One of the most hacky ways to begin a blog post, in my opinion, is to comment on how long it’s been since the last post, and to apologize for the lack of activity on the blog. That is, unless the blog in question is a sobriety blog and the writer has been a lengthy seven months away from the keyboard—then, it’s relevant. You’ve probably worked out that I haven’t been spending that time with no WIFI as I lived among a remote Amazonian tribe, and I’ll take the great leap and assume you’ve probably worked out I spent that time getting shitfaced. With that out of the way, I’ll throw in my apology, just to complete my hacky opening paragraph.
I’d been sober for 83 days before I fell off the wagon, the longest stint of sobriety I’ve had since recognizing I’m an alcoholic. I remember the day I fell off. I was cooking dinner, it was a grey and miserable day, and it was nearing the time the stores stop selling alcohol. I had been getting into a nice stride saying no to cravings, and cravings were few and far between, but this one was big. It was the Tasty Tony 9 Nine Inch Dildo with Suction Cup of cravings.
Let’s back up a bit. I’m getting ahead of myself. In the run up to that Saturday evening, I’d been experiencing a few professional issues, which is my nice way of saying my boss had me in the sights of his sniper rifle, and was picking my colleagues’ brains for reasons to shoot the shit out of me. My colleagues, who had given me many opportunities to snitch on them but I never had, obliged him with a salute and a giant smooch on his ass.
It was a bad situation, and instead of just eating dinner and chilling out with way too much caffeine and a movie—my regular Saturday routine during sobriety—I decided to have just one evening getting shitfaced, before I got back on the wagon. I needed to relieve some stress, and a triple espresso and Judd Apatow comedy weren’t going to cut the mustard. I gave in to Mr. Tasty Tony, with the honest but naive intention of starting afresh the next day. Obviously, it didn’t quite work out that way. During Christmastime, which came up a little while after falling off the wagon, I discovered how much I liked gin. And in the New Year, I discovered how much I liked to pretend it was Christmas Day every day, and that gin is totally a Monday-evening drink.
Fast forward to now, I have a new job, a boss that sees my good sides and accepts the bad, and colleagues that would rather high-five me instead of pulling out a rusty blade and stabbing me in kidneys as they hug me and tell me that it’s necessary but they’re sorry. I’m also sober again, and coming up to two weeks I’ve been off the sauce.
During a FaceTime call, I told my dad about my having got back on the wagon, and he asked what was different this time. I have no idea what I mumbled to him, but I’ve been thinking about that question since he asked it. What is different this time? I don’t know. All I know is that writing this blog was a big part of my success last time.
I don’t know whether it was my routine of writing how many days sober I was at the end of each post, or finding public domain photos and coming up with humorous captions that relate to the paragraph preceding it, all I know is that writing this shit works like a motherfucker, and that I mean it when I write I’m sober for good this time. I’m super pissed at alcohol, and we’re getting divorced. That bitch can even have the house and car and the Tony Tasty Nine Inch Dildo I bought for her. I plan on writing this blog as long as my fingers are able to press the keys on my keyboard.
This is probably the shittiest blog post I’ve written for Hilariously Sober, but I can be forgiven, I hope, as I have seven months’ blogging rust to shake off. But it’s also the best one I’ve written, for a few reasons. I’m back, and back for good, and even if I don’t find the readership I hope for this blog, I recognize its worth, even if it did take half a distillery’s Christmas stock of gin to find out. I’ve learned for the hundredth-plus time that I can’t party for an evening without a long, arduous struggle to get my shit together afterwards.
But what’s different this time, as opposed to the previous hundred-plus times? I think I know now, and it just took writing this blog post to find out.
It’s this part, where I write I’m twelve days sober, which will go up to nineteen next week, and the feeling of pride and achievement I experience upon writing it. In fact, I’ll FaceTime my dad now to tell him, just after I’ve found out what time it is where he’s vacationing.
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Bonus content: You might have wondered what caption I would have written for the featured image at the top of the post had I been able to add one. Here it is:
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