AdeinEngland's Journal

I've been getting wasted nearon every weekend since i was 17.

I'm now 28 and recently hit it way too hard at a Festival and decided enough was enough, that i wasn't going to ignore the concious discussions i'd had with myself about depression, money wasting, acting outlandishly and embarassing myself, being terminally single etc - it was time to jack in the intoxicating substances. Apart from caffeine of course. Which some say is "cheating"? Personally i call it "common f***ing sense". I'm not drinking or taking any other substances, i'm not doing any of the above so forgive me if i walk head-held-high into starbucks, teeth-grinning like i've just met Jesus and order a large latte. Besides - i never heard of anyone getting wasted, exposing themselves in front of people they've just met, vomiting and/or spending their rent money on a mochaccino. All of which i can lay claim to under alcohol's evil influence.

Moving on - So to begin with I found it pretty easy giving up the booze. It doesn't take a scientist to figure out that if you have a 5 day bender at a UK festival, you're probably NOT going to fancy a pint on the 6th. I mean - Everybody loves ice cream right, but a long weekend in Antarctica won't do much to feed a Ben & Jerrys addiction. 

My friends all drank as much as i did while we were there and took between 36-48 hours to recover back in london, before they went out and started meeting eachother for after-work drinks or had a glass of wine at home etc. One informed me last week she'd been out getting hammered every night since the festival!!!

"So ade, you havent had a drink since we got back from Glastonbury? Are you kidding?"
"You've been out everynight since? Are you NUTS!?!?"

Thats honestly like 14 days worth of consistent alcohol abuse. I've seen animals on safari that couldn't take the amount of alcohol that this chick does.

But when i returned, the first week back, i didnt have to come up with excuses for why i wouldn't meet them as they'd all seen the iLL state i'd been in on the way home. Offering me a drink would've been like offering Heath Ledger an Ibuprofen.

"Thanks, i'm good."

Then the first weekend came. Everyone was going to Blur in Hyde Park, getting wasted (again) and i was en-route home, ready to destroy a box of chocolates and fall asleep in front of the TV. Saturday came just as quickly and instead of sitting on our balcony, drinking Pimms and Beer with ev1 i arranged to go round a friends and watch Chick Flicks all night (apparently i left my testosterone in the bottle too). And as I came home, expecting to see them liquored up doing their much fabled 'beer dance" - they were all passed out, drunk, at 00:30. 

Part of me looked on in pity. Part of me was annoyed i'd missed the beer dance. Even in sobriety that things funny as hell.

I've now been through the second working week with no alcohol and returned home again on a friday night to fall asleep in front of the TV (exciting, huh?) and today (saturday) will consist primarily of going to a bar, meeting some guys about joining a band to play in and then back home again (probably by half-9 or 10). Seriously - My phone won't stop ringing with Lindsay Lohan and Paris shouting "MY god, your life is like *SO* exciting, how do you do that?"

Bands meet in bars. It's a natural fact-come-habitat for musicians. I have little choice in venue with regard to where to meet these guys. My concience is asking me why i'm going to a bar? And as much as i try, skizophrenically shouting back "Because if i join the band it will eat up more time and i wont have to hang around in bars!!!". My concience calls it hypocritical, stupid, dangerous, tempting fate...

I call it common f***ing sense.