I'm over alcohol.
I went through my 'drinkin to get pissed' phase when I was 15/16/17' As soon as I hit the legal age I wasn't as arsed anymore. The excitement of going out and getting into clubs/bars underage and then buying a ton of alcohol and exceeding your limits just because you can goes when you hit 18. Or it did for me :lol:
Don't get me wrong I still went out when I was 18/19/20 but the meaning of the night out changed for me, I had a few drinks to unwind from a busy week at work, to have a laugh with my mates and dance the worries away. Sometimes I still got wasted, other times just tipsy and sometmes the alcohol didn't hit me at all :lol:
Most of my friends still go out every weekend religiously to get pissed but I don't see the attraction in it anymore.
Alcohol loosens me up and I become more emotional and 9 times out of 10 I enjoy myself more because of it.
My only lapse in sensible drinkin is when England are participating in the World Cup or the Euro's. Last summer I drank my local dry, I was hammered for each of Englands matches in the World Cup. I am ashamed at my intake over those 3 weeks England was in the competition. I must have averages 12 pints per game
I needed it for the Q-Finals agaisnt Portugal, it numbed the pain :lol:
I'm such a wimp though, I always dread the hangovers, I'm the worst moaner in the world when I'm hungover, its like my world it going to end, and most of the time it will put me off drinking for ages.
I got this email in work the other week about the '6 levels of Hangovers' and it really made me laugh. Also I'm ashamed to admit that I have reached each level.
I'll copy and paste it over for you to have a look :lol:
The Six Levels Of Hangovers
One Star Hangover
No pain. No real feeling of illness. Your sleep last night was a mere disco nap, which has given you a whole lot of misplaced energy. Be glad that you are able to function relatively well. However, you are still parched. You can drink 10 sodas and still feel this way. You are craving a steak bomb and a side of gravy fries.
Two Star Hangover
No pain, but something is definitely amiss. You may look okay but you have the mental capacity of a staple gun. The coffee you are chugging is only exacerbating your rumbling gut, which is craving a rootie tootie fresh and fruity pancake breakfast from IHOP. There is some definite havoc being wreaked upon your bowels.
Three Star Hangover
Slight headache. Stomach feels crappy. You are definitely not productive. Anytime a girl walks by you gag because her perfume reminds you of the random gin shots you did with your alcoholic friends after the bouncer 86'd you at 1:45 a.m. Life would be better right now if you were in your bed with a dozen donuts and a meatball hero watching the E! fashion awards. You've had 4 cups of coffee, a gallon of water, 3 Snapples and a liter of diet coke, yet you haven't peed once.
Four Star Hangover
Life sucks. Your head is throbbing. You can't speak too quickly or else you might puke. Your boss has already lambasted you for being late and has given you a lecture for reeking of booze. You wore nice clothes, but that can't hide the fact that you missed an oh-so crucial spot shaving, (girls, it looks like you put your make-up on while riding the bumper cars.) Your eyes look like one big vein and your hair style makes you look like a reject from the class picture of Grover Cleveland HS, class of '84.
Five Star Hangover
AKA "Dante's 4th Circle of Hell."
You have a second heartbeat in your head, which is actually annoying the employee who sits in the next cube. Vodka vapor is seeping out of every pore and making you dizzy. You still have toothpaste crust in the corners of your mouth from brushing your teeth in an attempt to get the remnants of the shit fairy out. Your body has lost the ability to generate saliva, so your tongue is suffocating you. Death seems pretty good right now. You definitely don't remember who you were with, where you were, what you drank and why there is a stranger still sleeping in your bed at your otherwise empty house.
Six Star Hangover
Otherwise known as the "Infinite Nut smacker"
You wake up on your bathroom floor. For about 2 seconds you look at the ceiling, wondering if the cool refreshing feeling on your cheek is the bathroom tile or your vomit from 5 hours ago. It is amazing how your roommate was as drunk as you, but somehow managed to get up before you. You try to lift your head. Not an option. Then you inadvertently turn your head too quickly and smell the funk of 13 packs of cigarettes in your hair. Suddenly you realize you were smoking, but not ultra lights... some jackass handed you Marlboro reds, and you smoked them like it was your second full time job. You look in the mirror only to see remnants of the stamp "Ready to Rock" faintly atop your forehead... the stamp on the back of your hand that has magically appeared on your forehead by alcoholic osmosis. You have to be to work in t-minus 14 minutes and 32 seconds and the only thing you can think of wearing is your "hello kitty" pajamas and your slippers.