Tuna-
I’ve never done a quick hitter before, but I guess I’m just supposed to write a short blurb about some things that are the best. Without any further adieu:
1.) Ritz crackers. They beat the shit out of Town House crackers. Don’t even bring Saltines into the equation– I’m not poor.
2.) 77 degree temperatures. This is the optimal temperature for dressing casually, not sweating through your clothing, but still being able to enjoy the outdoors. I also happen to enjoy palindromes.
3.) Glass bottle Coca-Colas from Mexico. They use real sugar, taste better, and look classy as a motherfucker. I suggest buying one for someone you like– it’s a stand up move.
4.) Air conditioning. I was walking into my office from the 103 degree weather and took a moment to reflect on the awesomeness of the person who invented AC. You should too. It’s awesome.
Dangermike-
Getting Drunk
I’m not an alcoholic but some of my best memories are hazy, slurred, and half forgotten (or maybe never remembered). It’s a rite of passage for the youth of America to experiment with alcohol and in my opinion, getting your drink on with friends is a pretty precious ritual. I can remember the first time I tasted the devil’s nectar. It with one of my best friends of all time, Bean, and ended with me hiding in a bush when a handful of cops came to break the party up. I felt so alive from the alcohol that the prospect of life in prison made me piss myself in a handful of rhododendrons. Then there was Elon. Looking back on it, I wouldn’t do half of the things I did there without a little “liquid courage”. You might argue that all it got me were funny stories and a reason to make myself vomit on the walk back to my dorm. I think you’re wrong. Having fingersex with some chick on a frat house- dance floor? That’s magic and a memory I’ll barely have forever.
Anyways, I got to thinking about this because I went out this week and got obliterated. Not run of the mill obliterated. I was blackout, make a fool out of myself, walk around my block in my boxers waiting for the baked Ziti I ordered at 3AM in a vomit stained white teeshirt obliterated. I woke up the next day, thought I was dying, and it was the first sign that, “Toto, I don’t think we’re in Kansas anymore”. Gone are the days that I can drink a 5th of Jim Beam in an hour, pass out on someone’s lawn, have Bean stop people from pissing on me, wake up the next day, and do it all again. And not to sound like Lindsay Lohan, but I’m going to miss it.

I was born with the skills to be a great drinker. Just not a compliant liver.