1장
Sobriety: The Unexpected Joy Hidden in Plain Sight
Catherine Gray's journey from alcohol addiction to vibrant sobriety has become a cultural touchstone in our increasingly health-conscious world. As drinking rates decline among millennials and "sober curious" becomes a mainstream movement, her memoir arrives at a perfect cultural moment. Celebrities from Bradley Cooper to Naomi Campbell have embraced sobriety, finding greater creativity, energy, and authenticity without alcohol. Yet Gray's book stands out for its raw honesty and surprising revelation: sobriety isn't just about avoiding hangovers-it's about discovering a richer, more joyful existence that alcohol actually obscured. What began as a personal salvation has become a manifesto for a growing movement that challenges our culture's fundamental relationship with alcohol. As Gray writes, this isn't a story about deprivation but about unexpected liberation.
2장
The Nightcrawling Netherworld: Rock Bottom Has a Basement
Catherine's drinking journey began like many others-at age twelve, alcohol felt like trading chainmail for silk, offering blessed relief from social anxiety. By her twenties, she'd landed her dream job in London's media world, with nightly free parties in Soho's underground clubs. She watched Amy Winehouse perform while barely standing, blagged into VIP rooms, drank with celebrities, and collected enviable stories. From the outside, it looked glamorous-the dream everyone wanted.
But the glamour masked a growing darkness. Morning drinking became routine. Calling in sick became strategic-saving sick days for paralyzing hangovers when she physically couldn't move from bed. Despite manager warnings, she kept getting promoted and winning awards, creating a dangerous illusion that everything was fine. The words "can I have a word with you?" would send her into terror spirals.
At parties, her real friends would leave at sensible times while she was just warming up. She'd groom what she called a "Boozy Best Friend" (BBF) for the night-forming fake bonds accelerated by wine. They'd stumble around dancefloors until dawn, sharing relationship woes and childhood traumas normally reserved for years-long friendships. The next sober encounter would be excruciatingly awkward. These "fonds" (fake bonds) would inevitably collapse in the harsh light of sobriety.
Her drinking progressed from producing cute, funny stories to scary ones she kept secret. Like a wet gremlin fed after midnight, it had grown teeth and claws. Her friends turned her name into a verb for getting obliterated-"I got Cathed last night." Each morning she'd lay down cast-iron rules not to drink that night, only to dismantle them by 3pm.
The physical addiction crept in gradually. The alcohol stopped giving her warmth or buzz and became as essential as oxygen. When not drinking, she felt like she was suffocating. Her hands developed tremors she'd try to explain away as "low blood sugar" or "essential tremor." She'd arrive at restaurants an hour early to get the "shake-stopper" inside her. Everyday tasks became terrifying-signing her name, entering PIN codes, handing tickets to conductors. She developed elaborate strategies-holding glasses with two hands, ordering burgers she could eat without forks, requesting straws.
Her rock bottom wasn't one dramatic moment but a series of "convincers"-pitch-black moments that fueled her desire to get sober. Like waking in a police cell after telling an officer to "eff off." Or hiding bottles in wardrobes, stealing her flatmate's alcohol, topping bottles with water. Or contemplating suicide in a hot bath with a knife, before calling her recovering alcoholic father in desperation: "I think I'm an alcoholic." His simple response: "I know."
After her final seven-day bender in Venice-which ended with her drinking mouthwash mixed with peppermint tea-she had her epiphany: she didn't want to die. She finally understood that continuing to drink would eventually kill her. The next day, she didn't drink. She realized she hadn't hit absolute rock bottom-there were inkier depths she never wanted to explore.
3장
Why Moderation Is a Mirage for Many
Even at just a six on the addiction spectrum, Catherine found moderation impossible. Psychotherapist Hilda Burke explains why: "Alcohol is a disinhibitor" that drowns out our resolve after just a couple drinks. Plus, many people's identities become bound up with alcohol-they see themselves as "bubbly, wild or spontaneous" and fear losing those likeable qualities.
For Catherine, being the "party girl" was core to her identity. She discovered that zero drinks were actually easier than the elusive one or two. As neuroscientist Alex Korb says, "If you're failing to moderate, then abstinence is the best option."
The science explains why: with repetition, the brain forms a "drinking is the solution" neural pathway. The more you drink to soothe anxiety, the more this gets encoded into the habit center of your brain. Eventually, it becomes a compulsion rather than pleasure. When you don't follow this habitual pathway, your brain gets stressed about not drinking, creating a catch-22.
Dopamine isn't actually the pleasure neurotransmitter but rather the driver of "wanting." Addicts want alcohol even when they no longer like it-they're not having fun anymore. Over time, only alcohol triggers major dopamine release in the brain regions responsible for motivation, while other goals like work, self-care and relationships fade into insignificance.
Imagine your brain as a ship. The pre-frontal cortex (PFC) is "the bridge," crucial for self-awareness, judgment and logic. The striatum is the "Addictive Engine" responsible for pursuing rewards, fueled by dopamine. In healthy brains, the Bridge overrules the Addictive Engine when necessary. With regular drinking, the pathways between the nucleus accumbens and movement control areas strengthen, while connections from the PFC weaken-meaning the Bridge stops steering the ship.
Neural pathways form like hiking trails-the more they're used, the wider and clearer they become. Creating a new sober pathway is initially arduous, like forging a path through dense forest. This explains why the first month sober is hardest, and why sobriety gets easier with time. With abstinence, "neuroplasticity returns," says neuroscientist Marc Lewis. Your brain literally restructures, but this takes time, which is why few achieve sobriety on the first try.
Research published in PLOS ONE shows that the reduction in grey matter volume in specific regions of the pre-frontal cortex reverses with abstinence. Surprisingly, grey matter volume not only returns to normal baseline levels within six months to a year of sobriety, but continues increasing beyond normal levels. Lewis suggests the brain's "bridge" may become "more elaborate, sophisticated, flexible, or resilient" due to the "sustained and seasoned cognitive effort" that maintaining sobriety requires.
4장
Thirty Tools for the First Thirty Days
The first few days of sobriety hit like an almighty slap-like waking up in a trashed hotel room that happens to be your life. The urge to escape back into unconsciousness is almost irresistible, but instead you must confront the wreckage. Recovery brings back all your emotions, both good and bad, causing wild swings between euphoria and wretchedness. Without alcohol armor, the world feels brighter, louder, and scarier than a carful of hostile clowns.
Catherine developed small but effective tactics, like her twilight hair-washing ritual-putting her hair in a towel turban and changing into PJs created a 20-minute barrier between her and leaving the house for wine. She used the upside-down-triangle model, making sobriety the tip that everything else depended on. She had to be willing to do anything rather than drink-even running out of restaurants in tears when panic struck.
She gave herself pep talks to combat self-loathing. Addiction isn't self-indulgence; it's self-harm-a very slow suicide. She had to start believing she deserved better than drinking. She cleaned her house obsessively-movement helps defeat cravings. She counted days with an app called "I'm Done Drinking" that tracked days sober, drinks avoided, money saved, and calories not consumed.
She took responsibility for her own happiness, realizing that unless something catastrophic happens, we choose whether to be happy or unhappy each day. She made long-overdue medical appointments, used "split-screening" to compare sober experiences with how they would've gone while drinking, and rewarded herself with treats-books, yoga classes, horseback riding, massages-using half the money she'd saved from not drinking.
Most importantly, she learned that a thought cannot make her drink. No matter how much "I want a drink" echoed in her head, only the physical act of picking up a drink could lead to drinking. She gained mastery over these thoughts through mindfulness meditation.
The first 30 days were savage and exquisite-simultaneously beautiful and brutal. "Brutiful," as Glennon Doyle Melton would say. Early sobriety filled her toolbox with healthier alternatives-swimming, nutritious food, early nights, fascinating books, podcasts, bubble baths, rubbing dogs' bellies, sober friends, milestone treats, counseling, music-learning to turn to these things for comfort instead of wine.
She also discovered Addictive Voice Recognition Therapy (AVRT), developed by Jack Trimpey in 1986, with a 65% success rate. This approach involves separating the tyrannical voice urging you to drink from yourself. Catherine named her voice "Voldemort"-nefarious yet charming, silken but pure evil. She started arguing with him, telling him to jog on, shutting down his whisperings with logic. Sometimes she'd laugh at his ridiculous suggestions (like vodka for toothache), sometimes she'd calmly deconstruct his case, but mostly she'd get angry. The key is making a firm decision not to drink rather than engaging in debate.
5장
From Nightlife to Daylight: Discovering Nature's High
Catherine's first sober party was excruciating. While her friend Susan became the life of the party after six vodka tonics, she remained superglued to her seat, refusing to dance despite encouragement. She felt like a buzzkill with "flight" adrenaline coursing through her-simultaneously frozen and electrified with anxiety. She hid in toilets, escaped to the garden, and silently cried on the night bus home, mourning the death of Party Girl.
The next day brought clarity-she'd survived her first sober party in 20 years. Her sober friends reminded her that she's not the center of everyone else's night, and Susan later admitted she couldn't remember the party's end and didn't recover until Tuesday.
She realized she was never actually a night owl who loved clubs-the alcohol was the attraction, not the nightlife. Without drinking, daytime became vibrant again. She discovered "Day Fun Girl"-enjoying cream teas, obstacle courses, beach walks and vintage shopping while her former drinking buddies slept their weekends away. RIP Party Girl-she now does pirouettes on her grave.
After staying too long at that first sober party, her sober tribe advised her to leave parties when she wants to-staying too long makes you feel like a "Debbie Downer" and increases drinking temptation. Without alcohol's artificial stamina, parties become louder, brighter, more exhausting. She started using the "trapdoor technique"-an Irish term for leaving without saying goodbye to avoid the pressure to stay longer.
When she sobered up, she discovered her party girl persona was just an outer shell. Inside was a socially awkward, bookish introvert she hadn't seen since she was 12. Instead of seeking parties, this new self wanted to write, curl up with a dog, have one-on-one interactions, and go to bed early. Her friends struggled to reconcile this shift. Research shows introverts' brain blood flow focuses on internal processes while extroverts' brains respond to external stimuli. When drinking, she couldn't spend more than a couple nights alone-not because of FOMO but FOMOOW (Fear of Missing Out On Wine). She'd used alcohol as a confidence cheat code, skipping the natural development of social skills.
Her happy place transformed from dark nightclubs to nature's splendor. What she once mistook as a desire to dance was really just wanting to drink. Now she finds joy in running through forests, watching fog lift from mountain valleys, and strolling beaches at sunrise. Nature has been crucial to her recovery, allowing her to finally see beauty she was blind to during her narcissistic hangovers. This pull toward green spaces isn't coincidental-studies show people heal faster from trauma when exposed to nature rather than urban environments. Even hospital patients recover quicker with a window view of trees instead of brick walls.
She vividly remembers "seeing" nature again three months sober in Northern Ireland's Glenariff waterfall park-truly appreciating its magnificence without rushing to get to a pub. As Eminem said about his own recovery, "I fucking love leaves now, man. I feel like I've been neglecting leaves for a long time."
6장
The Booze-Free Body: Unexpected Physical Transformations
Turns out Catherine's body hated her drinking with a passion. She hadn't felt physically "normal" in years-always feeling middling-to-terrible. We're not meant to put alcohol in our bodies; it's like putting diesel into a petrol engine. Traditional thinking says hangovers last one day, but addiction psychiatrist Dr. Julia Lewis confirms they actually last 72 hours. When she quit, she felt spec-flipping-tacular, springing out of bed at 6am. Friends were astonished by how much better she looked.
For years, she'd lie with frozen peas on her bloodshot, burning eyes before work. She recalls looking in the mirror and seeing a sinister stranger-as if her soul had been vacuumed out. Her eyes were among the first things to come back in sobriety. They literally got bigger, the whites became white again, and they regained their smile.
In her last drinking year, her cheeks and chest would turn scarlet and blotchy after just two drinks-the "alcoholic flush" caused by swelling blood vessels. The starburst pattern of tiny inflamed vessels looked like fireworks on her cheeks. While traces remain, they've faded considerably in sobriety.
Though she never had teenage acne, heavy drinking in her mid-20s triggered terrible cystic acne-marble-sized lumps deep within her face. The liver is crucial for clear skin, and when overloaded with toxins, it pushes them out through the skin. Since quitting in 2013, she hasn't had a single cyst.
Her naturally round face had become bloated and puffy from drinking-a friend once drunkenly told her she looked like "a really cute hamster." Now it's less doughy, with more defined jaw and re-emerged cheekbones. The spare tire she acquired in her mid-20s naturally disappeared when she quit drinking. Not surprising when a pint of cider equals a doughnut in calories. Given that a bottle of wine equals two chocolate bars, she was effectively consuming 14-16 bars weekly.
Though naturally lazy, the difference in her energy levels between drinking and sobriety is dramatic. She remembers hungover days when making her bed seemed as challenging as climbing K2. Now, such chores happen automatically without requiring extraordinary willpower.
She used to bite her nails and savage the surrounding skin until she had to hide them under plasters or fake nails-an unconscious form of self-harm reflecting her wounded mind. Now her nails are clean, a respectable length, and well-maintained. Her outsides are beginning to match her insides.
After two weeks of sobriety-induced insomnia, she began experiencing luxurious deep slumber she hadn't known for years. Alcohol prevents sufficient REM sleep-when our brain learns, makes connections and retains memories. Now, she simply puts her head on the pillow and wakes refreshed eight hours later, rather than constantly stirring dehydrated at 4am with anxiety-induced heart palpitations. Sleep has become a pleasure rather than something she stalls.
7장
Socializing Sober: Navigating a Drink-Obsessed Culture
Building tolerance to boozy situations requires a gradual approach-like strengthening a muscle slowly to avoid injury. Catherine never completely avoided social drinking events, but she would leave early when feeling vulnerable. The key isn't about constantly testing yourself in bars, but rather dismantling romanticized fantasies about alcohol with hard reality.
At seven months sober, she requested removal of in-room liquor before a Mexico trip, explaining to a friend that having alcohol in her room was like having "a big fat spider in a cage" watching her sleep-technically safe but deeply unsettling. By eight months, she stopped obsessively tracking others' drinking habits (previously she was "like a drinking detective"). She found it helpful to view parties anthropologically, observing drinkers like David Attenborough studying wildlife, while imagining their future hangovers.
The almost-inevitable "why don't you drink?" question is probably the scariest part of sober socializing. Being asked why you're not drinking feels like being forced to turn yourself inside out, exposing your vulnerabilities to everyone. Saying "yes" to a drink is infinitely easier than saying "no" and facing the interrogation that follows. This is why many newly-sober people invent excuses about antibiotics, fitness regimes, or driving.
Catherine went through several stages of explaining her sobriety. First was the "I'm training for a triathlon!" excuse, which was actually true (though she came 144th out of 160 competitors). She clung to this health reason even after the event, but it was too easily dismissed when others persuaded her to drink "just this once." This approach kept her bouncing on and off the wagon.
For her, honesty was essential-hiding behind health reasons didn't work. She even went through a phase of pretending to drink, asking for elderflower presse in wine glasses to resemble spritzers, or claiming her cola contained vodka. At one party, she was the only person who knew she wasn't drinking. But when someone handed her an actual white wine spritzer during a round, she realized pretending would inevitably lead back to real drinking.
When she stopped hiding behind the "triathlon!" excuse and showed vulnerability instead, people responded much better. The "my body is a temple" virtuousness turns people off-they try to topple your smugness and push drinks on you. But "I was a nightmare and now I'm trying not to be" is much more relatable. Vulnerability is genuinely attractive and often encourages others to share their own struggles too.
After some painfully awkward in-person conversations about her sobriety, she developed a strategy: texting or emailing people before seeing them. Something like: "Looking forward to seeing your face. Heads-up: I don't drink anymore because I realized I'd grown hopelessly addicted. I'm very happy being sober, so now there's more for you, woo, let's have fun tomorrow!" This approach worked brilliantly-it gave people time to process the information and arrange their reaction, avoiding uncomfortable real-time conversations.
Sobriety functions like a dickhead detector, identifying people who can't respect your choices. When someone is that bothered by your sobriety, it reveals their own troubled relationship with alcohol. It's their problem, not yours.
Sober socializing is like switching to HDTV-initially too clear, too real, too unfiltered. Without alcohol's social Polyfilla to smooth over awkward silences or failed jokes, everything feels pin-sharp. But this clarity eventually becomes normal, and you wouldn't return to the old blurry picture. Sobriety creates more genuine friendships-she can now look friends in the eye without flinching, actually hear what they're saying instead of obsessing over wine, and form deeper connections.
8장
Unplugging from the Alcohol Matrix
There's a jaw-dropping scene in The Matrix showing an endless field of people plugged into a fake reality, which perfectly captures how it feels to unplug from our alcohol-centric society. It takes about a year to fully disconnect, but once you do, looking back at heavy drinkers is shocking-"They've been duped. That's not real life at all." As a sober person, you're in the minority, and staying sober can be challenging because we naturally want to run with the herd rather than be different.
Everywhere Catherine looks, she sees encouragement to drink. Pub signs promise "Booze, food, fun" while pointing to "Real life" outside with a sad face. Even Starbucks now sells wine. Television shows are worse-Alicia Florrick in The Good Wife drinks enormous goblets of red wine nightly yet performs brilliantly in court. Olivia Pope's wine habit in Scandal is portrayed as attractive and humanizing. Carrie Mathison in Homeland apparently manages her bipolar disorder with white wine. Male characters like Tyrion Lannister and Don Draper drink heavily with minimal consequences.
These TV characters never lose jobs, get dumped, lose custody of children or face real consequences from their drinking. They represent an El Dorado viewers desperately seek: consequence-free constant wine. If these shows portrayed habitual cocaine or MDMA use this way, it would never be accepted. Alcohol is the only addictive drug still rampantly glamorized.
Society has a massive blind spot about alcohol's addictive nature. A French campaign created a fake Instagram account of a chic model named Louise Delage who gained 60,000 followers in two months. Nobody noticed she had alcohol in every single photo. We're not surprised when social smokers progress to morning smoking, or when occasional heroin users become daily users. Yet talking about alcohol as a villain is socially taboo. Society pushes this addictive substance on us, then acts shocked when people become addicted.
British scientists controversially announced in 2009 that alcohol is more dangerous than crack or heroin, and almost three times as deadly as cocaine or tobacco. On a harm scale of 100, alcohol scored 72, while heroin was 55, crack 54, crystal meth 33, cocaine 27, and tobacco 26. Professor David Nutt, the government's chief drug advisor, was forced to resign after publishing these findings. Cigarettes are socially abhorred and heavily restricted despite being only a third as dangerous as alcohol. Parents who would never give children cigarettes happily let them sip wine.
The government's reluctance to address this stems from profit-alcohol taxation in England brings in 10.4 billion while costing only 3.9 billion in healthcare, policing and welfare. Heavy drinkers make the country 6.5 billion in profit.
The media buries uncomfortable alcohol truths while amplifying dubious benefits. When the WHO announced alcohol as the "international number one killer" contributing to 60 diseases and causing 24 deaths daily in the UK (8 women), few papers covered it. Hard-drinking journalists avoid these stories, while readers prefer enabling headlines like "A glass of red wine equals an hour at the gym!" The press exaggerates minimal benefits like resveratrol (better obtained from blueberries or dark chocolate) and polyphenols (found in tea, apples and walnuts) while ignoring alcohol's deadly drawbacks.
The alcohol propaganda machine is finally cracking. In 2016, the UK Chief Medical Officer stated "There is no level of regular drinking that can be considered completely safe," while the WHO classified alcohol as a Group One carcinogen alongside tobacco and asbestos. We now know alcohol directly causes eight cancers and shortens lifespan by 10-12 years. Even light drinking (1.5 drinks daily) accounts for 26-35% of alcohol-attributable cancer deaths.
9장
Boozehounds Debunked: Shattering Stereotypes
Catherine challenges stereotypes about heavy drinkers, noting that recovery meetings are filled with lawyers, doctors, entrepreneurs and high-achievers. Contrary to the cliche of the "no-hoper drinking super-strength lager on a park bench," big drinkers tend to be big earners-those making 40,000+ are twice as likely to binge drink than lower-income individuals, and doctors are twice as likely to be alcoholics compared to the general public.
Studies show people with higher IQs drink more, and female university graduates are twice as likely to drink to "hazardous" levels compared to non-graduates. Successful rock stars live fast and die young-they're almost twice as likely to die prematurely, with a quarter perishing from alcohol or drug-related problems.
Catherine's addiction counselor told her that heavy drinkers are remarkably resilient, more like athletes than layabouts. Heavy drinking requires determination-struggling through work hungover daily takes grit. When this athlete-esque determination is redirected toward healthy pursuits, ex-drinkers can experience amazing life transformations.
She argues it's actually "more of a gangster move" to break from the pack in a drink-pushing world. She compares sober people to the rare lemming in the 90s computer game that walks away from the cliff rather than following the crowd to their doom.
In Catherine's experience, sober people are the least judgmental people ever. She shares a saying from the sober community: "If you've shagged a zebra, I've probably shagged two." Ex-drinkers don't judge current drinkers because they've been there themselves and have likely done worse.
The strongest predictor of alcohol addiction is childhood trauma. A Kaiser Permanente study of 17,000 Americans found that adverse childhood experiences make people seven times more likely to develop alcohol addiction. Dr. Julia Lewis explains alcohol blocks traumatic memories through a brain mechanism, suggesting drinking is often less about pleasure and more about pain relief.
Traditional black-and-white thinking about addiction has evolved. Dr. Julia Lewis explains everyone has their own "tipping point" along the spectrum where dependence suddenly accelerates. Dr. Marc Lewis agrees there is no dichotomy or "line in the sand"-addiction exists on a continuum.
Some drinkers assume sober people "had to quit" rather than chose to. But as the author points out, every adult with ID has access to alcohol-liver wards are full of people who continue drinking despite fatal warnings. Sobriety is an active choice made daily. Even with alcohol in her home and living alone as a freelancer, the author chooses not to drink, making this her greatest achievement.
10장
The Unexpected Joy: A Life Beyond Wildest Dreams
In AA, you hear about recovery bringing "a life beyond your wildest dreams" (LBMWD). For Catherine, this proved true. Her humble early sobriety dreams of having her own flat and steady job were far surpassed by what actually unfolded. Her LBMWD happened gradually-paying bills, doing work, repairing friendships. A year into sobriety, she moved to Bruges after a mini-break there, finding it felt like living in a gorgeous Gothic fairy tale.
Sobriety doesn't guarantee a perfect life-people still die, partners still cheat, unfair things still happen. When drinking, she secretly believed she deserved any misfortune, but sober, she naively expected better treatment in return for her improved behavior. Within months of losing her job, her boyfriend of nearly a year cheated on her after she'd half-moved in with him.
She realized emotional pain is like a tunnel you must traverse. The drinking tunnel has trapdoors where you can temporarily escape into oblivion, but when you return, the tunnel has grown longer and more frightening. Use these trapdoors too often, and the light at the end disappears completely. The sober tunnel is straightforward-dark and tough, but finite with no escape hatches. You must feel everything, but the light remains visible, and you know you'll reach the end by simply continuing forward.
Getting sober in 2013 felt like a condemned choice, but she was gobsmacked to discover it made her a million times happier-like trading a wizened plant for a greenhouse of sunflowers. She wrote this book to share that transformation. Even if you're not severely addicted, trying sobriety can reveal unexpected benefits. The question isn't "Am I an alcoholic?" but "Would my life be better sober?"
Sobriety is 95% exquisite despite the 5% savage moments, especially in early months. The rewards are immense: freedom from the mental "should I drink?" spin cycle, discovering moderation is actually a mirage (no booze is easier than a little), realizing we give alcohol too much credit for fun experiences, understanding drinking is just an unnecessary third limb, and knowing that sober eventually becomes your effortless new normal.
Last night she dreamt she was in Brixton police station. When drinking, she always woke up into the nightmare. Now, she wakes up into the dream. In early sobriety, she made an unrealistic goals list that her mom wisely edited down to just "stay sober" and "get a new wardrobe." She knew sobriety would make everything else fall into place. Now she's written this book, cares for her housemate's dog, lives in a beautiful home with friends she loves, owns furniture, has zero debt, enjoys solid work relationships and close family bonds. She's happier than she ever was while drinking. She's overwriting her shame memory map with wholesome experiences.
Her father died a week before finishing the book, from lung cancer at 65. When her brother and she went to say goodbye in the Philippines, they spent their final night playing pool, drinking lemonade, and talking about Dad-instead of her old pattern of getting wasted and hungover for her last day with him. Dad was complicated-fiercely intelligent, intimidating and sarcastic, yet also an open-minded hippy and proud of his 23 years of sobriety. In his final days, his walls fell away as he held their hands, cried, and mouthed that he loved them.
One of her favorite memories is when she was 24 and Dad, ten years sober, danced around the living room to show her you could dance without alcohol. "If I can, you can," he said. He was right-it is better over here, and you absolutely can dance sober.
