I'm Getting Too Old for This Shit!

Everyday they try to sell me this product. It's a great product, but it has one nasty catch:

“You will get a few hours of extreme bliss from this, but it will cost you the next 2-3 days of your life, productivity, and mental state.”

I should be horrified and run away. But alcohol is a special little darling, isn't he?

Oh man. I guess it was a few years ago I first uttered the words “I can't drink like this anymore. I guess I'm getting old! Hahahahaha!”

Yeah, it was cute the first time I said I'm getting old. It was kind of like a right of passage. I was finally old and wise; seasoned, if you will.

But now it just isn't funny anymore. I'd go so far as to say there's a mathematical equation for how much alcohol one can ingest. For every five years of additional age, add an order of magnitude to your suffering and lost time.

I only drink on Fridays now. And only socially, as I'm visiting with my best friend for the first time in three years. The problem is, Friday's drinking becomes Saturday's nightmare. So after kinda sleeping, getting some exercise, lots of water, etc...I only find myself craving the “hair of the dog.” (It really does help if you can limit yourself to that one promised shot of whiskey.)

But, yeah, right. Hair of the dog inevitably turns into another night of us giggling on the floor, reminiscing about high school and who got herpes.

Then the problem is shifted to Sunday. Once recovery begins in earnest Sunday evening, I need until freakin' Wednesday morning to feel normal again!

I don't have the luxury of damaging my old body like I did my young one. I punch it in the face, it punches me right back.

Life's gonna suck without my beloved red wine at week's end. But, for real this time, I'm getting too old for this shit!