It would take 13 shots of Tequila to kill me

That actually doesn’t seem like very much to me…Although I guess they’re talking about a “three hour drinking period.” And we did mostly do half-shots, back in the Bumper Pool Basement. So okay, maybe.

It would take 10 Dirty Martinis to kill me

But only five to make me wish I was dead.

(Bad Idea always used to quote his father: “Martinis are like women’s breasts. One’s not enough, three is too many, two is just right.” Not that Bad Idea–or I–ever stuck with two martinis, though….We may both be slightly more hedonistic than Bad Idea’s dad. I always used to quote back Dorothy Parker’s ode to martinis:

“I like to have a Martini,
two at the very most.
Three and I’m under the table,
four and I’m under my host.”

Yes, Bad Idea and I drinking together was, to the casual observer, a very repetitive, boring event. I do miss it.)

And, OMG, look what I just found! They have that on martini glasses! Oh, yeah, that is SO my post-baby present to myself…)

Yeah, so, this was going to be a whiny post about how, dammit, I am OVER this whole no-local-friends thing, and I miss my friends, dammit, and I’m not sure how I can be lonely and solitary all day and STILL not be getting this goddamn chapter done. But whatever. Y’all know all that. Instead, I’ll leave you with this little badge of honor:

97%ALCOHOLIC

ETA: (Hmmm…I wonder why the graphic for that didn’t show up? It looked better with the graphic. Without, it just looks like a cry for help.)

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