Conversation from the past:

“Hey Lisa, here, have a beer!”

“Awesome.  Thanks!”

“Here, have another!”

“Okay, cool.”

“Have another beer!”

“Sure, okay, thanks!”

“Lisa, here’s another beer for you.”

“Sweet.”

“Lisa, you want one more?”

“Yeah, okay, one more.”

“Another?”

“Yeah, okay, one more.”

“Lisa, I think you’ve had enough.”

“Yeah, okay, one more.”

Conversation from the future:

“Hey Lisa, here, have a beer!”

“No thank you.  I’ll just have water.”

“Oh, you’re so boring!  Have a beer.  It’s a Bud Light, your favorite.”

“No, I’m sorry.  I’d rather not.  I don’t drink.”

“Since when?  You’re no fun.  Have the Bud Light.”

“Nah, I’m plenty fun without the Bud Light.  Just water for me.  Thanks.”

Last night after work, I sat down at the bar with Regina to have a beer.  A beer.  One.  Instead, I think we ended up having like seven.  And a shot.  We also had a shot.  I don’t even know what it was a shot of, but I’m pretty sure it was pink since that was what color I was puking at four o’clock this afternoon.

It was an awful, nauseous, hungover day.  I almost had to call out of work because I felt so sick.  I’ve never felt like that before — even after nights of more excessive drinking.  Either that was the shot from hell or I’m getting old, but either way, it was my own fault for drinking so much on a Wednesday night — at my place of employment no less.  It was totally ridiculous.

So, that’s it.  I’m giving it up.  I’m sacrificing alcohol for the sake of my well-being.  My goal is to go an entire month without drinking.  If I can’t have a beer without following it up with six more then I don’t deserve to have one at all.  I will not have any more wasted days of pacing around the house feeling intoxicated at two o’clock in the afternoon.   I’m done.  Beer is overrated.  It’s fattening and it causes me to give out my number to boys and and it makes me crave boneless Buffalo wings — another unnecessary evil — fried and fatty and accompanied by a huge glob of cellulite – I mean, salad dressing.

There you have it.  No more partying like a rock star after work, and no more beer.  None.

(By the way, does anyone want to hit up Bar A this Tuesday for Beat-the-Clock night?)