Although no one has been so bold as to put it in print, there has been a whisper campaign that is nasty in tone. Specifically, some of the pundits have implied that the severe restrictions levied by my dietician (pictured here) are not actually all that difficult or stringent. So let me elaborate:
1. If I have a glass of wine, or a warm-up martini, or even a post-meal sphincter of brandy it counts towards my three beer limit. Said another way, if I start my day with a friggin' Mimosa (sometimes known as a Bucks Fizz), I'm only allowed two beers for the whole rest of the day!
2. With no specific timeframe agreed upon, these cruel limitations are ongoing and indefinite, like the way Dubwa looks at wars with countries we invade. In addition, I live under the constant threat of random audit.
In the face of this evidence, I think you will all agree that these restraints are repressive in nature.
It was with this knowledge that I waded timidly into the belly of the beast after work yesterday. That's right, Novare' Res, and their $3 draft special (ends tonight). And I did it! I drank 3 of the glorious Smuttynose IPA pints , left the bar 25 minutes after I'd entered (I'd nursed the beer to prolong the enjoyment), went home, pulled the sheets up over my head, and cried myself to sleep.
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