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Join me, won't you, on the home stretch of the second annual self-imposed sabatical from all things sinful. Any by sinful, I mean enjoyable. There are so many stages of Febrehab that you go through during the 28 days of detoxification. First there's the optimism, then the irritability, the pain, the eye gouging, the night sweats ... and eventually, the hump, followed by the denouement. I am now on the last stage -- and RIGHT on time. Remorse. After all I've gone through, why, oh why, would I subject myself to it again. I could just continue this forever and be nonetheworse because of it.
But, FUCK THAT. I think on Wednesday, after work, I will wait until that guy pulls on the tail of that bird perched on the rock outside and makes it whistle. I'll slide down the tail of the Brontosaurus and into my car. At that point, I will flick a Bic and enjoy a Prince flown fresh from Sweden. (BTW, did you catch my Jetsons reference?)
Wednesday and Thursday will be punctuated with the grand, world-wide tradition Berliners refer to as "Feierabend." Ja, meine Freunde, I am talkin about the Happy Hour! Oh, I can't wait. I need to get the chops up, though, to prepare for our victory celebration that I've dubbed "Febrehabruarii -- 28 Days, Not To Be Confused With Its Sequel, 28 Days Later." F28DNTBCWIS28DL? Doubtful. Probable? Keg. Come. BYO, though, the kegs for me. Daniel can have some. And Brett Sabulous could have had some if were going to be in town. Party starts at 8 in Addison Circle. Bring a friend.
I didn't really save any money this year. Instead, I spent every dime that I normally spend on alcohol and cigarettes dining on only the most expensive of cuisines. You haven't lived until you've had 3 foot long crab legs, or 6 lobsters wood grilled on the table in front of you, or rows of raw oysters on a halfshell abed a mound of Sonic ice. I gave up red meat in addition to the other carnal pleasures, so rare steak was off the menu. I didn't really lose any weight either, but damned if it wasn't worth it.
This was the best fucking Febrehabruarii of my life. I'll miss it when it's gone and look forward to next year (preview: Febrehabruariii). Thanks to all of you for your continued attempts to entice me to fail at my goal, and thanks to me for ensuring none of you succeed. Onward, and upward. To the bars!
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