Burp. Ulp.
I've come to the conclusion that I have the willpower of a cherrystone clam.
At the beginning of the year, I set a goal (which I blogged about here ) about really cutting back on my booze intake. I was going to try to only drink IN MODERATION at Soxfest and on Super Bowl Sunday.
Well, Rob and Holly came over last Saturday and Rob and I killed a 12 of Amstel Light, and then hit the Maker's Mark. But I was good after that! Well, until last Thursday when I went to play poker at the Killer Bee's house, saw he had some Genny Cream Ale in his fridge and tossed back 4 of those. Probbaly shouldn't have, as I got my ass kicked.
Then Soxfest rolls around. Friday night, I decided that I'd grab a beer while BSing with a few of my fellow fans over a Polish and mustard. Then I grabbed another one and took it to the seminar I went to. Wow, after 2 beers Jon Garland sounds a lot more intelligent! After the seminar, a bunch of us headed down to the restaurant in the lower level. Boy, a martini sure sounds good! Gulp. Not wanting to get too out of control, I decided one martini was enough and switched to Ketel One and tonic. Three of those later, I stumbled upstairs to the Atrium bar, had a couple Miller Lites...before I know it, it's 1:30 am and I'm hammered. Yee haw!
I woke up Saturday feeling like death warmed over. I told myself I'd go easy on myself Saturday afternoon. And I did--until about 3:00 pm when Aaron starts tugging on my sleeve and making gulping noises as we walked past the beer guy. I figured one wouldn't hurt--hair of the dog, right? One didn't hurt.
Dinner rolled around. I ordered a nice big fat greasy bacon cheeseburger, which wasn't bad, especially considering I ate at Houlihan's. What goes good with burgers? Beer. So I had a Blue Moon (NOT a good choice when you're hung over) and then we headed upstairs to the bar.
The Atrium Bar of the Hyatt Regency Chicago is like most hotel bars...crowded and overpriced. Didn't help that there were a couple hundred Sox fans (myself included) hoping to catch a glimpse of their heroes knocking back shots. The best bargain at the so-called "Big Bar" is the 32 oz stein of swill for $10. They were out of Miller Lite (Sox fans love cheap beer), so I drank PIlsner Urquell instead. Four of them. Let's see: 4 beers at 32 ounces each equals 128 ounces total, which divided by 16 ounces in a pound equals 8. I DRANK THE WEIGHT OF A WOMAN'S BOWLING BALL IN BEER. HOLY SHIT.
So this morning, I weighed in at the gym bright and early. I gained 5.5 pounds from Friday. Wow.
Let's see, the Super Bowl is less than 2 weeks away. How am I gonna screw up my diet this time?
I've come to the conclusion that I have the willpower of a cherrystone clam.
At the beginning of the year, I set a goal (which I blogged about here ) about really cutting back on my booze intake. I was going to try to only drink IN MODERATION at Soxfest and on Super Bowl Sunday.
Well, Rob and Holly came over last Saturday and Rob and I killed a 12 of Amstel Light, and then hit the Maker's Mark. But I was good after that! Well, until last Thursday when I went to play poker at the Killer Bee's house, saw he had some Genny Cream Ale in his fridge and tossed back 4 of those. Probbaly shouldn't have, as I got my ass kicked.
Then Soxfest rolls around. Friday night, I decided that I'd grab a beer while BSing with a few of my fellow fans over a Polish and mustard. Then I grabbed another one and took it to the seminar I went to. Wow, after 2 beers Jon Garland sounds a lot more intelligent! After the seminar, a bunch of us headed down to the restaurant in the lower level. Boy, a martini sure sounds good! Gulp. Not wanting to get too out of control, I decided one martini was enough and switched to Ketel One and tonic. Three of those later, I stumbled upstairs to the Atrium bar, had a couple Miller Lites...before I know it, it's 1:30 am and I'm hammered. Yee haw!
I woke up Saturday feeling like death warmed over. I told myself I'd go easy on myself Saturday afternoon. And I did--until about 3:00 pm when Aaron starts tugging on my sleeve and making gulping noises as we walked past the beer guy. I figured one wouldn't hurt--hair of the dog, right? One didn't hurt.
Dinner rolled around. I ordered a nice big fat greasy bacon cheeseburger, which wasn't bad, especially considering I ate at Houlihan's. What goes good with burgers? Beer. So I had a Blue Moon (NOT a good choice when you're hung over) and then we headed upstairs to the bar.
The Atrium Bar of the Hyatt Regency Chicago is like most hotel bars...crowded and overpriced. Didn't help that there were a couple hundred Sox fans (myself included) hoping to catch a glimpse of their heroes knocking back shots. The best bargain at the so-called "Big Bar" is the 32 oz stein of swill for $10. They were out of Miller Lite (Sox fans love cheap beer), so I drank PIlsner Urquell instead. Four of them. Let's see: 4 beers at 32 ounces each equals 128 ounces total, which divided by 16 ounces in a pound equals 8. I DRANK THE WEIGHT OF A WOMAN'S BOWLING BALL IN BEER. HOLY SHIT.
So this morning, I weighed in at the gym bright and early. I gained 5.5 pounds from Friday. Wow.
Let's see, the Super Bowl is less than 2 weeks away. How am I gonna screw up my diet this time?
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