Sublime

It was never my intention to end up in A.A. If someone mentioned perhaps I drank too much, I laughed at them. I didn’t drink any more than my friends. I never got drunk when I didn’t want to—never mind that I always wanted to. I couldn’t be an alcoholic.

Bebida não cria monstros, Tati. Só liberta os que já existem.

I had broken blood vessels around my eyes from vomiting in the morning.

So long as any man drinks when he wants to and stops when he wants to, he isn’t a drunkard, no matter how much he drinks or how often he falls under the table.

A poor woman in a poor public-house was broken with a ruinous fine for giving a child a sip of shandy-gaff. Nobody supposed that the law verbally stigmatised the action for being done by a poor person in a poor public-house. But most certainly nobody will dare to pretend that a rich man giving a boy a sip of champagne would have been punished so he

“We accidentally ate weed,”

GUY WALKS INTO A BAR . . . A drunk goes into a bar, stumbles over a few people, sits down and asks for a whiskey. The bartender tosses him out because he’s too drunk. A few minutes later, the drunk comes back into the bar, knocks over a stool, sits down at the bar and again asks for a whiskey. Again, the bartender tosses him out. A few minutes go b

This was way better. I mean, not to sound straightedge and boring, but is being sober low-key more fun than drinking?