Update

Guys! I’m alive! I’m living and breathing and I still pay for this web space! I’m sorry I’ve been AWOL, but this time of year can be a little hectic for Bev at work, and since I haven’t yet been discovered by Coors, Kim, or… Warren Buffett, or any other person/corporation that could relieve me of my miserable day job, I actually have to, like, try.

I am also one official¹ week into a quick cycle of The Whole 30. If you’re unfamiliar with The Whole 30, the website will tell you that it is a guide to ‘food freedom’ and I will tell you that it is a guide to becoming a prisoner in your own home (or office) because you a) are constantly planning, buying, chopping, cooking, and packing up food to fit the guidelines of the program, and b) you can’t eat or drink anything that wasn’t manufactured in actual Oz by Bigfoot, the LochNess Monster, and Tupac.

So, 30 days of no alcohol- you must be thinking that Bev’s life must be pretty boring then, huh? You would be wrong. And I plan to prove that in the next few days by describing some recent events in the life of Beverly Soberstein, so stay tuned. For now, I need to go take out my contacts, throw in a load of laundry, and clean up my kitchen. Because all I’ve done for the last seven days is plan, buy, chop, cook, and pack up food to fit the guidelines of my journey to masochism food freedom.

¹That is, if you consider “official” to include the 835 Coors Lights, Sauv Beasties, and tequila shots I had Wednesday night at a coworker happy hour. I planned for that one indiscretion, and I was actually able to keep all of my food items Whole 30 compliant (I really hate that word for some reason) both while drunk and while hungover. What I’m really telling you here is not that I can eat Whole 30 on a hangover and survive it. I am telling you that I am immortal.