Quitting beer, top 5 lies, drunk
Posted on November 5, 2007
Filed Under Anatomy of a Drunk Man, Failures
I’ve done something incredibly horrible over the past few weeks. I tried to stop drinking. Worse, I kept it a secret from you guys. I am not going to regale you with a dramatic story of triumph because the way I used italics several sentences back, It’s obvious that I’ve achieved nothing but utter failure in that endeavor.
Let me say one thing though: Trying to quit drinking somewhat feels like going to a maximum security prison. The weeks I spent trying to abstain from drinking felt like years, so in a way, I kinda felt like I was “away” for several years. Kind of like that time when I was “away” for two years when I “borrowed” money from someone’s wallet over at the church at Novaliches Bayan; and that someone just happened to be an off-duty police officer.
I didn’t try to quit drinking for anyone else but myself. I just felt like I just needed to get my shit together and quitting something that permeates my thoughts an average of 18 hours a day seemed like the first logical step. Anyway, during that period, I still saw my friends but for the most part, the contact we had with each other was minimal as I’ve been hanging out with my girlfriend 80% of the time.
Last Saturday, my girlfriend and I decided to spend some intimate time over at Tagaytay and man, like a convict whose parole just got approved by the parole board, I was fucking out and I was loving it.
Drinking in Tagaytay is a territory which I rarely, and if ever, very cautiously venture into. What the girlfriend and I usually do is just pig out on diner food, chew the fat for a few minutes and head over to where ever it is we’re staying for some awesometastic downtime.
Saturday was different in a sense that we both wanted to drink. I cannot stress enough how rarely this happens and I was like all screw abstinence, I’m drinking.
And Jesus FUCKING Christ, Tagaytay was a pretty awesome drinking place. Maybe it’s because of the fact that Christmas time is approaching, and I’m feeling more depressed or maybe the chilly Tagaytay climate was simply perfect for the Rum based cocktails I was downing one after the other that night; but man, I still can’t get over it. It was just awesome.
If you’ve been reading this blog long enough, you’d know that I am the biggest beer person this side of Asia but occasionally, I try to up the ante by drinking something not within my comfort zone (like weird ass cocktails and shit). I try not to overdo this though since in my experience, some forms of hard liquor can reduce me to a slurring shell who will pay upwards to 5,000 pesos for sexual intercourse and a shoulder to cry on.
I DID have an epiphany of sorts last Saturday. And it made me realize that I should totally just ditch beer and go straight for the hard stuff. Allow me to explain:
Red Horse Beer: 45 pesos (It takes 8 bottles of Red Horse to make me tipsy)
San Miguel Light: 40 Pesos (It takes 12 of these to make me tipsy)
Some weird Rum-based concoction: Somewhere in the neighborhood of 120 pesos (it takes a pathetic 3 of these to send me into a coma)
I’ve always considered myself a very reasonable, thinking man and after I did the computation in my head, I made a resolution to just drink hard shit at every bar I go to for the rest of my life. Not that I hate beer mind you, it’s purely about making sound financial decisions.
One problem is that no matter what I drink, I drink at the same pace. This means that it doesn’t matter whether I’m popping beer bottles or throwing back vintage wine, I’ll end up drinking in the same speed. This is further compounded by the fact that “One more” is probably my most overused lie. If I were to make a top 5 list of the lies I tell, it would probably go like this:
- “I’ll just have one more and we can go.”
- “I promise, this is my last bottle. Then we can go.”
- “(When out on dates) My hobbies are improving myself, not having sex and waiting for women to finish shopping for shoes.”
- “I’m sure I didn’t come inside you.”
- “Why the hell would I go around the neighborhood driving your car, looking for drugs and picking up prostitutes dad? I know the police says they’re sure it’s me, but come on, I have a very common face and it could be anyone right?”
Anyway, by my slightly educated estimate, I probably down 5 drinks an hour and I didn’t realize that having three glasses of rum will have a devastatingly different effect on my compared to say drinking 4 bottles of Red Horse.
So yeah, I wasn’t surprised when the entire night was a blur to me and all I can remember was me and my girlfriend retreating to our place and me chowing on left over Pringles before proceeding to a really sexually awkward sleep.
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Mike "Fucking" Villar
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"The personal blog of Marketing Strategist, Rising Internet Star, Man Blog editor, child pornographer, alcoholic, and cokehead-- Douchebag Jones--Err, Mike Villar! -
Hey,
Are you ‘pino? I’m AA (politically correct black chick) living in Georgia, but my mom is from Negros Occidental - she spoke Bisian (I can’t spell in English, much less Pacific Islander languages)but dude, I can make chicken adobo, pancit, and those egg rool thingies… lumpia. I have an “I Am Brown” tee shirt from a “pino festival in Flushing Meadows Park in Queens, NY years ago.
So look, I know you hate me and shit, but since I’m probably a cousin or something I still want an invitation to the wedding. (heh-heh-heh)
I won’t buy you a drink.
Where do you drink? redhorse is only 35 pesos!
No wonder you were avoiding TMB get-togethers. Ass.
jali, yes I’m ‘pino. Or ‘dogeater’ to you imperialist American dogs.
Jemerine, Which squatter area are you from again?
Ade, I’m not avoiding you gais! I’ve just been…really busy s’all.
That’s just appalling. You do not quit beer. Beer quits you! Ihi lang ang pahinga pota!
^ i agree! besides I cant imagine a mike villar who doesnt talk about beer! glad to hear your drinking again
You guys are just sooooo supportive.