Following the end of our campaign we were determined to ask the tough questions. Questions like ‘Does febfast actually work?’, which cut to the core of what we’re about. We’ve been rapt to receive over 1100 replies to our annual end of campaign survey. Here’s a sneak peak of what you told us…

84% of survey respondents saved money during febfast (!) and, on average, between $100-$200 (!!). OK, it’s kind of a no-brainer that no alcohol = more money, but it’s nice to know that febfast comes along at the right time to help pay off that Christmas credit card bill.

Other top benefits of febfast included:
• Feeling sharper (64%)
• Losing weight (61%)
• Better sleep (56%)
• Overall health improvement (47%)

Another big question we ask ourselves is: do febfasters find the month off too hard? Well, only 4% fell off the wagon (outside of buying Time Out passes). We think that’s pretty darn good. It was the hottest summer on record, BBQ’s were booked, parties were frequent and temptation sat waiting at every Friday night drinks. So, all up, we’re impressed 96% of fasters made it through the month. But we’d be lying if we didn’t report that many found socialising without a drink in hand, or unwinding at the end of the busy week, really tough. We also like one person who admitted: “I broke it three times, two on social occasions and once when a beer dropped out of the fridge”. To err is to be human.

Did people hit the bottle post Feb? Apparently not. We’re guessing many had a celebratory drink on March 1. (When one climbs Everest, one sips Champagne at the summit!). But a whopping 60% actually decreased their normal drinking levels in March. Only a fraction of you (4%) increase your drinking levels in March.

Of course, febfast is also about raising awareness about drinking in society. We’re really pleased with what you’ve told us on this front too:
• Two thirds agreed that they chatted about alcohol during Feb
• 67% agreed they were more aware of the impact of alcohol on their health
• A massive 78% agreed they were more likely to check and be conscious of their drinking levels as a result of febfast.

Nice.

Finally, a huge thanks to all those who sent their thanks and words of support. It blew us away to read how people had changed their drinking habits, challenged some assumptions about drinking and raised some cash. Thanks to you we raised $1,042,000 for highly vulnerable families and young people tackling serious alcohol and drug issues.

Does febfast work? We think yes. Now, about those footy results…

The post The big question: Does febfast work? appeared first on FebFast.

The biggest change is that I will no longer be drinking before or during comedy performances. As a comedian I can drink while at work, and often alcohol forms part of the payment, but that doesn’t mean I should. Actually those are two very good reasons why I should, but still I’m ruling it out. I want to make this a career. Not something that covers the rent, the cost of a night out and sometimes food.

After having a month off booze and completing over sixty gigs at the Perth and Adelaide Fringes during February, I’ve learnt that I’m a better comedian without it. There’s even video proof.

At the start of the month I was afraid of failing at comedy while sober, which would be a lot harder than failing while drunk, because at least then you’ve got alcohol as an excuse. During the whole month, it was only when I was properly drunk that I properly failed.

The astute may’ve have noticed that I haven’t mentioned drinking AFTER gigs. That’s because I’m not going to stop that. Got to get through those complimentary drinks somehow.

By reducing how much I drink at comedy gigs, instead of having up to six big nights a week, now it’ll be down to one or two. Probably even a couple of alcohol free days a week. Before February, I hadn’t had one of those in over a year.

From others who have had time without alcohol in the past, I’ve repeatedly heard that they had more energy and got much more done. I suppose I noticed a slight change, but nothing revolutionary. For me, the main thing that changed was my mood. There were still good and bad days, but no run of days where it was all too much and there was no point to anything, which seem follow every one my benders.

In terms of my ‘to do’ list, I did learn that, whether drinking or not, it always takes longer than expected to knock off each task and if I continually put work before exercise, friends and relaxing. The one big loser in that equation is me. I still haven’t got it right, but I’d like to include more of what makes me immediately happy, while still getting enough done to feel satisfied.

One peculiar thing was the amount of very normal people who told me they couldn’t do it, and admitted they had a problem. They weren’t slurring, stumbling, swaying, covered in filth or living on the street. Most of the people I know through comedy and performing do seem to regularly drink, I just never realised that so many saw it as an issue.

Thanks to FebFast I did learn how to say no to a big night out. By refusing that first drink that would lead to many more, and the next day I never felt like I missed out. Instead of standing around talking to people I half knew and didn’t know at all, I was happier by myself working, reading, watching or sleeping. It used to be that I didn’t feel right if I wasn’t out on a Friday and Saturday night, that I could start without knowing anyone and quickly gather together a crew. I believe that this change is more commonly known as becoming a boring prick.

When it comes to good friends or romance, that’s the time to be out and drinking and it’s awesome. Except when the friends or romance don’t happen as expected. Then I regret not watching a movie instead.

As well as now being able to refuse a big night out, I’m now comfortable saying no to just one drink. During February I lasted through so many situations where I’d usually have a drink. When something goes wrong or right, meeting up with someone, when I’m offered one, when I’m waiting for someone, it’s a mammoth list.

Whenever I’m in a situation where others are drinking and I’ve decided not to, I still look at their beers and wish I had one. If it’s a mixed drink, not so much. So I still don’t know how to properly socialize without drinking, with those that are. As I’ve mentioned before, maybe this is something for FebFast next year.

After a month off, the alcohol buzz only feels even more fantastic.

Quitting things are far easier with a support network. It’s why people join weight watchers, alcoholics anonymous, and the rest of it. I know there’s much more to it than just joining a group, and that after leaving the group lots of people slip back into bad habits.

The only way for me to stop anything is to make a bet about it, which I did with alcohol at the start of February. The money was a factor, but far more important is that I really like betting. If there’s ever a month for not gambling, I don’t know how I’d get through that, because just by betting that I’d make it, I will have already lost.

While not drinking, I also became aware of how, in Australian society, making that choice marks and taints you as the weird one. People stare at you and say things like,
‘Why wouldn’t you have a drink?’
‘You’re have a month off? What a stupid idea.’
‘Can’t handle your grog mate? What’s wrong with you?’

Then if you have a few drinks and decide to stop you’re told, ‘There’s no point unless you get smashed.’ I was one of these people. On a big night out, I worry that I still am.

In Australia, is it even possible to celebrate anything without alcohol?

Drinking to excess your whole life is unhealthy, and another big reason for me cutting down is that I don’t want to turn into the older men who reel off the above statements, and are continually drinking and smoking. Hanging out near them, I’m constantly worried that they’re about to keel over.

I also learnt how many pubs, clubs, restaurants and cafes shut off their coffee machines several hours before they close. It’d make being in these places and not drinking much easier if more places offered something other than alcohol that was worth drinking.

For me, the whole purpose of FebFast was personal, and it was to stop alcohol controlling me. Now that it’s getting towards the end of March, I’d have to admit that it’s probably been a draw. When I’m about to perform, I no longer need that drink in my hand to feel safe, and I no longer feel weird in a bar without one. However there have already been times in the past few weeks when one drink has too quickly turned into too many, and I’m the drunkest person at the bar, nightclub, festival.

Over the coming months it’s going to be interesting to find out if I maintain, start drinking less, or slowly slide back into drinking more. I’ll be back with an update at the start of 2014. Until then, enjoy Dry July and all the other months where you can choose to abstain. I won’t be. One month a year is enough for me.

For those who bet me that I wouldn’t make it, you lose. Now buy me a beer to say well done, and I’ll buy you one back because beer is delicious.

Lastly, a big thanks to everyone who sponsored me, and everyone who sponsored anyone during FebFast. You deserve to feel great about it. All that money goes directly to helping those struggling with addition, as well as the many other associated problems and people affected.

Xavier Toby is a writer and comedian with upcoming shows in Melbourne (Mar 27-Apr 9), Sydney (May 7-11) and Brisbane (May 12-19). For details and more stupidity: www.xaviertoby.com

The post So, What Happens Next? appeared first on FebFast.

Well, this is the first time in weeks that I’ve been sober enough to put together a coherent sentence. That’s not true, I’ve been busy. Mostly drinking.

Anyway, towards the end of February I got extremely jittery. Every time there was an opportunity to drink, I kept thinking about the very near future when I could take it, and I saw them everywhere.

A morning beer in the shower, sips from a hip flask on the bus into town, a long neck in a brown paper bag for the walk across town, filling my water bottle with white wine, a shot of whiskey in my coffee, and a piece of rum infused cake to go with that coffee. Then it was 8am, and I had a short radio interview.

I couldn’t decide if I was thinking so much about alcohol because it’d been so long since I’d had a drink, or because the moment when I could have one was so near. Whenever I saw or smelt a beer, I could taste it. A few times I even poked out my tongue and licked the air in front of beer billboards, and just thinking of beer rendered me incapable of any other thoughts – I’d become a zombie for beer.

At the start of February I was contemplating giving up alcohol forever, but only a few days in I knew there was no chance of that. For a few reasons. I wanted to see if I could resist falling back into bad habits, and I really wanted one, and I had some drink cards I needed to use before I left Adelaide, and having a drink on March 1st was going to be way more interesting to write about than not having one.

So, when did I restart with the drink? Well, I was out after midnight on Thursday February 28th, but I managed to resist. To prove to myself that I could, outside of the whole febfast thing.

There was even a ‘onesie’ party – a party for those dressed in one-piece anything. While flyering people in my penguin suit, I was told about it repeatedly. Sometimes by the same already drunk person. Every other night when the party wasn’t on, I stood out while dressed in a penguin suit and handing out flyers. However with so many other people dressed up, people didn’t even realise I had a show.

On Thursday I did a total of seven gigs, so after midnight I was exhausted, and most importantly of all, everyone going to the party seemed young and over-excited and, as I got closer, their high-pitched voices gave me a headache. So I went home.

Is this what it feels like to be an adult? To have opportunity to wipe yourself out while talking to hot girls dressed up as animals and cartoon characters, all in one easy to remove single piece of clothing, and then not take it? It’s either being an adult, or an idiot.

So I like to pretend that I was able to resist drinking on that Thursday night because over February I’d developed my mental fortitude and abilities to abstain, but really it was because I was tired and the young-uns were shitting me.

From the moment I awoke on Friday the first of March, I knew I could drink at any moment, and that I was going to start at some stage that day. It was a peculiar feeling, and like that first dance or first kiss, I tried to choose my moment carefully. At 3pm there was some networking drinks, only one half of that interested me, but the drinks were free and there’s no alcohol more delicious than free alcohol.

At 3.01pm I had a Coopers Pale Ale in my hand. Probably my favourite beer. Chatting to one person and then another, I hesitated then wasn’t sure I wanted to. Someone took a photo. Someone else took a video.

At 3.01pm and twenty seconds, I decided yes and attempted to down the whole thing at once. Halfway through I started to feel light-headed, then I got an ice-cream headache so stopped. The alcohol had already wrapped me in a blanket of gently buzzing warmth, apart from my head which was throbbing.

Still, it felt amazing.

Three beers and twenty minutes later I had the confidence to network with anyone, but resisted. I’d already tripped over the penguin suit three times and was pretty sure that while I thought I was standing still, I was actually swaying.

Over the final few days of February, the conscientious team at febfast had sent out several emails warning people to take it easy on March 1st. To drink plenty of water, take breaks, eat plenty and to be aware that your tolerance for alcohol would be lower.

But where’s the fun in that?

I’ve heard countless stories of junkies who spend years hooked on a drug, go through rehab and then that first hit back on it kills them, because they don’t ease back into it.

After a few drinks though, all you want are more drinks. At the networking event I managed eight free ones and was well on the way to drunken bliss as I headed off to my three afternoon guest spots. Following those and with a beer in hand, I hosted a comedy gallery tour. All went well, thanks for asking.

It was my last night at the Adelaide Fringe, so next I sat down for a farewell drink with some of the stallholders and venue managers that were working in the area that included my venue. We alternated beer and tequila, and I considered some water, but then remembered that beer is around 90% water so didn’t bother.

Two more gigs which included more free drinks and whenever I felt the stumbles and stammers coming on, I’d simply back off a bit. On stage I was fine, in general conversation I was funnier, other people were more interesting and I’d already flirted with a few girls. I was sailing, I was coasting, I was freaking airborne.

My final show at the Adelaide Fringe sold out an hour from the starting time, and I was primed to blast through then party hard.

What followed was my worst show of 2013.

From the outset half the audience were with me, but half most definitely were not. They didn’t heckle or talk, but they gave me nothing. Not a laugh, smile or a smirk. I really felt that they didn’t want to be there, and seemed as if they were sitting through a compulsory eight-hour seminar on workplace safety. Not an hour of stand up comedy.

These people were enthusiasm black holes, laughter sinks and fun vacuums and, about twenty minutes in, they’d managed to suck most of the energy from those were having a good time.

I knew these jokes were funny, every other night people laughed at them, but nothing I tried had any success. Crowd interaction, ad-libbing, my best jokes, safe humour, risky humour. None of it.

No longer did I feel drunk, but still I was terrified that the audience could hear me slurring, see me stumbling and suspected I was intoxicated. I thought my voice was fine, but don’t slurring drunks always sound find in their own mind? This was one of many fears racing around my mind, as the gig got increasingly awkward.

It would be easy to blame alcohol, so I did. However it could’ve been that I was just exhausted after a very busy month of performances, maybe something had happened with the quiet group before they even arrived for the show, or perhaps they just weren’t big laughers and I was overreacting.

A week later I sat with my director and watched a video of that performance. I didn’t tell her I’d been drinking, and she instantly pointed out that I lacked the spark and energy of my other February shows she’d seen.

That afternoon we watched some other February footage, then some clips from late last year. Without alcohol, I had to admit I was a better performer.

So I’ve decided to never again drink before or during a performance. Well, I’m going to try. A big change from someone who prior to February had never done a gig without at least one drink in me. At the start of the month, I certainly didn’t predict this.

Back to my last night in Adelaide, and straight after the show, I quickly downed two beers then off to do a late night spot. It went amazingly well. Big laughs all the way through, and it was the verification I needed after a shitty show. I was drunk, actually I was smashed, and even though I smashed it, I know I could’ve achieved the same result sober.

That night I was out until 5am. Full of alcohol I found people more interesting, they found me more interesting, and I chatted to a few bogans and even found them interesting. I talked to girls, I danced, and I danced and talked to girls at the same time. Without falling over, and I haven’t managed that in years.

At 10am the next morning I was up to catch a flight and didn’t even feel hungover, but I suspect that’s because I was still drunk. Then the taxi was stuck in traffic on the way to the airport. A traffic jam. In Adelaide. On a Saturday. The trip from the city to the airport usually takes 20 mins. It took an hour.

This Saturday was by far the busiest on Adelaide’s social calendar. A calendar that’s suspiciously empty outside of February and March. I suspect that outside those months Adelaide actually closes, and everyone moves to the Gold Coast. Which is pretty clever.

Anyway, I have a rule where I refuse to be at the airport any earlier than the duration of my actual flight. So for an hour flight, I never arrive more than an hour before that flight, basically because I’m disorganised and always running late. So if my taxi ride had have taken 20 mins, I would have been there an hour before my flight. As a result, when it took an hour, I missed my flight.

I was tempted to swear off alcohol forever, but instead after I was put on the next flight, I had a beer. It was delicious.

So it’s mid-March and what have I learnt? That I don’t need alcohol when I perform, but it’s still essential for a good night out. Maybe that’s something I’ll try and remedy next February.

Note: Xavier Toby is a writer and comedian with upcoming shows in Melbourne (Mar 27-Apr 9), Sydney (May 7-11) and Brisbane (May 12-19). For details: www.xaviertoby.com

The post Did I have a drink on March 1st? YES. OF COURSE I DID. DON’T BE STUPID. appeared first on FebFast.

Person 4 wins. I don’t know what they win, but if they’re on probation, I wasn’t going to be the one who told them that they couldn’t have it.

With FebFast now over, I fell off the wagon in spectacular style. I did make it, and I managed to resist alcohol even after midnight on Thursday, February 28. Then on Friday, March 1 my first beer was opened just after midday, and my last one at around 5am. With so many opened in between. More on this in my next post.

Many times during February I was faced with compelling reasons to drink, and in those circumstances I would’ve previously had one. By denying myself that drink, I learnt that I didn’t need one. That all the reasons to drink were just excuses for one big reason, that I wanted one.

Since the start of March I’ve learnt that it’s much easier to say yes than it is to say no.

Before looking forward to my catapulting off the wagon, where I lay on the road and it proceeded to run me down again and again, here is a brief list of the many times during February that I felt a fierce compulsion to down a drink, but still managed to go without.

So in no particular order, some of the reasons I very nearly had a drink in February:

Waiting alone at a bar for friends.

Friends texting to say they couldn’t make it.

Catching up with friends after they eventually arrived.

Girls. Talking to them. Watching them (in a non-creepy way). Wanting to talk to them after watching them. Talking to them and not knowing what to say that isn’t extremely polite, because you feel bad after spending so long watching them.

A guy getting the shit kicked out of him in Rundle Mall. Going for the police only to find them already on the way. Watching them drive past, and then after the police eventually arrive, watching as the profusely bleeding guy refused all help and stumbled away.

Before a stand up gig when you need a dose of enthusiasm.

Before a stand up gig when you need to settle down.

During a gig when you’re starting to tire.

After a stand up gig goes really well.

After a stand up gig goes really poorly.

After a stand up gig goes just okay, and you can’t quite work out why.

After a stand up gig goes just okay, and you know it’s your fault.

Seeing a street artist on Rundle Mall have his drawings torn up by a group of drunk aboriginal kids. The kids were then joined by their drunk parents and a brawl broke out. I wish there was some way to describe this differently.

To celebrate after meeting new friends.

Leaving a place full of new friends.

After an argument.

When it’s free.

When it’s a spirit or cocktail or beer or wine you haven’t tried before.

Because in a bar, it’s what you do.

To have the energy to stay up late.

To quieten down your racing mind when it’s time for sleep.

Poor ticket sales. Great ticket sales. After you calculate the paltry amount left from your box office takings, after everyone else has taken their cut.

Seeing a whole lot of your flyers on the ground. In the bin. In the urinal.

Any awkward experience.

Being told how funny you are. Being told how funny you’re not.

The disabled guy on the bus, who you want to help, but you can’t see or work out how. The guilt you feel for being so able bodied, and still whingeing so much.

Because you know if you have a drink, you’ll stop thinking about all this and be able to relax and feel good about yourself.

Being asked while flyering, “Tell us a joke.”

Being told while flyering, “That’s not funny at all.”

Something to do because you don’t smoke, and standing around at the bar waiting to perform in a penguin suit without something in your hand, you know you look stupid. That’s probably more to do with the penguin suit.

Oh yes, the penguin suit. Anytime you’re wearing a penguin suit is a good time to have a drink.

The main reason to have a drink? Whatever the circumstance, you know it’ll make you feel more comfortable.

At the end of February I didn’t discover any magical answer, or even anything that made me feel as comfortable as alcohol. However I did learn how to deal with my discomfort without a drink. So that’s a thing, right?

Although February is over you can still sponsor me here: https://febfast2013.everydayhero.com/au/xavier-toby
Come see me at the Melb Comedy Fest, March 27 until April 9: http://bit.ly/15qOhND

The post Who Needs A Reason to Drink? They’re Everywhere! appeared first on FebFast.

So will this be part of some lasting change? Or will I revert straight back to old habits?

Reverting back to bad habits is exactly what happened the last time I did febfast. At the start of March I went on a bender, and lost a girlfriend and an iPod. I couldn’t say which I miss more, but I definitely miss both for different reasons.

Before I began not drinking this time around, I was more aware of my issues with alcohol. One of my main reasons for doing it was to break my dependence on drink.

For years I never saw it as a real problem. I’ve worn my ability to drink like a badge of pride and often, in our society, that’s exactly how it’s seen. There are different badges, based around the speed of your drinking, and the amount of time you can keep drinking, but it’s always something to be revered and I reckon I’ve collected them all.

Among many I know, being able to remain standing after consuming buckets of alcohol is seen as a sport, and it’s one that I’ve always been good at. For years I’ve constantly been out and always with a drink in my hand, as well as constantly finding new ways to smuggle alcohol into my everyday life. It sounds like fun and it is.

And who doesn’t love a larrikin? Bob Hawke’s still our favourite Prime Minister because he sculled a yard glass. Tony Abbott runs a marathon then swims from Darwin to Nauru towing a boat of asylum seekers, and he gets laughed at for what he wears while he does it. If Julia glugged down a few glasses of vino, her approval rating would only go up.

During this February, I’ve discovered that I’ve used these visions of being the good times guy to cover up a bigger problem. That, without alcohol, I don’t know how to socialise. I still don’t. I’ve tried going out and hanging out with people who are drinking in a pub, club, and at the dinner that extends into the early hours and I just get bored. Talking to girls has become something I used to do. Without alcohol in a social situation, I’m rubbish. I find other people boring, however I find myself by far the most boring of all.

So that’s my problem. I’d really like to be one of those people that can have just a few drinks on a night out. This month I’ve learnt how to say no to a drink, but the wider problem of how to have fun without one remains. I’ve handled my abstinence from alcohol the same way as I handle a painful breakup. By deleting every trace of her from my life.

On March 1st when that temptation is back, I wonder what’s going to happen and I already have my suspicions.

Last night someone asked me, ‘Are you going to have a drink on Friday night? Or are you going to keep this non-drinking thing going?’ ‘Neither,’ I replied. ‘Why wait? As soon as it ticks past midnight on Thursday, I’m going to get stuck straight into the beer.’

Me and alcohol – it’s a work in progress I guess.

With less than 48 hours to go, there’s still time to sponsor me here: https://febfast2013.everydayhero.com/au/xavier-toby
Come see me at the Adelaide Fringe, until March 1: http://bit.ly/Xpas28
Or the Melb Comedy Fest, March 27 until April 9: http://bit.ly/15qOhND

The post So I Might Have a Problem appeared first on FebFast.

I’m reminded of this as many of us count down to our first drink on March 1st. Please please don’t go nuts and end up metaphorically punching yourself in the face with the hangover to end all hangovers on the Saturday!  Below are some sound words of advice from award-winning clinical nutritionist and a renowned teacher of Food as Medicine, Samantha Gowing.

Happy 1st March! 
Howard

—————————————–

TIPPLERS TIPS FOR THE FIRST BIG NIGHT OUT

“One of the best ways to minimize the symptoms of a hangover – headaches, nausea, diarrhoea, fatigue, dehydration, and body aches – is to practice some prevention before, and during, your drinking episodes so…

Chow down.

Eat a substantial meal before you go out to a party or bar. Bread products and foods high in protein, like milk and cheese, slow the absorption of alcohol into the bloodstream by coating your stomach and small intestine. Nibbling on finger foods throughout the night can also slow the intoxication process.

Hold that line.

You’re probably familiar with your tolerance of alcoholic beverages (the point when the alcohol you’ve consumed begins to cause noticeable physical and psychological changes). Crossing your line can easily send you into hangover land the next morning. Challenge yourself to hold that line – set and state a drink max before you go out – and your body and friends will thank you tomorrow.

Consider the congeners.

Congeners are natural by-products of alcohol fermentation. The higher the congener content, the greater the hangover. Gin and vodka have the fewest congeners, while bourbon and red wine claim the most.

Pace yourself.

I recommend one drink per hour as a guide. This rate gives your body a chance to process the alcohol without sending it special delivery to your head.

Mix, not!

Avoid alternating the types of alcohol you consume. If you begin with beer, stick with beer to the end. Starting with Scotch? Stay with Scotch, and so on. For many, downing different kinds of drinks leads to headaches and sick stomachs. It’s challenging enough for your body to react to one type of foreign substance, so why give it a harder time with two, three, or four?

Alternate.

Start your partying with some food, then have a beer, then down some water or juice, then have another beer (remember to pace yourself along the way). Don’t switch off with carbonated drinks – they can speed up intoxication and heighten hangovers.

Sip or sink.

Drink each alcoholic beverage slowly. Remember, your liver can only handle about one ounce of alcohol an hour. Rapid consumption of alcohol via shots, funnels, and drinking games are sure to win you a big hangover.

Have another drink… of water.

Alcohol is a diuretic. Drink plenty of water during and after alcohol use to ward off dehydration, headaches, and aches.”

The post March 1st and the big first drink appeared first on FebFast.

Habit is a peculiar beast: she’s not easily tamed, and she’s not afraid of a dare. My body might be learning that I don’t need alcohol to feel good, but my brain is following a more familiar script.

As I attempt to order a lime and soda in a bar with friends one night, I’m shocked to hear the words ‘vodka, lime, and soda’ come out of my mouth, nearly sabotaging my booze ban just weeks after it’s started. When I correct myself, the barman asks why I’m not drinking.

‘A social experiment,’ I reply.

He looks at me quizzically. ‘Why on earth would you want to do that?’

Five minutes later, he approaches our table, sets down a shot glass, and says, ‘We’ve just got this new vodka in. It’s beautiful, really smooth, goes perfectly with lime and soda. I’ll just leave that with you.’ Smirking, he walks off, leaving us staring in bemusement at this strange offering.

Twenty years on the piss and all I had to do to get free alcohol was renounce drinking?

He returns ten minutes later, taking the untouched vodka shot with him. ‘Well done — you’ve passed the challenge.’

I didn’t realise I was being tested.

It’s the first of many occasions where my decision not to drink is taken as an open invitation to try to knock me off the wagon. I’d like to think that my personality hasn’t been muted because I’m not drinking booze, and that I can still crack a joke and hold up my end of a conversation, but some people are intent on proving me wrong. ‘When can you drink again?’ they ask with panicked voices, as if my life is on hold and any endearing character traits have abandoned me.

Sometimes I wonder if people would be more relaxed if I were holding a beer bottle. Even if it were filled with water, I suspect that the illusion would be enough to ease their tension. I’m starting to realise that even if I don’t need alcohol to enjoy social situations, sometimes it makes other people more comfortable if I act as if I do.

The post High Sobriety: detox, week three appeared first on FebFast.

It actually feels like far more than that. If I were counting the amount of times I’ve thought about alcohol, well I’d need thousands of fingers and toes to work that out. As I write this, that number is constantly climbing.

When you really want a drink, you become acutely aware of how many times you’re offered a drink. How many opportunities there are to have a drink. Every single day.

For example, take last Friday…

- 8am flight from Perth to Adelaide. Get chatting to fly-in-fly-out miners who offer me a beer.

- Arrive Adelaide airport. Half an hour wait to be picked up. Three comedians I’m with all have a beer.

- Arrive at hotel. Offered free cocktail.

- Go to hotel bar to wait for room to be ready. It’s a bar, and it’s open.

- Visit my Adelaide Fringe venue to help with setup. Offered wine.

- Perform a short spot at a children’s show. Offered a pint.

- Go through a quick dress rehearsal. Sound tech has a small esky, and offers me a beer.

- Perform at early afternoon showcase gig. Offered a jug.

- Meet a journalist for an interview. Offered anything from the menu.

- Perform at the Fringe Showcase Stage on Rundle Mall. Offered cask wine by homeless person. Then a brown paper bag, by a man in business suit. Then sherry by a middle aged lady. This is all in a very busy public mall.

- Late afternoon showcase gig. Offered another jug. I doubt normal people are offered this much alcohol. I must look like an alcoholic, or really thirsty, or maybe everyone just remembers me from last year’s Adelaide Fringe, and the amount I drank.

- Host a gallery tour. Prior to the tour, offered a hit from a hip flask by an artist. Afterwards, a group of friends from the tour offer me a cider.

- Venue manager supplies me two drink tokens. I attempt to purchase a soft drink, but am immediately told that’s an immense waste. Guiltily, I hand over the drink tickets to a fellow performer and buy a soft drink.

- Another gallery tour. No drink offers this time. However everyone on the tour is holding a drink.

- I continue flyering for my late night show. In a penguin suit. It is nearly 40 degrees. More people offer to buy me a drink, than a ticket to my show.

- The show is a sellout, due to solid presales. A group of four women come in late, each holding a half-full bottle of wine. At different points throughout the show, each offers to fill my cup of water with wine. And to sleep with me, and also suggests that they might be my mother. It was weird.

- Several people tell me that they’ve enjoyed the show. Half of them offer me a drink.

- Backstage at a late night showcase is an esky full of beer, cider and mixers.

- A final late night show in a bar. Offered six drinks. I accept the final offer, and opt for a fire engine. That’s lemonade and red cordial. Simple, but still my favourite mocktail. The guy buys the drink, hands it to me and says, ‘I thought you’d be shit, but you weren’t shit. I won’t see your show. But you weren’t shit.’

- Back at the hotel, I’m offered another complementary cocktail.

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Sponsor me here: https://febfast2013.everydayhero.com/au/xavier-toby

Come see me at the Adelaide Fringe, until March 1: http://bit.ly/Xpas28

Or the Melb Comedy Fest, March 27 until April 9: http://bit.ly/15qOhND

The post Hey mate, would you like a drink? appeared first on FebFast.

Cardio Tennis is a fun, social, group tennis-fitness program for people of all ages and abilities. It’s more about getting a great, high-energy workout than pure tennis technique.

Constant movement is the focus as a qualified deliverer guides you through a series of fun and heart-pumping drills that cater for all abilities and fitness levels.

Participants wear heart rate monitors, exercise to music, use low-compression balls and a variety of equipment, including agility ladders. At the end of your session, you can check your stats on the heart-rate monitor to find out just how hard you worked.

This February, Cardio Tennis offering all febfasters a free trial at your closest venue. Head over to the Cardio Tennis Australia website and claim your free trial using the FEBFAST unique code. Don’t forget to locate your closest workout while you are there.

Once you have tried Cardio Tennis you can opt to be sent details about taking part in the Cardio Tennis fitness challenge also set to start in February.

The fitness challenge is designed to get you out on court over a six to eight week period burning calories and having fun, which we think is a great way to capitalize on the great work you’re already doing in February by giving up alcohol.

It is time to trade the beer for a backhand, hit winners down the line instead of drinking wine and feel the benefits of the Cardio calorie burn, without the hangover.

Forget drinking, Cardio Tennis triples your fitness fun.

The post Get fit while febfasting this summer appeared first on FebFast.

I was told, ‘Here is liquid gold. Drink your fill, and be engulfed by its wonder here and now, for you cannot consume any outside of this magical place.’

Or that’s what I heard. My need for alcohol is actually starting to affect my powers of perception, and I now seem to be existing in a reality that is part medieval England, part Narnia. Alternatively, I might be seeing things as they are, and Perth is a few years behind the rest of Australia.

It wasn’t just any brewery, either. It was the Little Creatures in Fremantle.

On the very premises they make beer from hops grown in fields of clouds, yeast cultivated in the very bosom of Mother Nature, with special ingredients including angel’s wings and unicorn tears. All cooked in a fire started before time by the last dragon.

Which might not be true, but is exactly how it felt because I couldn’t have any.

Instead I had a four shot coffee. Four shots, that’s what I need now just to get a buzz. Whoever says that I’ve just replaced one addiction with another is spot on correct, but all the coffee is also helping with the weight loss.

Fat people might be funny, but it’s much harder getting a female audience member interested in you after the show if you’re the size of a house, and sweat like an elephant-sized stick of butter in a sauna.

So I made it through the gig, and it went fairly well. Better than the other night, but still not amazing. The cravings for booze were still rampant, as my hands were shaking and the nerves were overpowering whenever I wasn’t onstage. Maybe also something to do with all that coffee.

Or maybe we need a reason to stay off coffee? ‘Ban the bean for March’? It’s my idea, but feel free to steal it because I think it’s rubbish.

A quick thanks to the lovely couple who came up to me after the show and said, ‘Great work tonight. We’ve been reading your blogs. We’re struggling too but we’ll get through, and reckon you will as well.’

Which reminded me exactly why big gestures like Febfast are important.

I don’t have a problem exercising, or eating well most of the time. So when friends go on about diet clubs, and Zumba and that morning commando one where you pay some ex-army guy to scream at you until you spew, I don’t need any of that.

I’d never tell this to my friend’s faces, but I see it as a weakness. If you’re not mentally strong enough to do it on your own, how is wasting money to be part of a group going to help? What happens when the group winds up, and you go back to your life and bad habits?

You want to lose weight? Eat less, exercise more. Done. However, the same could be said to me. ‘You want to stop drinking? So just stop drinking.’

Which is why I finally get it. Alcohol isn’t something I could give up on my own. It’s just so much easier to drink. Especially when it’s free, when it’s part of your payment for a night’s work, when everyone else is doing it, when it makes you feel good and when you depend on it.

For me, FebFast is the big reason to not drink that rules out all those smaller reasons. And you, the people reading this, you’re my support group. Which is why it meant an incredible amount when that lovely couple came up to me.

I know my problems are pretty pedestrian, but I’m struggling and even just a few words really helped.

Okay, so enough of that emo shit. Point is, I hope FebFast is the big first step I take along with the group. To get over that first hump and then hopefully, I’ll have the strength to get on with it myself. Or not, and I get into much harder drugs and realise what a small problem alcohol really was.

On a side note, last night I had my second full-length one-hour show without alcohol. Seven tickets away from a sell-out and it was very nearly the best show I’ve ever done. That’s not just my opinion either, the audience agreed as ticket sales for the rest of my Perth Fringe World and Adelaide Fringe runs are looking good.

So will I make it through February without drinking? Today I feel pretty confident, but that changes on a daily basis. Also, the fact that I’m already talking like I’ve achieved something makes me believe I deserve a drink to celebrate, and we’re not even two weeks into February.

Always looking for an excuse to drink, and I find them everywhere…

Try the half-arsed FebFast if you want: http://febfast.org.au/

Sponsor me here. If I don’t make it, you get your money back: https://febfast2013.everydayhero.com/au/xavier-toby

More articles and gig details here: www.xaviertoby.com

The post Beer Made From Angel’s Wings and Unicorn Tears appeared first on FebFast.