Dry January: Uncle Bobbys Bitter-Sweet Guide to Sober Survival
Dear Uncle Bobby - I’ve been roped into doing Dry January by some overachieving friends who say it’s “good for me.” But it’s day three, and I swear water isn’t hitting the same. Is there a trick to surviving this, or do I just accept that my social life is about to become painfully sober?
Thirstily Yours,,
Parched and Panicked
Ah, Parched, welcome to the annual exercise in regret known as Dry January — or as I like to call it, Why Did I Agree to This Month. Nothing like ringing in the new year by voluntarily removing the one thing that made Aunt Carol’s holiday stories tolerable.
Here’s the thing — Dry January isn’t about health. It’s about watching your friends suffer publicly on Instagram while pretending they love sparkling water. “Oh, this kombucha tastes just like wine!” No, it doesn’t, Karen. It tastes like fermented disappointment.
Now, if you’re serious about surviving, let me offer you some Uncle Bobby-approved tips:
- Become the Designated Driver. Not because you’re responsible — but because watching your friends slur through karaoke stone-cold sober is free entertainment. Bonus: you’ll remember it. They won’t.
- Get Fancy with Mocktails. Mix random juices together, throw in some mint, and give it a pretentious name like “Citrus Elegance.” It won’t fill the void, but at least you’ll feel mildly sophisticated while crying inside.
Count Down Like It’s New Year’s Eve. Dry January isn’t a lifestyle; it’s a hostage situation with a 31-day timer. Mark off each day like you’re on a calendar in prison. Freedom’s coming.
Or… and hear me out… you could just quietly redefine “dry.” Maybe “dry” means cutting back to just weekends. Or maybe it means “drinking things without umbrellas in them.” It’s all about perspective, Parched.
In the end, Dry January isn’t about becoming a better person — it’s about lasting long enough to brag that you “did it” at brunch in February. So hang in there. And if all else fails, just remember: juice looks like wine if you squint hard enough. Cheers to your suffering!
– Uncle Bobby