OH MISERY, THY NAME IS SOBRIETY...



After a brief hiatus from the wonderful world of blogging, I have returned.

I would like to thank my already loyal fans who have been calling and emailing me to enquire about my web whereabouts and why there was not another cheesy update last week. As a proud citizen of this country, I took it upon myself to adhere to the government's kind request to stay home from work last Tuesday as the country stood in solidarity with our Muslim brothers and sisters in celebration of Eid-ul-Fitr. For a brief (and may I emphasize brief) moment, I even considered paying a visit to that famous mosque in Port of Spain. You know the one, it's run by the Imam who just happened to try to take over the country about 16 years ago and now still roams the land free of charges. I really considered it. [Remember, the Revolution runs through my veins so it makes perfect sense that I am drawn to such important figures.] However, the sane part of my DNA opted for a much safer option - lunch on the couch with my mother and the Young & the Restless.

After my stellar performance over a week ago at a club that will remain unnamed, I have taken it upon myself to start taking this Tuesday's Child thing even more seriously. Having placed a moratorium on ingestion of the spirits (and other potent substances), I can already see my gracefulness gearing into full throttle. Last Saturday, after enduring the cruel and unusual punishment of the world's worst movie ever made, I stepped into another unnamed restaurant, also known as The Evil Multinational's Cafeteria (because every company event is hosted there). For three hours, I sat at the bar with friends and drank ginger ale.

Im pausing for a while, giving my readers some time to digest the magnitude of my revelation....
.... and I continue....

Saturday being a full 7 days since my vows of abstinence began, it would be safe to say that dementia was happily settling in. Was it me, or did the bartender really look at my quite familar face in absolute shock at my order of ginger ale? Or was he waiting for the "and" followed by a request for a double of something? Did his jaw really drop so low that a few mosquitos had some time to fly in and lay eggs? No, it must have been my imagination. I looked over at Johnny (Mr Walker if you nasty) and I can almost guarantee that I saw a tear trickling down his smooth exterior. All the bottles of the bar joined in a sad song and Im sure I heard strains of "Baby Come Back" leaking out of a Goose's mouth. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted someone who in my glory days, would have been a goldmine for the night - a solitary old man at the bar. I looked over at him, just to humour myself and said hi. Of course, he responded, a bit shyly at first, but ten minutes later, I was his new BFF. Then came the line that would have made every conquest bone in my body stand at attention, "would you like a drink?". Did he just offer me a drink? Can I really say no to a free beverage? I kindly declined, informing him that I was quite content with my own. I continued to gulp my ginger ale while I sent messages to the gods in charge of good and reformed people. See, Im changing my ways, now will you let me get with Thierry?

Oh misery, thy name is sobriety.