One year ago, I was hospitalized. I won't bore you with the details, so let's just say I was struck down with a case of having an enormous penis. Several vials of blood were taken for various tests, all of them coming back positive for a magnificent, awe-inspiring dong, which I was already fully aware of. What I didn't expect, however, was the doctor's first question when explaining my results.

"So ... how much do you drink per day?"

I started to answer, but he threw up a hand to stop me and continued, "If you don't stop drinking right now, you'll be dead before you're 40. You're 35, and your liver is already showing signs of shutting down. Then again, the faster all the drunks die off, the more space we free up in this hospital for people with actual medical problems that are beyond their own control." Then he punched me in the face and hobbled out of the room on his cane.

So I quit, cold turkey, after 22 years of what could only be called the my penis of alcohol addictions. That was a little over a year ago, and during that time I've discovered some things about quitting booze that they manage to leave out of inspirational movie montages.