6 Questions when reminiscing on 2014

5 Jan

drink

On the first day of 2015, I lay in my bed hungover, paying for my sins. It was so agonizing that I waited for the angel of death to arrive and even thought at one point that I saw that angel lifting me out of my pain and suffering (hallucinations associated with my hangover sweats, perhaps). Regardless, while in bed until 6pm, falling in and out of an uncomfortable sleep, I had time to think about the choices I made and the actions I took in 2014. I asked myself the first question below, which triggered many other questions about the past year:

1. How many times did I say I’m never drinking again?

The first words out of my lips on 2015 were “I’m never drinking again,” which got me to thinking: How many times did I say these exact words in 2014? If the hangover was bad those words were recited at least 5 times that day. They were grumbled as I got out of bed to go to class after a foolish night out, yelled when regretting decisions made the night before, and muttered when realizing I wasn’t going to get anything productive done the day after a night out. I’m sure that many people can claim they declared this finalizing statement one too many times last year. The sad part? We always drink again – sometimes even just a few hours after declaring sobriety. When I arose from the dead at 6:00 PM on New Year’s Day I slurred the statement as I looked for something to eat. It was quickly followed by my brother scoffing, “you say that all the time.” My best estimate at how many times I was “never drinking again”: 65 times

2. How many hours of Netflix did I watch?

Considering the seasons I watched from start to finish, I think I probably spent at least a full week of my life dedicated to only Netflix….or is it more than that? Parks and Rec, Gossip Girl, New Girl and Pretty Little Liars from start to finish were some proud accomplishments. While I was too hungover to handle Netflix on New Year’s Day, I recounted the days I spent in school and over the summer, hungover or not, lying in bed curled up with my one-and-only watching hours and hours on end, only moving for food, drink and bathroom breaks. I recalled the pain of finishing one series and having to scan through the offerings, trying to decide which jewel you would pick next. Is this one too funny? This one is definitely too morbid. Will this one live up to the last series I watched? In my hour count I also have to consider the times I started watching a show that I couldn’t get into; the wasted hours spent on a few disengaging episodes (cough, Breaking Bad, cough). Realizing you’ve wasted precious hours on a show that just isn’t for you is truly heartbreaking. My best estimate on how many hours spent: 400 hours.


Netflix
3. How many vodka sodas did I have?

When combined, the words “vodka” and “soda” were pretty much my mantra of the second half of 2014. Originally drank for their purpose as a skinny drink, they have become much, much more. I have grown to love vodka sodas and a night out usually includes at least four of those babies. After all, what’s not to love? Some bottom shelf vodka (i.e. Majorska, Popov, Kinsey, whatever the case depending on your location), some hydrating soda water and a dingy, dried out bar lime. For a second I wondered how many handles of alcohol I drank in 2014, but I’d rather live in ignorance on that front. My best estimate on the amount drank: 200 vodka sodas.

4. How many pizzas did I eat?

No, not how many slices did I eat – how many bonafide, large pizzas did I eat. The weekend before 2014 ended, for instance, I consumed seven slices of pizza – one slice short of a full, large pie in just three days. What follows is the breakdown of those three days:

  • Friday night: two drunk slices – a slice topped with chicken and broccoli and a white slice with broccoli
  • Saturday night: a sober slice for dinner followed by two drunk slices (from the same establishment as my sober dinner slice, nonetheless)
  • Sunday night: two hangover slices of sausage pizza

Pizza is a beautiful thing and sometimes you just need to eat a lot of it. To deny yourself the masterpiece of bubbling cheese that has been sprinkled ever-so-gently and generously over a pool of luscious sauce and hand-tossed dough, especially drunk and/or hungover, would be a grievous sin. My best guess on the amount of pizza consumed: 25 pies

pizza5. How many times did I bitch about being fat?

A good follow up to my pizza consumption question. Wake up. Fat. Eat a meal. Fat. Getting ready to go out. Fat. Go to bed. FAT. Ask anyone and they’ll tell you – if a day has gone by and they haven’t heard me say the word fat it’s probably because they haven’t spoken to me yet. It’s a true character flaw and while I’m not proud of it, I always feel better about eating my body weight in pizza and chocolate chip cookies or missing the gym if I can bitch about it. Sorry. My best estimate on how many times I bitched about being fat: 450 times

6. How many times I “literally couldn’t even”?

On New Year’s Day I literally couldn’t even. On January 2nd, I literally couldn’t even go to work. Yes, this is a pattern. Nearly every day something happens that causes me to “literally can’t even.” Whether it’s the hangover, the events that happened the night before, trying to face the gym when you don’t have it in you, recalling how much you ate that day or the day before, trying to deal with the peasants surrounding you on your commute into the city, or simply getting out of bed. There are so many good reasons each day that cause me and the good people I associate myself with to “literally can’t even.” And sometimes, when you know you actually can even, it’s just more fun to pretend you literally can’t. My best estimate on how many times I literally couldn’t even: 365 times

Literally can't

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