How one extra glass of booze can shorten your life, and why it doesn’t matter

Twitter scared the bejesus out of me today with a link to The Lancet, a somewhat more highly regarded publication than this blog, which has published a massive meta-analysis of almost 600,000 alcohol drinkers in 83 studies.

tHE lANCET HEADLINEI don’t have the attention span or the mental capacity to read a study like this, so I just scrolled through my Twitter feed, and this is what I learned:

  • Nineteen countries disagree about the ideal limit for alcohol (assuming you want optimal health, and who knows, you might not)
  • Men who drink less than 100g of alcohol per week can expect to live one to two years longer than men who drink twice that amountdrinks-2578446_960_720
  • Women who drink less than 100g of alcohol per week can expect to live 1.3 years longer than women who drink more than 100g of alcohol per week
  • Beer drinkers, spirits drinkers, and binge drinkers have the highest mortality risk
  • The ideal weekly drink limit is twice as much for men as it is for women (11 vs. 5!)
  • Exceeding the ideal weekly drink limit could shorten your lifespan by 30 minutes!!!!

So OMG, people, there’s so much to unpack here.

  • First of all, isn’t a lancet a kind of stabby thing for taking blood samples? This prestigious journal didn’t have to be named The Lancet. It could have been named Mike Tyson mysteriesThe Scalpel or The Retractor or The Bonesaw. Just saying.
  • Second, we need to move to Spain, Italy, or Portugal, where recommended drinks/week are 50 per cent higher. Whee!
  • Third, how are we to compare the findings for women and men as compacted into understandable bullet points by the Twitterverse? I mean, I only have two brain cells.
  • Fourth, wait till my mum finds out she’s not supposed to match my dad drink for drink. She’s gonna freak.
  • Fifth, we can’t binge?
  • Sixth, ummm, 30 minutes? That’s like three episodes of Mike Tyson Mysteries. Does it matter? I guess it depends whether we’re caught up on Netflix or not.

WreckSpex Zebra wood

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Dad, where’s the beer?

My fellow inebriates,

You should see the amazing beer fridges that have popped up in our neighbourhood this week.

Even Miss P made one.

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Well, she started making one.

And Miss V made a snow gerbil.

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My question is, where is the beer to put in these fridges, and how do we guard that beer from this red-eyed gerbil?

Dad?

INNIS & GUNN TOASTED OAK IPA—not just for me and my dad!

My Fellow Inebriates,

Usually my dad and I get to bogart all the India Pale Ale that enters LBHQ. My mother’s marshmallow tastebuds can’t tolerate IPA’s “earwax and elastic band” topnotes and she has no comprehension of how symphonic a good IPA can be. So when my dad brought home INNIS & GUNN TOASTED OAK IPA, I thought we’d be safe from sharing with her. Together we could drink in peace and scratch ourselves as much as we liked.

Innis & Gun Toasted Oak IPABoy, was I wrong. Not only did Mum like INNIS & GUNN TOASTED OAK IPA; she bellied up to the counter with us and took half of our precious beer! Then she proceeded to marvel about the lack of earwax and elastic bands, the appetizing crystal-gold pour, the complexly hoppy aroma, the delicious toasty taste with buttery golden-rum asides, the refreshing mouthfeel, and the lingering bitter finish! OMG, my fellow inebriates, why didn’t my dad buy twice as much INNIS & GUNN TOASTED OAK IPA? Then we could have at least knocked my mum out (or wait—maybe not … only 5.6 percent alcohol).

Lest you think Dad and I don’t like Mum—it’s not really like that. We just like keeping all the IPA for ourselves. Dad and I (and Scarybear) take the IPA down to the movie room and watch action movies, knowing she won’t go anywhere near us or our beer. We thought we had a good plan with INNIS & GUNN TOASTED OAK IPA! We had Transformers: Age of Extinction all lined up! And suddenly there she was with us, suggesting we open a second bottle and discuss books or something. OMG!

Weirdly enough, though, the more INNIS & GUNN TOASTED OAK IPA we drank, the more my mum started to seem okay—after all, she was being liberal with the bottle opener. And so I thought, too bad for Scarybear and the Transformers movie, but having a couple of IPAs with my parents ain’t that bad.

And then the kids came charging out of their room, seized me from the counter, and dressed me up like a superhero.

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And that, my fellow inebriates, was the last sip for me of INNIS & GUNN TOASTED OAK IPA.