Day Six

So I have reach the sixth day of total sobriety and as yet have not keeled over.

All in all, it’s going well. Extremely well. Too well.

I have not even noticed a change – in mind, in body, or in liver jolts.

I have my theories. These involve me not having had the time to think past American Foreign Policy and Intelligence Communities in Strategic Studies till 3am’s.

Or that my blood is still working years of excess alcohol out of my system so actually I am still pissed as a bored night watchman in a secure SAB warehouse.

The bonuses noted so far –
*Bring on the Road Blocks!! Ha ha!! It was one fun drive up Jan Smuts on Saturday night. Never have I been more pleased to see blue lights and combo boots. Then the fools didn’t stop me, but waved me through. Honestly. When did cops stop picking on the innocent little chick!?!
*R4 for a passion fruit & water. Not only am I totalling my tee, but I am becoming a rich teetotaller. And we just know how much we love to hate those!
*A chick on Friday night told me that she did this same “sober” game for three months and she lost 6 kilos! Man oh man. Now not only am I gonna be a rich teetotaller, I’m gonna be a HOT rich teetotaller. And we REALLY hate those.

Behaviour I have noted is apparently an integral part of me no matter –
*Doing crazy dancing in any available public area;
*Doing this dancing barefoot as my shoes keep getting caught between the slates;
*Stumbling;
*The desire to be the tallest person in the room, by climbing on any open chair, bench, table;
*Watching late night Saturday e-TV porn with FASCINATION in the Colony;
*Bruises;
*Pulling faces for strangers’ cameras;
*Looking drunk in every shot taken of my gorgeous noggin;
*Finding my cleavage and the bounce in my breasts a complete novelty each & every weekend;
*Being one of the last people to leave the stale-beer-reeked establishment – 2.30am bedtime on Saturday night. Good form;
*Enjoying myself. Thoroughly;

Now I am just waiting for that first bitchy stranger to pass a comment about me being “sooooo drunk” the last time he/she saw me. Smack this month of sobriety into your cola-tainted vodka. Bitch.

Still to be achieved
*One month of this;
*One month of this still being NOVEL & stumbling slurring fighting laughing slobbering crowds still being amusing;
*Meeting, loving, flirting, snogging, shagging some gorgeous stranger (Hmmm. Not too certain what this has to do with being sober. But hey, it means I get laid!)

One of my frenchies invited me to a Pretoria wine tasting next weekend. I am left in a complete dilemma. Foreigners – GOOD. Hot foreigners who are oh so lovely – BETTER. The ability to enjoy ones sober self and not eventually reach insanity through temptation with being surrounded by copious amounts of good free wine – D.A.N.G.E.R.O.U.S.

Cheers!