Friday, March 5, 2010

Like a stein with a hole in it, I can't hold my liquor anymore...

OK, so I have to preface this whole conversation with a bit of backstory. Every year I quit drinking. Alcohol that is, as if I quit drinking all together, I'd dehydrate and die. Anyhow, I quit for about 40 days, resetting my tolerance for alcohol. I used to quit for Lent every year, not because I am a good Catholic (actually, I am a tree-hugging-atheist-liberal according to the Princess) but because it is a good time frame to do it. BUT, smack dab in the middle of Lent is the grandest of drinking holidays, St. Patrick's Day, and not drinking on this day is, well, sacrilegious. My great-grandmother Murphy would not approve of not drinking one in her honor on this day. I must mention that usually on Easter Sunday, I am READY for a beer. I crave one. I want one and when I have one, it is a delicious, epiphany like experience. The wait makes the beer taste all that much sweeter.

This year I had the great idea, "I'll quit drinking from January 1st until the Superbowl. That is 37 days this year, close enough. I can reset my tolerance-meter, still drink on Superbowl and drink on St. Patrick's Day. Perfect." Only I added one thing this year that I never had in the past. I added a fairly serious workout regimen which will play in later. When Superbowl rolled around, I had a party at the house and was looking forward to having a beer. And when I did, to quote Homer Simpson, "It was gooood...but not great." But, I thought maybe it was because I just was running around, prepping food and making sure the party guests were having a good time.

So, now that I am back on the juice, I made one more "rule" for myself. No beer Sunday through Thursday. Only on Friday and/or Saturday nights. This kinda sounds like I was a lush before, which I wasn't, but I didn't mind having a beer or two at night with my dinner.

Now, on to the real part of the story. We had our monthly Queen City Rambler meeting last night at a bar/restaurant in Sturgis called the Knuckle to hammer out some details of the impending Spring bike trip. This year we're planning on buying two 15 gallon kegs for the trip. Last year, we ripped through a 15 gallon keg in a little over 2 days. But, therein lies the rub for me. I don't know if I'll be getting my money's worth this year.

Last night I had two beers with my dinner. Now, I'll admit the first one was in a vessel the size of a damn coffee can, but there were only two lines for beer on my receipt, so I only had two beers. And this morning, I feel kinda pasty. What the hell?

In the past, those two beers wouldn't have phased me, even after my Lenten abstenence. Now, this morning, I have a ever-so slight headache and I shit a cubic yard of something out, though that could have more to do with the jalepeno/swiss burger I had at the Knuckle, whose latest Health Department certification could be highly suspect. I attribute this to the "training" I have been participating in since the first of the year.

I am highly disturbed by this development but I know, with some extra training, I can work through it.

No comments:

Post a Comment