth". Again, writing that out make it seem even more absurd, but it's what we actually did.

Looking back on my 4 years of college, I don't really have any regrets. Could I have been slimmer? Sure. Could I have given up smoking? I guess. But the fact that I was able to make friends with some of the greatest people on the planet by living that lifestyle made it worth every unsightly pound I ultimately had to shed and the cold sweats I ultimately had to endure by quitting smoking.

Plus, I wouldn't have seen (or heard second hand through my roomates) some of the ridiculous things I'm about to share with you:

-My buddy Zack, a gentleman who turned into the Incredible Hulk when drinking, once ripped a toilet out of the dorm bathroom after the Giants and Redskins tied 7-7, dragged it to the room where everyone was drinking, peed in it, and was arrested about 15 minutes later.

-Someone who may or may not be me, while being arrested by a large female police officer for being intoxicated in public, informed said officer that she couldn't catch me unless I had a doughnut taped to my back, and that she was "Go' have to take me!"

-Watched my roommate Seth get hogtied and tossed into a police car...on his birthday

-Zack, handcuffed to a keg, broke free from the cuffs to pimp slap Master Mike for pouring beer on him

-Jason's room in our senior year house, which had heating vents made from Chips Ahoy boxes (in retrospect, not necesssarily the safest choice), had a wall made of a large wooden plank. We learned that we could, with a running start, jump through it into his bedroom. We each did it at least once, much to Jason's dismay, including some of our girlfriends. We wanted to convince his parents to do it at our graduation...but got too drunk.

-After being caught by the head RA on the porch of Jefferson Hall, drinking 40's of OE (shirtless) on a couch we dragged outside, Whitey and I proceeded to spend 30 minutes in his office trying to convince him that we weren't doing anything wrong and that he should "just look the other way". Whitey still has a copy of the incident report (if you read this, send me a scanned copy!)

There are a lot more, some of which I recall and some which I do not. If you went to school with me, feel free to share!

Do I Feel Funny?

So Michelle emailed me today and asked if I wanted to go out to dinner tonight. It sounded like an excellent idea, so we decided to go to Carlyle in Shirlington.

I happened to glance at my desktop calendar, and noticed that it was April 21st. I tried to think back to the exact date when I had my last alcoholic beverage, and- lo and behold- it was March 21st!

Now, I planned to wait until this Saturday to tickle my liver with the sweet, sweet nectar of the gods, but hey- I think I proved my point. It's been exactly one month, so I think it's about time to treat myself. In a way, I think it's a good thing that I didn't even notice that my month had come and gone. Yeah, that's my story and I'm sticking to it...

SO, I rocked 2 glasses of wine with dinner. They were awesome. Don't you judge me!

The wine was delicious, thank you very much, and on the way home I realized I felt a little tipsy. Looks like my tolerance went bye-bye. Ordinarily, after having wine with dinner, I'd come home and polish off a couple beers- I am happy to report that I was able to cut myself off.*

*I purposely kept the beer in the pantry to prepare for this possibility. I know myself pretty well!

Anyway, I feel like the fact that I only had 2 glasses of wine, still got to experience a silly little buzz, and didn't come home and indulge my drunk tooth shows that I may be on the right track.

PS- I still feel funny! How the hell did I go this long?!

Leveling Off

So I didn't lose any weight this week, which frustrates me like a summamabitch.

After all, I've temporarily embraced the sober lifestyle, so where's the instant gratification? I worked out 5 days this week, ate reasonably well and resisted temptation, and yet I was greeted by a big, fat 236.0 yesterday morning.

What makes this all the more frustrating is the fact that the last time I lost a significant amount of weight, I drank pretty much the entire time. I cut out the heavy stuff like Belgian beers and strong microbrews and skipped a lot of Friday happy hours, but you best believe I filled my cup with some potent vodka cocktails every Saturday.

Could it be possible that drinking helped me lose weight last year? Should I make a beeline for the ABC Sto' and get my Goose on? While that would be the most practical solution, I suppose I'll borrow a page from Obama's playbook and go "line by line" through my food budget and workout program and pledge to cut out some delicious, fatty pork. I guess I could also go and get my bike fixed, seeing that cycling helped me drop tonnage more than anything I did last year. Behold, my amazing powers of deduction!

So after the scale dropped that bombshell on me, Michelle and I went to Charlottesville for the day to walk around downtown, check out Monticello- or as I call it "home of the original baby daddy", and have dinner with her friend Elizabeth. We ducked into a bar when we first got to town to watch game 2 of the Rangers/Capitals series, which turned out to be a bad decision. The Capitals, despite the strong goaltending effort put forth by 20 year old rookie phenom Simeon "The Iron Curtain" Varlamov, lost to the Rags 1-0, putting them in a 2-0 hole in the series heading to New York for game 3. Not looking good, gentlemen. Not looking good at all. Just what is "Let's Go Goats" supposed to do all summer? Just what the heck is he supposed to do???

To make matters worse, I was tempted to order a beer more than any point during my challenge. I'm not sure if it was the 70 degree weather, the frustration of watching shot after shot richochet off of "King Henrik" Lundqvist's gargantuan pads, the stress of my epic "fail on the scale", the sight of Michelle enjoying her Sam Adams Summer Ale, or the fact that there was a little blue Chimay bottle amongst the choices atop the bar whispering "drink me". It was probably a combination of all 3. Whatever the reason, it was the urge I thought I would experience a lot more this month, telling me to give in.

Luckily, as quickly as it came, my urge to wet the whistle sailed away through the open door as I sipped my ginger ale.

The rest of the trip was great- we got to see TJ's freeky-deeky jungle fever love den (his bed was pretty small- he must have been flexible), had some delicious pork tacos with some insanely hot hot sauce, and made it home by midnight. Gonna have to do some serious work in the gym this week, because...brace yourselves...I only have 1 week left! Guess we'll find out if I learned anything.

PS- "College Panek" bio coming the next couple days. Got a bit tied up on my day off on Friday being all productive and shit.

Let's Go Goats!

So I went to the first game of the Caps/Rangers playoff series last night, and I'm beginning to think that fate wants me to drink.

After all, I was the only one at dinner last weekend who got a shitty meal and receive an incorrect bill, and the Caps, who took 7 out of a possible 8 points in the regular season series, decided to throw up a stinker to kick off the series, thanks to Jose "Three-Or-More" allowing some fairly questionable goals (see below) with my sober ass in attendance.

Eh, whatever- I'm sure it's just a coincidence. After all, judging by the wait staff, I probably wasn't the only person who got a jacked up bill. Plus, there were about 20,000 other people who saw the same game as I did last night- and many of them were definitely NOT abstaining from alcohol.

Now, I usually behave myself at Caps games, with a few exceptions where I may have been a beligerant drunken lunatic. Generally speaking, though, I'll enjoy 3-5 beers, "rock the red", cheer for Ovie and the boys, and head home, so being sober at the game last night wasn't really that much of a stretch. However, the combination of my sobriety and the fact that last night's game was the beginning of the playoffs, which definitely takes the intensity (and inebriation) at the Verizon Center up a notch, certainly made the drunken antics around me stand out a good bit more than usual.

I've probably been to about 6-7 Caps games this year, and never saw anyone ejected from the arena. Last night, I saw a group of screaming, ornery Rags fans bounced after 1 period. During the second intermission, I saw a 50-something gentleman in an Ovechkin jersey, waiting in line for the bathroom, execute a perfect "hip check" on a passing Ranger fan- probably in his mid 20's. Nearly knocked the him off his feet! The Rags fan and his buddy- from the look of them a couple of hardscrabble Ney Yawkas- were not amused. I thought for sure that a fight was gonna break out, but the 2 Youts decided it wasn't worth it (I think the one guy said "You're lucky you're old as fuck!).

In other words, playoff hockey + beer = fun!

So Tommy has a pair of season tickets, so I've gone with him to enough games where I'm pretty familiar with the section regulars. There's "Asian Sam Kinison", a chubby 20-something dude who sits a row behind us who, until the first time I turned around, I thought from the sound of his voice was going to be a red-faced 50 year old man. There's a fairly normal couple- the chick's got a bit of a Lisa Loeb vibe goin' on, and the dude always wears a green hat.

Then there's "Let's Go Goats"...

The guy who sits a couple seats down from us is a giant grizzly bear of a man. From his appearance, he's probably in his 40's, with a goatee, beady eyes and a red Caps jersey with no name. No matter what day of the week the Caps play, this guy is double-fisting beers. He polishes them off, 2 at a time, and before we even realize it, he's back with 2 more. At 7 bucks a beer, 41 home games, and probably about 6-8 beers a game- you can imagine how much this wildebeast spends on beers during a typical Caps season. A few more seasons of this guy and Ted Leonsis can buy the Nats!

So about halfway through the game, this guy starts going ballistic. It generally doesn't really matter if the Caps are winning- he's going ape shit about some percieved slight against the Caps. His rallying cry of "LET'S GO CAAAAAPS!" becomes so garbled that Tom pointed out that it sounds like "LET'S GO GGGOAAAATS!!!" I just marvel at how consistent he is- the guy does the EXACT same thing at prety much every game I've attended.

Last night, however, he managed to top himself. We thought it was strange that he rolled in with a large cola...until we noticed that he was drunker than usual. There was definitely some bourbon in that bad boy. As soon as the Coke was gone, the usual double fisting and "LET'S GO GOATS!!!" chants started up. By the time the game was over, Goats wasn't even speaking English. Once it became apparent the Caps were going to drop game 1, he kept turning to the people behind him and speaking jibberish- something to the effect of "Theze peeeeple, I hate 'em...just gotta be like me....I gotta hate em..."

The funny thing is, I bet Let's Go Goats is some kind of important executive who opts to sit in cheaper seats and spend the difference on thousands of beers.

Before I go, here's Alex Ovechkin attempting to sing the "Eastern Motors" jingle.

Without A Net

When contemplating my weekend, I came to the conculsion that going to a bar sober is, in a way, like walking a tightrope without a net.

 

What's that you say?  Take my fruity metaphors and stick them where?  Well, fuck you!

 

I'm not sure about anyone else, but when I get banged up, I am capable of doing some crazy shit.  Not bat-shit crazy, retardedly violent crazy, or creepy crazy- just crazy in the sense that, if done sober, my actions may raise a few eyebrows.  Some examples include dancing on tables, doing "the worm" at wedding receptions (well, I've done that sober ,so maybe that's a bad example), leading the bar in some sort of chant or sing-a-long, or doing an impromptu jam session with the band at my 5 year high school reunion.  Basically anything that makes me the center of attention- occasionally having fun at other people's expense- but probably wouldn't get me arrested (the upcoming "College Panek" section will address the rare exception). 

Being at the bar sober on Saturday, I didn't have a strong urge to draw much attention to myself.  I was content to relax in the corner seat of our booth and watch the drunken comedy unfold before me.  However, as the night rolled on, I thought to myself "If I were to start dancing on a table right now, or tried to get everyone singing along to "Shipping Up To Boston", everyone I came with would think I'm actually a crazy person."  Would that be so bad?  Well, no- not really.  I've never really been that concerned about what other people think of me (sometimes to Michelle's dismay), so why not draw a little attention to myself?  I busted out some dance moves on Saturday, which was just as fun as drunken dancing (although my drunk moves were probably a little better), so next time I go out without the drank stripping away my inhibitions, I think I'm going to act up a little more and see what it's like.  One of the points of this little exercise (which I keep adding as I go...it's my perrogative!) was to prove to myself that I could still have fun and go out with my friends when not under the influence.

 

Even though I had a good time, It was a little unsettling that I didn't have the excuse "I was drunk" to fall back on in case I managed to piss someone off.   

 

However insignificant it might seem, it was always in the very back of my mind- after all, I've been at the same routine for 10 years now.  While I think it's a legitimate excuse to explain away silly behavior such as accidentally spilling beer on somebody's shirt, telling a story really loudly over and over again (guilty as charged!), or making a comment without thinking that someone takes the wrong way, I don't believe that being drunk allows one to write a blank check for mayhem.  After all, the reason I (and most people I know) drink is to make myself feel funny, become a bit less coordinated, and reduce my inibitions to the point where I want to cause a mild scene- not become a menace to society.   A little spillage and the occasional loud or off-color remark come with the territory.   Still, after taking a step back, I guess I should probably either use that excuse a little less when I return to the realm of boozy pleasures, or try not to be quite as much of a buffoon.

 

Granted, being sober probably eliminates 99 percent of the silly crap I do at bars that might unintentionally annoy my friends, but it's still hard to get used to not having that one multi-purpose excuse to explain away any and all transgressions- walking that tightrope without a net.   After all, old habits die hard.  I guess I'll just have to take more responsibility for my actions like a sucker!

 

 

 

 

Herdin' Cats

So, last night was aight. I managed to have a good time without drinking...at a bar; something I wouldn't have thought possible before I began this sobering spiritual odyssey. My patience was tried on a few occasions, for sure, but I'm happy to report that I was able to look past the legion of annoying drunkards and layer of cigarette smoke and have a good time with my friends.

Started the day at Carpool, which I figured would be a good bar to ease me into my sober barhopping adventure, since playing pool and shooting at cyber-deer with a fake plastic shotgun would help fill the void left by barley and hops. I met up with Jimmy, John, Natasha and her friend whose name eludes me at the moment...I know it starts with an L (apparently I'm forgettful when sober too) to celebrate Jimmy's birthday. Since we decided to meet up at 3 pm because Jimmy had to be up early in the morning, the bar was pretty empty, and the lack of a drunken horde bumping into me was much appreciated.

The afternoon went pretty well, since I pretty much played pool and "Big Buck Hunter" constantly, but the first thing I noticed was that sober bar time moves about twice as slowly as drunken bar time. I'd get through a few games of pool, talk to the group, and when I checked my watch only 20 minutes had gone by since the last time I checked. Weird.

Another thing that really weirded me out happened after about 2 hours at Carpool. Michelle, Becky and Stan showed up, and Stan and I started a game of pool. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a fairly creepy looking old man standing about 5 feet away from our table...staring at us. I tried to ignore him and carry on with the game, but every 5 minutes or so I'd look up and he'd still be there. He must have stood in the same spot, for a solid 30 minutes, just staring at our pool table. I'm not really sure why he was staring, since we aren't terribly good or bad at pool, but it was really bizarre.

I'm sure I would have been just as weirded out by the wacky, elderly pool afficianad had I been intoxicated. The only difference, as far as I can tell, is that Drunk Panek may have asked him if he wanted to play a game and asked him some probing questions to determine the source of his weirdness. Chalk one up for Sober Panek, since by the look of him, he'd have probably said some really weird shit.

Oh, and for the record, being sober didn't really affect my pool game at all. In fact, I was consistently better than when I played drunk- maybe a little worse than the height of my "drunk zone", but overall much better sober. Guess it's back to the drawing board on that one.

So we left the gang at Carpool and headed to dinner at 7, and met the rest of our dinner party at Caribbean Breeze, the cheezy looking-yet surprisingly good restaurant/cheezy night club. Nobody was drunk at this point, but the drinks were definitely flowing. I was tempted to snag Michelle's mojito, take it to the head, and suck the remaining goodness out of the sugarcane stick...but resisted once my delicious pomegranate iced tea showed up.

I'm not sure what the good Lord was trying to tell me at dinner, but for some reason I was the only one who had a bad experience. My food came out cold, didn't taste a hell of a lot better once it came out of the microwave, I got charged for an alcoholic beverage which I didn't consume, and my stomach started doing backflips shortly after we left. Everyone with delicious margaritas, mojitos, cervezas, and capirinhas got delicious entrees, and their checks were added correctly. I'm going to assume that my particularly outstanding pomegranate iced tea was meant to show me that my trials, albeit difficult at times will ultimately have positive results.

That's my story, and I'm sticking to it.

So, we hopped in the car and headed over to Whitlow's to see "Back To Zero", the band that played at Stan and Becky's wedding that was really awesome. Too bad Stan's German relatives couldn't join them for an impromptu accordion session like they did at the wedding! EINS, ZWEI, STUFFE!!!!!

I paid my and Michelle's cover and we walked in, meeting up with everyone and getting a spot at the bar, which was pretty crowded at this point. One of the aspects of the bar scene that I find especially annoying is constantly being bumped by people who are unaware of their surroundings, so it came to no surprise that within 5 minutes of walking in some big galoot bumped into me, lurching forward to bump into Michelle- never breaking stride when telling his buddies some story that was evidentally the most hilarious story ever told. From one galloot to another, I must say that was poor galloot ettiquite.

Much like the pomegranate iced tea saved dinner, a booth opened up and saved my Whitlow's experience. Despite the fact that the bouncers told us that the booths were reserved for the "dinner crowd" for another 45 minutes, I wasn't going to be denied. I sat at that booth for the rest of the night, while people came and went, and watched the night unfold before my eyes. I could see the drinks working their magic with my "enhanced" powers of sober perception, all the while taking notes on my cellphone notepad (probably looked like a tool, but almost everyone else was drunk, so they probably didn't even notice!)

Without further ado, my notes-

-Jimmy slapped my ass about 10 times at Carpool, yelling "GOOD GAME!"
-I checked my watch about twice as many times than I would sober
-I shot at the wrong ball in a pool game, something I do a lot drunk. Apparently I can be fairly absent minded without the help of alcohol.
-A young lady tried to stand up, fell back down, her shirt fell down (luckily for her she was wearing a bra), and she was then carried out of the bar by a chivalrous (hopefully) young gentleman
-Was educated about a sexual position known as the "Eiffel Tower"
-Another young lady walked up to a guy and yelled "That's not your beer!", switched beers with him, and walked away. From the look of it, the dude had never seen her before in his life. I wonder if she thought he roofie'd her drink?
-I got charged 3.00 for a coke! Way to promote designated driving, Whitlow's!
-A guy outside karate kicked a tree about 10 times! That tree must have wronged him in some terrible way. I can't really talk, seeing that I've taken my drunken anger out on inanimate objects before; they're easy targets.
-Being a big galloot, I stumbled into a group of people...totally sober. I apologized and went on my way.
-I made a point to get my dance on to see if it was still awesome without beer. It was.

11:51- Everybody's drunk! Everybody's talking really loudly!!!
11:53- Stanley purchases first round of Jager shots
12:02- Stan, Becky and "the other Michelle" are in a big group hug. The group hug is moving from the bar to the table!
12:10- Stan tries to give "the other Michelle's" boyfriend 2 dollars to buy 4 shots of Jager
12:11- Rejected, Stan went to the bar and harrassed the gentleman sitting next to him with a plastic M&M., which the guy eventually bitchslapped across the bar. I stood between them so Stan could buy the 4 shots on his credit card
12:12- Everyone else had gone home, so Stan had to do 2 of the 4 shots. I decided it was time to go
12:30- Finally managed to corral everyone and get them to the car. Wasn't easy!

All and all, I had a really good time, despite having to do a little "cat herding" at the end of the night (our vases nearly met their untimely end!). I noticed a lot of strange and hilarious things that I wouldn't normally notice under the influence, and was pleased to find out that I could actually have a good, sober time at a bar. Drunk people are a hilarious, emotional, and occasionally surly bunch, and I look forward to rejoining their ranks...just on a slightly less regular basis. At least now I know that being on the other side sometimes isn't so bad.

I'll have to find out how the rest of Jimmy's night (and this morning) went, snce his car was still at Carpool when we left for Whitlow's. Hopefully someone was there to take notes!

Saturday

Getting ready to head out for lunch and then my marathon of non-drinking barhopping. Hopefully I won't go too crazy, come back with some good stories and funny observations, and none of my friends turn into blithering idiots! At some point I really need to invest in a blackberry so I can do some live blogging...maybe I'll grab one with some of my bar tab savings.

Had my weekly weigh-in-

Wasn't terrible, wasn't great,
but it's less than last week, so I don't really give a heck.

Dreams

One benefit of my drinking hiatus that I'm really starting to enjoy is having a normal sleep cycle.  I figured this would be one of the perks when I placed myself on leave from the weekend wars, but I had no idea that I would experience such a dramatic difference so quickly. 

 

I'm not sure when it started, but at some point my weeks began to fall into a distinct pattern; drink a little on Friday, drink a lot on Saturday, recover all day Sunday, toss, turn, sweat (occasionally have nightmares) while getting maybe 4-5 hours of actual sleep on Sunday night, sleepwalk through Monday, feel moderately normal and occasionally struggle to fall asleep on Tuesday, and spend Wednesday through Friday afternoon feeling 100 percent.

 

Lather, rinse, repeat...

 

 

Since I somehow allowed that routine to became such a part of my life, I was never really able to step back and realize how absurd it was to constantly put myself through the ringer like that.  What really hit home was how easy it's been for me to sleep now that I've been walking the straight and narrow path of the Shirley Temple. 

 

Not only have I been regularly having nights of uninterrupted sleep, starting roughly a week into my challenge, but I've also been having really vivid, mostly awesome dreams.  I even had a dream last night in which I was drunk!  How weird is that shit?!  I was riding the metro home with my buddy Will at about 2am, and, as I've done so many times, decided to serenade my fellow passengers with a song and dance routine.  I broke into a classic from "Rob and Big" by Rob's alter ego, the one-hit wonder R&B sensation "Bobby Light", called "Dirty Girl", and had the train clapping along to the beat.  Suddenly, 2 large black gentlemen with big bushy beards approached me.  They rolled right up on me, which was a little intimidating since they were both easily 350 pounds.  They removed their beards to reveal they were none other than Christopher "Big Black" Boykin and his buddy Bam Bam.  I wasn't sure how they'd react to my rendition of "Dirty Girl", since they co-wrote the song and rap on the track, but they immediately joined in and finished the song in style, dancing and booty-shakin' up and down the aisle. 

 

Freakin' sweet!

 

I was thinking about my recent run of good dreams, and the only thing I can come up with is that they're my body's way of thanking me for giving it a break!  I buy that explanation just as much as any physiological evidence.

 

I'm going to be nicer to my body from now on...it may be funny looking, a little too hairy, and rather pasty, but it's the only one I've got.  I may run a few pints through it from time to time after this is over, but I'm only going to be a "Weekend National Guard Reservist" after a 13 year tour as a weekend warrior*

 

*with the occasional call-up for "active duty"

 

 

-Sent from my Gmail account

Field Work

Well, the alcoholic challenge is progressing well; the weight's starting to come off, I haven't had any "Leaving Las Vegas" moments where I woke up shaking on the kitchen floor with only a bottle of vodka in the refrigerator (not that I've ever had one, but this is the first time I've deprived myself of alcohol for this long, so we're kind of in uncharted territory), and I've had a generally positive experience in my temporarily sober state.

To that end, I'll be embarking on my latest mission to test my mettle this weekend; sober barhopping.

Sounds ridiculous, I know, and I'd be lying if I wasn't a tad apprehensive about the prospect of going to several different bars, packed with drunk people who want to stumble into me and enough alcohol to take down John Daly, beckoning to me to break my vow of beer celibacy. Plus, we'll be entertaining some houseguests this weekend, including Stan- who just so happens to be ridiculously fun to drink with and has a penchant for ordering rounds of Jager shots before anybody has a chance to object.

If you'd have asked me to consider sober barhopping under these conditions 3 weeks ago, I'd have almost certainly given you the gasface. After going a few weeks without drinking, though, I really doubt it will be that bad. I am actually really looking forward to it, despite the fact that I'll be playing the role typically reserved for my friends' pregnant wives- the desingated driver (whaaaat?)

My first real extended sober foray into the bar scene will definitely be interesting. I'm looking at it as something like an expedition- "field work", if you will. I'll do my best to provide an account of how my evening progresses- the good times, the annoying times, the cravings, whether sobriety adversely affects my pool game as badly as it affected my bowling...anything and everything the the night has in store for me (with names falsified to protect the intoxicated).

I hope to return to you with my alcoho-abstinence vow (and my sanity) in tact!

Classic

This clip from the film Beerfest, in my humble opinion, epitomizes the dichotomy of what goes on in a drunk person's head versus what's actually going on like none other.

Enjoy.

Noise

So I hit up Clyde's to meet some of my former co-workers last night...at happy hour. I stared temptation smack in the face, and I'm proud to say that my chastity belt remained in tact. I was actually more tempted by a really fruity looking key lime martini looking thing one of the ladies was drinking than the beer; I seem to be learning more about myself in my alcohol deprived state than I care to find out...

Anyway, I had a good time, but was definitely more aware of some of the more annoying aspects of the bar scene. I definitely noticed the smoke in the air more without drinking (good work on getting that taken care of in 2010, VA legislature), and I definitely noticed the noise a LOT more.

I've never really been able to hear myself think at a vast majority of bars, but it never really mattered, since I have selective hearing when I'm under the influence, and I tend to talk about 5 times louder than I normally would. Last night, though, I couldn't block out the noise, which was annoying because I actually wanted to hear what everybody was saying.

Weird.

Ok, so it's time to see if this madness is having any beneficial effects on my body. And the scale says...

Okay- that's better! Dropped 3 pounds in the first week. Not bad- I felt like my belly was jiggling a bit less this week.

1994-95

The 90’s-

The glorious Clinton years were in full swing, Toby Bailey, Ed O’Bannon and the UCLA Bruins cut down the nets, Steve Young finally got that monkey off his back and won the Super Bowl, Ace Of Base was taking America by storm with their techno-infused Swedish beats (I admit it, I had the album)….

And, in the heart of Westminster, Maryland, an 17 year-old Panek got drunk for the first time.

To the casual observer, it wasn’t terribly noteworthy; I went to a party, drank 4 Keystone Lights, threw up on my shoes, smoked 3 Swisher Sweet cigarillos, and woke up on a pile of blankets on the living room floor.

It was also the greatest night of my 17 year old life.

I spent the early part of high school basically picking up where I left off in middle school; pissing my teachers off with my grating yet witty sense of humor, telling dick jokes with my friends, and wondering just how the hell I was ever going to ever get invited to a party or touch my first boob.

Junior year was another matter, though, and I finally got invited to one of these huge parties I had heard so much about. Years of painstakingly making friends with people who knew people had finally paid off! So, I abandoned my closest friends who didn’t get the invite (I later found out that they almost called the police and had the party busted, but decided to spare me at the last minute…if they did, I’d have totally deserved it!) and riding out to the party with some of my lacrosse teammates.

I don’t really remember much from that night, on account of the fact that I was drunk back then and am currently old as fuck. I know they actually had an “invite list”- as if a gathering of drunken high school kids in Carroll County was Studio Fucking 54- and that I was somehow on it. “Friends in Low Places” and “The Thunder Rolls” by Garth Brooks were on a constant loop all night, I’m pretty sure I remember some dick from the football team wanting to beat me up for bumping into him, and, as I mentioned before, I painted my shoes with Keystone.

A funny thing happened that night, though. After cleaning my shoes and composing myself, I realized that being drunk is fucking awesome.

I cracked jokes and smoked cigars with people that would normally never give me the time of day, grabbed girls and danced with them in the living room (during the rare times when somebody put on something other than Garth Brooks), and felt pretty invincible until I passed out in the living room. I decided then and there that I was going to go to a party every weekend for the rest of my high school career. *
*Didn’t go to another party for 3 months

One thing I can say with certainty is that going to that party definitely changed my life.
I made several friends that night with whom I still keep in touch, finally got to touch a boob (it was awesome), and realized that all of my years of being a class clown made me an absolute hit at parties. For the rest of high school (and to some degree, to this very day), I took pride in being the center of attention at every party I attended. If I wasn’t phoning local businesses impersonating different “Jerky Boy” voices, I was breaking out some crazy dance moves or trying to break the world beer bong speed record…and loving every minute of it.

And thus, being the life of the party became young Panek’s way of life...

Random facts about high school Panek:
-Smoked Marlboro Lights, as did about 90 percent of teenage boys in Westminster
-Owned CDs by Hootie and the Blowfish, Seven Mary Three, and Silverchair (I really thought they'd be around forever!)
-Once was tricked into smoking catnip from a corncob pipe by my friends, who told me it was marijuana. They told me the truth only after I started to act stoned.
-Had 2 earrings in my left ear (one on the top)
-Once stood up in the middle of 11th grade American History and yelled “I’LL ROCK YOUR WORLD” at the girl with the best grades in the class after correctly answering a question she didn’t know

Well, hope you enjoyed part 1 in the series.

Coming soon….
College Panek!

1980

How it all began...

Bowling

Scores from 2 weeks ago after drinking a 40 ounce Olde English, Irish Car Bomb, Jameson on the rocks and a gang of beers:
131, 98, 113

Scores from last night, when I was sober as a judge:
93, 99, 110

I've always found it fascinating that drinking seems to enhance my ability to play games like bowling, pool and darts, especially since it affects most people I know in a very similar fashion. Conventional wisdom suggests that the "drunk zone" as we've come to call it is a result of the alcohol molecules adhering to the part of the brain that causes one to overthink small details, which I think is partially true. Take last night, for example; as soon as my buddy Tom commented on my unorthodox form ("dude, why isn't your thumb in the hole?") that has been proven effective in many a drunk bowling session, I couldn't stop obsessing over the way I was throwing the ball. Now, if I had polished off the previously mentioned cornucopia of booze, I a) probably wouldn't have heard what he said, or b) would simply shrugged it off, turned my hat around backwards, taken 3 loping strides, and uncorked a Panek Screwball down the aisle- knocking down all the pins, bouncing the ball into the next lane, or falling on my ass.

While this semi scientific explanation is probably the root cause of the "drunk zone" in bar sports, I'd like to think that alcohol, when consumed in precisely the right quantity, grants some sort of quasi-mystical ability to the Bar Sportsman. For some it may be 2-4 drinks. Others, like myself (particularly in my current, burly state), maybe it's more like 4-7. It's a delicate balance, to be sure. Hit the sauce too softly, and you'll be sweating your next move and actually trying to, you know, work on your bowling form, look at the angles on the pool table, or line up your dart. Take that one drink that puts you over the edge, though, and next think you know you'll get kicked out of the bowling alley and wind up leaving with your bowling shoes still on, shoot the cue ball into the juke box, or hit the bouncer in the ass with a dart. Stick within that "drunk zone", though, and you'll see that next shot in ways that the sober (or extremely inebriated) mind could never see it. You'll react before you think, with unpredictable, but often very favorable results.

Alcohol is probably not the first thing that comes to mind when considering the effects of "performance enhancing drugs" , but if modern science were to really throw some resources into tapping the potential of the "drunk zone"- the sky, my friends, would be the limit.

Interesting...

Well, not surprisingly, I:

-Woke up today with no headache and lots of energy
-Mysteriously have all this money in my wallet
-Got 10 hours of awesome, uninterrupted sleep
-Still managed to have a pretty fun weekend

I wasn't even really tempted to drink TOO many times. I found myself drooling at some guy's Magic Hat #9 at brunch this morning, but I stayed strong and had an orange juice.

I think this month is gonna go pretty well, as long as I kep busy. I think the big challenge will be scaling back a bit once I start drinking again, since, as we've established, moderation has never been my strong suit.

Gonna start working on my "Stages of Panek" stories that chronicle my years of drinking this week..looking for some funny old pics to post.

1 down...30 to go

All things considered, I'd say yesterday went pretty well. Met up with our friends Nick and Cara and saw "I Love You, Man", which was pretty good, although a few of Paul Rudd's awkward moments rang a little close to home!


But I didn't come here to give you a movie review. I came here to tell you that I resisted the call of the margarita from the place next to the theater (heyyyy! where joo goin' papi? !dreeeenk me, gordito! !dreeenk meeeee!) and my only vice was a medium cherry coke. Woke up around 8:30 this morning feeling pretty fantastic, which is pretty awesome considering most Saturdays I wake up with at least a slight headache.. Sweet.


So, I decided that today would be my first weight-in, so I can measure the results of "Panek's Prohibition", and being that I want my readers to get the full "Panek Experience", I decided (against my better judgment) to post the results. Okay...here we go. Let's just get this scale going, step up there and.....
HOLY HELL!

No wonder people have been telling me to avoid motorboat propellers while eating kelp if I ever go swimming in South Florida!

Wow, knew it'd be high, but that's the biggest I've been since my days of double-fistin' foot long breakfast sandwiches at 2 am in Philly back in '99. To put it in perspective, last summer when I rode in the 1oo mile "Tour De Cure" bike ride to fight diabetes, I weighed in at a semi-svelte 216.

Well, I'm not gonna let this get me down. Dropping some tonnage is definitely one of my goals here, and eliminating the double-digit weekend drinks will go a long way to that end. Plus, it's about time to get the bike fixed and hit the trail...hopefully it can still support my enormous bulk! Na, I'm looking forward to getting in better shape. I'm still pretty young, so if I get my act together now, I don't think I'll be in danger of being mistaken for a manatee anytime soon.

Ok, time to get motivated and hit the gym. More to come...

Day 1

Strange...this seems like any other weekday. I honestly thought I'd be more antsy than I am now, but I'm feelin' pretty good. Granted, I'm only a few hours in, and have yet to meet temptation, but I feel better about this little experiment than I did this morning.

Ok, short post today- off to the movies. I'll just walk right past the bar we'd usually hit up for a couple margaritas before the show...no matter how delicious and salty and tequila filled they are (wait, what?)

Tomorrow:
My first weigh-in (break out the special recycling scale!)
My first temptation (basketball with some beers in the building)
Other musings

T-Minus 24 Hours

So I decided the clock is officially started on the "no drink zone".

Yeah, there's no point in delaying it any longer- it'll just make it harder to start next week. Weird, since I'm typically all about procrastination...waiting till the last minute just feels oh so right! I've been less inclined to put things off since I decided to try and pull off December 23rd Christmas shopping...at Tyson's Corner. It took me almost 2 hours to drive 5 miles that day; you best believe I did some drinking as soon as I got home.

It's funny, I told myself that I was gonna just pick a month where it didn't seem like any big parties or any gatherings involving more than 3 of my college buddies (I'm only human, for God's sake!), so April looked like a winner. I also told myself that no month, no matter how innocuous it seems, will be free of temptations to stray from the straight and narrow and walk the path of the Weekend Warrior.

In a perfect world, I'd go about my business, have a quiet, relaxing month with Michelle and hope I don't have any brew-shakes on the first weekend. However, being that I don't live in a cave in Kandahar, situations that would typically involve drinking will inevitably find me. Sure enough, I've already been invited to a happy hour (tonight), another happy hour (tomorrow), and beers and NCAA basketball (Saturday).

Now, I've been contemplating how I'd handle it when the dranks came-a-callin' since I decided to take on this seemingly easy yet every so difficult task, and I came to the conclusion that I'm just gonna try and roll like a regular "Joe No-Pack".

I mean, I'd like to think my friends are still going to invite me to stuff, even if they may not get as much intentional and unintentional comedy out of me. I think as long as I avoid certain situations that almost necessitate some heavy duty drinking, I can get through this month pretty easily. Some of these include:

Socially Awkward/Forced Situations
I can't stand being in a situation where I'm in a social situation with a person and they either won't talk or won't shut the hell up. Yeah, there's no way I'm ever abandoning that abuse of alcohol. I'm pretty sure that type of situation is why ancient civilizations discovered alcohol in the first place. Better avoid all strangers entirely, just to be on the safe side.

All-Day Drinking Festivals
This one goes without saying, I guess, but figured I'd mention these because they used to be something I really looked forward to. Nothing quite like being 4 beers deep before noon; it seems like the day will never end...until you suddenly wake up in a strange place with one shoe on*

*Partially based on true events

Anyway, I don't think I really like the big all day drunken debacles like Shamrockfest here in DC anymore. Maybe it's the fact that I have a diminished tolerance for meatheads with popped collars and chicks vomiting on their shoes on the metro at 7 am. Call me old fashioned. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to chase these teenagers off my lawn.

The Virginia State Beer Pong Tournament
Okay, okay- you get the idea.

Yeah, the more I think about my drink free April, the more I think that it's mainly gonna be about getting used to a new routine. I think doing something every weekend for a number of years has just gotten me into the habit of bending the elbow (at some point I'm going to run out of drinking metaphors!) on a regular basis. I tend to find change scary and confusing at times, and I think this is no different than how I've handled a number of things in my life. Michelle's been very helpful to me in this regard- thanks to her, I discovered I like broccoli, enjoy going to spin class, and like more than one sandwich at the Lost Dog Cafe- I think having her around will do wonders for my little alcoholic challenge.

So, I think what I'll do is lay low tomorrow, watch some basketball with my friends while sipping on a coca cola (and possibly overeating...Rome wasn't built in a day), and hit up brunch with my friend on Sunday in lieu of Friday happy hour. Looks like everything's wrapped up in a nice little package! This should be no problem at all.

...but I know it won't be that easy.

Remote Posting!!!

I'm making this post via my gmail account, so brace yourselves...you're in for a white-knuckle thrill ride!

Actually, don't have a heck of a lot goin' on right now. My life is pretty ordinary on most weekdays, which is how I like it (for the most part). I finally feel like I've rejoined the realm of the living after my 2 day hangover, although I woke up this morning with some nasty back pain, which kind of sucks. While I can't really blame that on any drunken injuries, I can't rule out the fact that my interrupted sleep schedule caused violent some late night flounder-flopping, which led to my tweaked back. Okay, maybe that was a bit harsh. After all, I'm not looking for a permanent divorce from sweet lady liquor...I just need my space.

SO, as I said yesterday, I am contemplating getting on with my little experiment starting this weekend. Of course, as soon as I almost make the decision to put my plan in motion, I got a Facebook message from a friend from out of town who's gonna be here in Alexandria on Friday and looking to hit some bars.

Now, the way I see it, this could go one of three ways. Since I didn't initially plan to start my hiatus until April 1st, I wouldn't technically be "cheating", so I could just do what I would generally do and get crunked, take a cab home, and wake up hung over and missing some cash. I actually don't feel like doing that at all, believe it or not. I could also make an excuse, hang out at home and shun the outside world, and suggest we do lunch on Saturday. Totally not my style, and I don't really like missing fun times. I COULD also opt for moderation and go out for an hour or 2, catch up, tuck myself in early and hope that the "3 beer hangover" doesn't set in- a test of will power, to be sure. That actually sounds like the best option, if not an early barometer of my will power to succumb the sweet siren song of the Irish Car Bomb.

Not sure which way I'll go yet, to be honest. Michelle will be with me and can be fairly influential as to when I leave bars (a pinch to the ear generally does the trick, although I never make it easy to remove me from a bar!), so I think I may opt to go out, have a couple of farewell drinks, and embark on my odessy on Saturday. We shall see...we shall see.

Guess that's it for this evening. Once my dry-out begins, I've decided that I'm going to write a 4-part series chronicling the evolution of my relationship with alcohol. I'll start with 17 year old Panek right around the time he vomited on his shoes after drinking 3 Keystone Lights in 1994. Then I'll move on to College Panek- virtuoso of the beer bong, host of the bitchinest parties this side of Charles and Hawke St, and conisseur of the plastic liquor bottle. We'll catch up with Philly Panek and explore his penchant for Yuengling Lager and double fisting large breakfast sandwiches at 2 am, and his eventual metamorphosis into a fairly physically fit and active Weekend Warrior. Finally, we'll look at my life since I moved to VA...which has been very cool but occasionally a tad overindulgent- a balancing act between 100 mile bike rides and high octane Belgian beers (oh, how I'll miss them...).

I'll keep em short and sweet, and make sure to include some hilarious pictures that sum up my state at each stage. I think you'll like them.

Ok, Suze Orman's gonna tell me how to save some money now...if she saw some of my bar tabs, she'd pull my ass out of that bar by the ear before Michelle could even get to me.

Weight Watchin'

This gentleman is Grady Jackson, defensive tackle for the Detroit Lions. He and I have a lot in common.

I can't pull off a mustard colored velvet jumpsuit (I wish I could, believe me), take on two 300 pound offensive lineman at once, and from what I can tell from this photo, Grady drives a much fancier car than me.

No, Grady and I both have issues with keeping out weight under control. Grady's weight gain may be on a grander scale- an ESPN article said that Grady "is listed at 350 pounds, but appears much larger" (Ouch!), but I too have trouble keeping the scale at a level at which I'm comfortable. It's pretty stressful to try to maintain a low weight, and I don't even have to deal with getting fined by my NFL franchise for every pound overweight I am at the morning weigh in! No wonder Grady felt pressure to use the banned substance "StarCaps" to drop some tonnage...he's only human! LEAVE GRADY JACKSON ALONE!

Okay, back to me. Now, I could bellyache and blame my weight on my slow-as-molasses metabolism (thanks Mom & Dad). impotently pissing and moaning- cursing evolution for making this way as I've done so many times before, or I could do something about it.

Now, I've had varying degrees of success losing weight since my college days (I will eventually summon the courage to post a picture of myself from college. My friend Tom recently said I was like "Mega Panek"), but the weight always seems to sneak back up on me and make me all soft and puffy. Now, let's see...what's been a constant vice in my life the past, oh, 13 years?

Could it be a certain calorie-laden substance that lowers my inhibitions and increases the likelihood of me spontaneously breaking out goofy white boy dance moves every 7 days??? Yup, it's the booze.

Today I was thinking about how many calories I must put down on some weekends, and it's pretty staggering to think of it in those terms. Even when I have an evening of "light" drinking ("priming the engine", remember?), I really like to drink Belgian beer and other heavy brews...Michelob Ultra they ain't. I'd venture to say that a night of moderate drinking (in my terms, anyway) would equate to a roughly the caloric equivalent of an average sized Thanksgiving dinner, with a Boston creme pie thrown in for good measure. All the spin classes in the world aren't gonna burn that off.

So, I'm pretty confident that my drinking hiatus will help me to melt off some unsightly pounds, which is definitely a motivation for me to succeed. Nothing quite like having the ole trousers fiting a little bit more loosely to make you feel like a million bucks! I hope that my introspective look at the overindulgences in my life will help me become a bit more moderate...I'm pretty sure it will.

If not, guess I'll be shopping for a new mustard velvet jumpsuit!

Well folks, that's about it for now. Feeling fairly crappy today (after hitting 30, the hangovers tend to last for 2 days), so I think I'm gonna start my month off one week early...no sense putting it off any more. Time to DO WORK!

Fire!

Keg of dogfish head 60 minute ipa last night at my stepsister's place in baltimore. Good times.

So we're about halfway into the party, and her husbnd decided to show off his juggling skills...

...with flaming chains! Nothing says safety like drinking and fire.

Feeling tired and sluggish today, and haven't really done too much, which is a shame considering how nice it is outside. I have a feeling that once I hit the brakes on the booze train for a while, my weekends won't go by so fast. Now I've just got to figure out what I'm going to do with all this extra time!

Remoresful Duff

Wow, so that was quite a day. Not really sure why I started writing the lyrical stylings of Humpty Hump and the Big Tymers last night...guess that's the fun of the drunk post. Drunk posting is like a box of chocolates...chocolates filled with alcohol.

Feeling pretty lousy today, and then I looked in the mirror...

HOLY HELL!

WOW! I look as good as I feel. Glad I've got a haircut at 1 today. Better not step on the scale- I retain water like Sally Struthers.

I had a good time yesterday- went bowling, watched some good basketball, and hung out with my friends. I don't THINK I did anything too silly, aside from repeatedly asking Natasha "we're going bowling, aren't we??? please say we're going bowling!" I tend to get a little repetitive when I drink malt liquor.

But still, looking at my ramblings from last night, my disheveled appearance this morning, and feeling the throbbing pain in my head validates my decision to take a break from the madness for a bit. I'm pretty sure I'll still be the entertaining gentleman you all know and love when I'm sober...but I may not call you at 3 am quite as often.

aight

stop whatcha doin
cause om about to ruin

the image and tje style what ya used to

unda my nutz was 2 ounces o crack...
fronted my lil whoadie
an ounce of crack

druuuuuuuuuuuunk

dank beers

hahaha

feeling a little bit drunk right about now

ive abandoned capitalization and punctuation, and my head feels funny. and now, some random thoughts-

-kevin pittsnogle now lives in a trailer
-tommy drank a red JOOSE
-why the fuck isn't west virginia fouling!?!?!
-joe flacco lives with his parents
-basketbawful
-tommy is changing behind the bar!!!! stop it!
-west virginia is shitting the bed
-tavares gooden is a prama, and knows his multiplication tables
-bout to go bowling! i'm definitely bowling a 220

if you think i'm bad...

wait till you read this. this guy was the president of mary washington!

/i'm drunk
//but at least i didn't bust out of a hospital after drunkenly flipping my car, busting out of the hospital, getting another car, popping 2 tires, and getting arrested AGAIN!

http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2007/11/30/AR2007113001755.html

It's On...

All Warmed Up

I'm getting pretty damned excited about my upcoming day of drinking and basketball.

My warmup drinks from last night seem to have done their job and didn't cross over to the dreaded "light drinking hangover"- another strange drinking phenomenon where a seemingly light evening of drinking causes an inexplicably bad hangover. This tends to increase with age.

I grant you, some may not consider 5 brown ales and a glass of Chimay "light drinking", but those people are definitely NOT my target audience and I do not value their opinions on alcohol. I mean, I don't tell them how to do....whatever it is they do.

I've been a productive member of society today; I cleaned my condo, went to the dry cleaner's and got gas for my awesome yellow Subaru Baja (jealous?). However, this is just the calm before the storm.

Later today, I'll make a drunken post or 2. Don't be alarmed if you see many spelling/grammatical errors, long diatribes against my perceived enemies, or videos of me dropping glasses of alcohol into other glasses of alcohol and drinking them very quickly...it's perfectly normal.

I'm pretty interested/apprehensive to see how this turns out, Hopefully I remember to post!

True Story

Last week, I drank from a mason jar of Georgia Moon Corn Whiskey...

Tasted pretty good mixed with stawberry kiwi limeade...there were lost of flavors!

/still tasted like turpentine.

Goodnight, blogosphere! Feelin' good after a night of "priming the engine" (recovered from my table spillage to put back a couple more brown ales...probably still legally drunk, but whatever! the engine is primed.)

Why exactly am I giving this up again? Oh, right- I'm chubby and my liver hurts..

And

....I just spilled a beer all over the table. maybe some time off will do me some good!

"he's a big dumb animal, isn't he folks???"

"Low Tolerance Night"

So apparently "priming the engine" has escalated into another drinking phenomenon...the "low tolerance night".

The "low tolerance night" is something I've never been able to figure out. You're talking to a gentleman who has put down enough liquor in one night to incapacitate a horse, yet for some reason, every once in a while I'll drink 3 beers and immediately become a giggling schoolgirl. I have yet to discover a pattern or a cause for this fleeting and seemingly indiscriminate lack of drinking tolerance, and I've had many years of field experience.

For instance- this evening, 3 of my new friends and the Belgian exchange student have gone missing. In my gullet. Normally, this would give me a small buzz, but right now I feel pretty funny. Michelle told me I'm talking too much and too loudly. I just tried to address an envelope and wrote my dentist's name in the top right hand corner, and I can't seem to stop uriniating!

Weird.

Guess I'll get another envelope...and another beer.

Whew

Much better.

Now I can watch basketball in style...with 6 new friends and a Belgian exchange student! Wouldn't want Chimay to be lonely, now would we? This delightful beverage has never seen the outside of a Belgian monestary...it shouldn't be unescorted in a strange place.

So I'm going to indulge in a little "warm up" drinking tonight to prepare for the marathon of decadence that awaits me tomorrow. We "Weekend Warriors" sometimes refer to this as "priming the engine"- having 3-5 drinks the night before an anticipated drinking event to subtly reintroduce the body to the various effects of the drank. *

*7 out of 10 instances of "priming the engine" result in excessive guzzling, drunk dialing, and/or hysterical pregnancy

Anyhow, I've got some basketball to watch and my Chimay is getting warm...

I'll check back later and let you know how my evening is progressing.

Thursday

Well, this seems like a typical Thursday afternoon. Worked till 5, went for a run, and I'm about to settle in for a relaxing evening at home watching The Office and 30 Rock.

Wait- what's that you say? The NCAA Tournament is on?? AND I DON'T HAVE TO WORK TOMORROW???

HOLY SHIT! BEER BEER BEER

Be back in 5

Now you're probably either thinking that my afforementioned excessive weekend drinking is either very alarming, or questioning why I'd ever give it up because alcohol is the sweet, sweet nectar of the gods.

Actually, who am I kidding; nobody's reading this except for my girlfriend, and she's just glad to have control of the remote for once. Is that Jon and Kate Plus 8 in the background? I have no idea; I'm too engrossed in writing this kick-ass blog.

Anyhow, where was I? Ah yes...back to my original point. If you think I've got issues because I plan to consume a 40 ounce of Olde English (an underrated and underappreciated malt liquor), 10 beers, and a few shots of whiskey during the NCAA basketball tournament on Friday, OR

that I've got issues because I'm giving up that glamourous lifestyle in a few weeks to live the life of a teatotaling sissy....

You're both wrong.

Now, I admit, I could probably do without drinking quite so much on Friday. And yes, I could probably not go to the other extreme and completely give up drinking for 30 days. However, I was born without what the New England Journal of Medicine calls the "off switch"- a little known gland located in the left love-handle that regulates alcohol consumption, so I figured an aggressive approach was the way to go.

The funny thing is, I have no desire to drink right now. Zero. Hell, yesterday was St. Patrick's Day for cryin' out loud, and I went running, watched The Biggest Loser (and vowed to never let myself get to the point where I have multiple sets of manboobs), and was in bed by 10:30.

I'm what you call a "Weekend Warrior", and have been for a ridiculously long time. Come Friday at 5:00 pm, the mild-mannered gentleman you have become intimately familiar with from the previous paragraph turns into all-consuming tornado of alcoholic engery, sustained by Chimay, Jameson, and the laughter of strangers.

Is that bad? Well, yes and no. While my weekend wars have provided me with enough stories to blog about for weeks on end (which I undoubtedly will), they have also caused the occasional lapse in judgment, put a bit of a dent in my cash flow (you're crazy if you think I'll ever attempt to calculate how much I've spent on bar tabs in my life. my head may literally explode), and kept me rather husky despite a regular workout regimen.

I guess you could say I'm conducting my self-imposed 30 day alcohol deprivation experiement just to see what happens. Will I cave after a week when I'm invited to a particularly awesome happy hour? Will I lose 20 pounds and get discovered by a male modeling agency, starting off in commercials for "Snuggies" and working my way to the catwalk in Milan?

I guess we'll find out!

After all, the ABC store will still be there in May...liquor is recession proof.

Nnnyello!

"To alcohol; the cause of, and solution to, all of life's problems"
-Homer Simpson

No poem, no work of art- no Irish drinking song for that matter, has ever nailed it quite like Homer.

I've experienced the roller coaster ride of weekend boozing for over a decade now, and I think it would be an understatement to say that it's been quite a ride.
It's bought me a night in the drunk tank in college, introduced me to friends I will have for my entire life, given me countless bumps and bruises in occasionally hilarious fashion, and put me face to face with the woman I love (over a sugary cocktail with a glowing ice cube).
It's given me an enhanced sense of humor and made me feel invincible, made me slightly better at pool and bowling, given me some of the worst headaches I've ever had, and a spare tire that reminds me of my weekend revelry with every jiggle.

I've been through a lot with good old boozerini- some of which I wish I remember, some I'm probably better off not knowing- but I think it's about time I gave my liver a break. I'm 32 years old, and I recently came to the realization that since my freshman year in college, I've abstained from weekend drinking approximately 10 times. Wow. Fuck a break, my liver deserves a medal! That tough little summamabitch has been workin' O-VER-TIME.

SO, I'm taking a month off. Starting on April 1st, I will venture into uncharted territory. No beer, no wine, no JOOSE (don't ask) shall touch these lips. And for you, good reader, I will keep a running journal of my experience.

I'm gonna start by filling you in on my last 2 weeks of drinking, which will include the opening weekend of the NCAA Basketball Tournament, which has been one of my biggest excuses to swill everything in sight and become a stark raving madman. If you're lucky, you may even get a drunk post...if you're really lucky you'll be able to make sense out of it!

Come April Fools Day, though, we'll find out what I'm made of, and I'll be happy to have you along for the ride. I'll track my weight loss, rate my mood on a scale of 1 to 5 Barney Gumbels, and post some pics that reflect my mental state- my "state of Panek", if you will.

More to come!

Cheers