Thursday, July 1

The gyno says...

I am a binge drinker. This is not a surprise. The medical definition of a binge drinker was though, only four drinks in one sitting for women. Yikes. At this point I can only (“only”) handle about 6 beers a night, less if it’s a high alcohol percentage ala Dogfish Head’s 18% (!!) 120 minute IPA. And by handle I mean not black out. Double yikes. At least I have a glass of water with every beer. If I don’t, I’m in trouble!

So, what to do with this information. Drinking seems to be the reason I don’t do a lot of things I want to lately. Actually strike that, getting drunk does. I haven’t run, read, write, looked for a new gig, bought new work clothes that I desperately need, or finally fix up my apartment all because my raging hangovers and high bar tabs are in the way. I even said the other day that all I want to spend money on right now is baseball and beer. A couple of things about this statement: one, this is stupid and two, where is my penis?

I have decided that for the month of July I will not get drunk except for (always an exception, the first sign of alcoholism. Shut it.) tonight for an Astoria pub crawl and the weekend of the 16th-18th when I’m in Pittsburgh for a Pirates game (penis!). I will still go out, but I will not have more than three. Not not not. This is perfectly reasonable. In fact, last night I went to Crazy Ass and had ginger ale. So there.

In case you’re wondering how this topic came up at the lady doctor, my cooch does not smell like hooch. She’s very holistic in her approach, asking questions about everything from stress, diet, safety (ex: do I wear a seatbelt), to the obvious sexy time deets. I highly recommend her! Just don’t be surprised when she says you drink too much because you probably do if we’re friends.

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