Drowning my sorrows

I got out of the house this weekend.

Yes, I did!

I went on a run to BevMo to get more booze for the wet bar.

Turns out, during a pandemic, people are drinking more at home.

Go figure!

I resisted the urge to buy stock in virtually everything they offered.

Instead I bought a handle of vodka, gin and rum.

I also picked up some delicious Fever Tree Ginger Beer so I can make Moscow Mules.

Doesn’t a Moscow Mule sound delicious with all the hot weather we’ve been having?

I’m still trying to get the hang of social distancing.

I find myself getting close to people, too close some might say, by accident.

I just keep forgetting that I’m supposed to stay six feet away from another human being.

It’s because I don’t go out shopping that much.

I do a lot of shopping via DoorDash.

Groceries delivered right to your doorstep?


Why leave the house?

Well, I’m here to tell you that leaving the house improves my mental health.

No doubt about it.

Getting out a little improves my outlook on life and reduces the stress and strain I’ve been feeling about the pandemic.

Yes, life will go on.

And if it doesn’t, if we’re all stuck in this new reality, at least I can drown my sorrows in booze.

Stubborn or cheap?

I bought a metric SHIT TON of booze for Burning Man this past year.

Handles upon handles of gin, vodka, rum, and tequila.

I also bought THE CHEAPEST booze you could buy.

Nothing over $10 per 1.75 liter bottle.

And plastic bottles, please.

None of this fancy, schmancy pudding pants glass stuff.

[Actually, this is perfect on playa because plastic = no broken bottle]

The thing is, Tejas and I BARELY made a dent in our booze supply.

Oh, we (and when I say we, what I really mean is he) certainly drank more than our fair share of mead, I mean booze.

But we just didn’t drink OUR SUPPLY of booze.

Truthfully, what we really should have done is started giving it out to participants AS SOON AS WE ARRIVED ON PLAYA.

I would need 20 livers to process that much booze!

All this is to say that I am now paying the price.

I REFUSE to buy more booze while I still have the cheap stuff taking up space in my wet bar.

So I’m forcing myself to drink it.

And honestly?

It’s not that good.

Definitely for MIXED drinks, not martinis.

So my question is, am I just too stubborn or am I just cheap?

Cheap booze, here I come!

Tickets for Burning Man 2018: I, Robot are IN THE BAG.

They almost weren’t, however.

I had an American Express I wanted to use for the purchase but TICKETFLY doesn’t take AmEx.


Nevertheless, everything sorted itself out and come July, I will have my two tickets and my vehicle pass mailed to me.


I can’t believe I’m going ANOTHER YEAR!

This will be my FOURTH burn.

It’s addictive, you know.

All the art, and people, and dancing, and music, and community!

It’s shaping up to be so different than my first lonely burn.

But right now I’m planning my Pagan Bunny Burn.

And it looks like Tejas and I will be sipping some fine vintage Smart & Final Schooner Bay Light Rum and Sterling Dry Gin.

This makes me laugh, because at home, Tejas and I drink Hendrick’s Gin mixed with Fever Tree Tonic Water.

We’re quite the connoisseurs.

But when we camp?

Snobbery goes out the window and we opt for the cheapest booze there is.

No worries about hangovers, however.


I have Hangover Guardian – activated charcoal pills – which I take pre- and post-drinking to help absorb some of that nasty cheap alcohol.

Let’s just hope I have enough after the bunny burn to take care of myself at Burning Man!

Cheap booze, HERE I COME!


* UPDATE:  I couldn’t do it.  I had to buy the nice stuff for me to enjoy at the bunny burn.  Hendricks gin, Zaya rum, and some craft beers (to go with my bratwurst, naturally)!

Giving up booze

I made every attempt to GAIN WEIGHT my last week before my diet started.

I ate grilled cheese and fondue and pasta.

And I enjoyed it all.

Did I succeed?


I lost three pounds on account of I’ve been sick like a dog with a stupid respiratory virus.

When I open my mouth to speak, I bark.

The sad reality of being sick is that NOTHING TASTES GOOD.

I tried to make myself a gin and tonic and all I tasted was a faint sour flavor when I sampled it.

Being sick prevents me from DRINKING like I usually do.

Ironically, I think that the biggest challenge to my diet will not be the lack of food or calories.


It’s going to be not drinking.

I already know this.

It’s not easy for me to cut back on drinking UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES, let alone eliminating it from my diet completely.

Perhaps this is a sign of a problem.

I can’t help it.

One beer becomes a glass of wine which turns into a cocktail and before I know it, I’ve had two or three drinks in a night.

My cousin Jennifer once told me that doctors classify “binge drinking” as more than two glasses of alcohol a night, to which we both replied “then every one I know is a binge drinker!”

Tejas thinks I’m crazy but I’ve bought about 50 bottles of sparkling water to replace the alcohol (and soda) I used to drink.

I just don’t like water, is all.

Of course, it does occur to me that the WHOLE REASON I have to lose weight is too many cocktails.

So this will be good for me, right?


It may be hard to believe but I have given up alcohol for 30 days (just one of the vices pictured to the left).

I didn’t get hung over and quit.

I didn’t embarrass myself and quit.

No, I simply decided I would quit and so I quit.

The first person I told was my friend Tejas.

You see, I think my liver needs a little break. Drinking has become too much of a habit with me. I come home from work, I go to the wet bar, I fix myself a drink. Before I know it one drink has turned into two or three.

It’s been two days since I gave up alcohol.

Day 1? Easy. I got this.

Day 2? Not so easy. I had to text Tejas and tell him I was jonesing for a drink.

He told me “You can make it! You are a strong person!” which is EXACTLY what I needed to hear.

When I told my parents about my intentions, my dad said, “Good luck. I hope you make it” in a voice which told me he decidedly DID NOT think I’d make it.

Bad daddy.

In any case, I’m still hanging in there. Giving the liver a break and washing her clean of nasty booze toxins. I only have to wait until May 6 for my next drink.

Oh damn! Cinco de Mayo! Dry!