The Soapboxx
Friday, November 10, 2006
So You Want To Give Up Drinking? Great, Just Don't Start On A Wednesday
Last year Cardiff University spent trillions of pounds of taxpayers money coming up with a formula that determined exactly which day of the year was the most insufferable. Specifically, where in the year do we find ourselves, as a species, at our lowest point, held between the vice-like teeth of depression?
The thing is, I don't know why anyone didn't attempt this before. It seems so obvious and, quite frankly, simple. To calculate the day of misery, one simply uses the formula 1/8W+(D-d) 3/8xTQ MxNA, where W is weather, D is debt (less the money (d) due on January's pay day, which will probably still be wiped out by that last-minute Playstation 3 from Hong Kong) and T is the time since Christmas (or possibly stands for turkey.)
Q is the period since you last failed to quit a bad habit, M refers to your general level of motivation (which if the habit was amphetamines or coffee, is pretty low) and NA is the need to take action and do something about it (i.e., 'not applicable').
See? Easy. And the answer: January 24th. And, of course, that fell on a Monday.
People typically hate Mondays. Ask anybody their least favourite day of the week, and they're bound to say Monday. Geek mecca site Slashdot.com conducted a recent poll that asked their users to select the day of the week they liked the least (from a controversial limited pool of seven), and out of some fifty thousand responses, 58% said Monday.
Bob Geldof even documented the phenomenon in The Boomtown Rats' cracking I Don't Like Mondays, and then proceeded to never do anything of any lasting significance ever again.
Both Dublin and Garfield hate them, the stockmarket shat itself on a particularly black one - twice - and let's not forget poor old Solomon Grundy. He was born on a Monday and was dead by the end of the week.
The thing is, they're all wrong. Monday isn't the worst day of the week; Wednesday is. And it all comes down to the fact that there's never anything on the telly. Ever.
Now, this might not seem too bad, and even quite trivial, but you have to put it into context. Specifically, Wednesday is the worst day of the week to find yourself in the position of 'not drinking'.
See, we all go through phases where we suspect that the idea of a day off might be a good one. There's nothing especially significant that pushes us towards this decision, although you have been feeling kind of tired, lately, now you think about it, and something in your abdomen that's either a kidney or your liver seems to be dying or wishing it was. Recently, it seems to take five minutes longer to get up each and every morning, so pretty soon you'll be setting last Friday's alarm for next Wednesday. And you'll still hit the snooze button.
A period of abstinence seems wise. Indeed, it would be folly ignore the body's cries for moderation. So you make an inner agreement with yourself to stop. The big question now, is: when does that stoppage, start?
Friday is no good, and neither is Saturday. Those days are reserved for the consumption of alcohol. It says as much in the Bible (probably.) Come Sunday you always have a drop or two left from Saturday, and, well, Monday's coming up, and you know what they say about that. And, guess what? Monday was pretty hellish, so a large glass of wine or two is basically sound medical advice. Tuesday you're meeting a friend after work, and Thursday gives you a chance to prepare the body for Friday and Saturday (which is what every doctor recommends. None of this binge-drinking melarchy for you. No, sir!)
Which leaves Wednesday. Wednesday is a really empty day. Nothing ever happened on a Wednesday. OK, sure, we had a Black Wednesday there, too, but otherwise it's limited to a crappy football team from Sheffield and the goth posterchild from The Addams Family. Neither of which has much appeal to anybody who considers themselves normal.
See, the problem with not drinking is the 'not' part. When you remove something from your life that is a source of great entertainment you need to replace it with something equally thrilling, or, believe me, you will fail. So you turn to the TV, and while on every other day of the week it will do its level best not to let you down, on Wednesday it delivers the kind of life-threatening package that even Ted Kaczynski would find objectionable.
Just a quick meander through last week's TV guide will show you what I mean. On Monday we had a great new show about British prison life. Tuesday thrills us with Horizon and a double-dose of CSI. Thursday has Criminal Minds, Never Mind The Buzzcocks and without fail a cracking film on ITV2. Friday cushions us with Have I Got News For You, QI and even bloody Jonathan Ross. We're never at home on Saturday anyway, but even if we are, there's a show about Hitler and your choice of at least ten movies. And Sunday gives us Planet Earth and Entourage.
And what do we get on Wednesday? Torchwood, which is a bit like Doctor Who, except rubbish, some show about fat people walking all over England in yet another attempt to lose weight/gain attention and The Bill, which is the sort of the programme you watch only if you consider Crispy Pancakes a fine source of nourishment.
So, what happens is you get home from work, have something to eat, slump yourself on the sofa, and remain quite adamant that you're not going to drink. Then you switch on the box, and by the time you've rapid-fire remote-controlled your way from the hideous theme tune to The Bill, on to more examples of why the seriously obese are rarely full of anything except excuses, to an intergalactic drama about space whoopsies, you'll be halfway through a six-pack of White Lightning and ringing your local kebab shop for the 'special'.
And don't tell me I should consider reading, because trust me, when you've had three cans of Lightning you're doing well if you can make out the letters on the tin.
It's about six weeks until Christmas, seven until New Year's Eve, and 70 days until January 24. And here's the best advice I can possibly give you: ignore the first two, but whatever you do, make sure you've got a truckload of booze in the house come the latter. Because not only is January 24 scientifically the most depressing day of the year, pretty soon it's going to be a whole lot worse. In 2007 it falls on a bloody Wednesday.
The thing is, I don't know why anyone didn't attempt this before. It seems so obvious and, quite frankly, simple. To calculate the day of misery, one simply uses the formula 1/8W+(D-d) 3/8xTQ MxNA, where W is weather, D is debt (less the money (d) due on January's pay day, which will probably still be wiped out by that last-minute Playstation 3 from Hong Kong) and T is the time since Christmas (or possibly stands for turkey.)
Q is the period since you last failed to quit a bad habit, M refers to your general level of motivation (which if the habit was amphetamines or coffee, is pretty low) and NA is the need to take action and do something about it (i.e., 'not applicable').
See? Easy. And the answer: January 24th. And, of course, that fell on a Monday.
People typically hate Mondays. Ask anybody their least favourite day of the week, and they're bound to say Monday. Geek mecca site Slashdot.com conducted a recent poll that asked their users to select the day of the week they liked the least (from a controversial limited pool of seven), and out of some fifty thousand responses, 58% said Monday.
Bob Geldof even documented the phenomenon in The Boomtown Rats' cracking I Don't Like Mondays, and then proceeded to never do anything of any lasting significance ever again.
Both Dublin and Garfield hate them, the stockmarket shat itself on a particularly black one - twice - and let's not forget poor old Solomon Grundy. He was born on a Monday and was dead by the end of the week.
The thing is, they're all wrong. Monday isn't the worst day of the week; Wednesday is. And it all comes down to the fact that there's never anything on the telly. Ever.
Now, this might not seem too bad, and even quite trivial, but you have to put it into context. Specifically, Wednesday is the worst day of the week to find yourself in the position of 'not drinking'.
See, we all go through phases where we suspect that the idea of a day off might be a good one. There's nothing especially significant that pushes us towards this decision, although you have been feeling kind of tired, lately, now you think about it, and something in your abdomen that's either a kidney or your liver seems to be dying or wishing it was. Recently, it seems to take five minutes longer to get up each and every morning, so pretty soon you'll be setting last Friday's alarm for next Wednesday. And you'll still hit the snooze button.
A period of abstinence seems wise. Indeed, it would be folly ignore the body's cries for moderation. So you make an inner agreement with yourself to stop. The big question now, is: when does that stoppage, start?
Friday is no good, and neither is Saturday. Those days are reserved for the consumption of alcohol. It says as much in the Bible (probably.) Come Sunday you always have a drop or two left from Saturday, and, well, Monday's coming up, and you know what they say about that. And, guess what? Monday was pretty hellish, so a large glass of wine or two is basically sound medical advice. Tuesday you're meeting a friend after work, and Thursday gives you a chance to prepare the body for Friday and Saturday (which is what every doctor recommends. None of this binge-drinking melarchy for you. No, sir!)
Which leaves Wednesday. Wednesday is a really empty day. Nothing ever happened on a Wednesday. OK, sure, we had a Black Wednesday there, too, but otherwise it's limited to a crappy football team from Sheffield and the goth posterchild from The Addams Family. Neither of which has much appeal to anybody who considers themselves normal.
See, the problem with not drinking is the 'not' part. When you remove something from your life that is a source of great entertainment you need to replace it with something equally thrilling, or, believe me, you will fail. So you turn to the TV, and while on every other day of the week it will do its level best not to let you down, on Wednesday it delivers the kind of life-threatening package that even Ted Kaczynski would find objectionable.
Just a quick meander through last week's TV guide will show you what I mean. On Monday we had a great new show about British prison life. Tuesday thrills us with Horizon and a double-dose of CSI. Thursday has Criminal Minds, Never Mind The Buzzcocks and without fail a cracking film on ITV2. Friday cushions us with Have I Got News For You, QI and even bloody Jonathan Ross. We're never at home on Saturday anyway, but even if we are, there's a show about Hitler and your choice of at least ten movies. And Sunday gives us Planet Earth and Entourage.
And what do we get on Wednesday? Torchwood, which is a bit like Doctor Who, except rubbish, some show about fat people walking all over England in yet another attempt to lose weight/gain attention and The Bill, which is the sort of the programme you watch only if you consider Crispy Pancakes a fine source of nourishment.
So, what happens is you get home from work, have something to eat, slump yourself on the sofa, and remain quite adamant that you're not going to drink. Then you switch on the box, and by the time you've rapid-fire remote-controlled your way from the hideous theme tune to The Bill, on to more examples of why the seriously obese are rarely full of anything except excuses, to an intergalactic drama about space whoopsies, you'll be halfway through a six-pack of White Lightning and ringing your local kebab shop for the 'special'.
And don't tell me I should consider reading, because trust me, when you've had three cans of Lightning you're doing well if you can make out the letters on the tin.
It's about six weeks until Christmas, seven until New Year's Eve, and 70 days until January 24. And here's the best advice I can possibly give you: ignore the first two, but whatever you do, make sure you've got a truckload of booze in the house come the latter. Because not only is January 24 scientifically the most depressing day of the year, pretty soon it's going to be a whole lot worse. In 2007 it falls on a bloody Wednesday.
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