THE CLASH OF SWORDS---THE KLINKLE OF ARMOR

I like to get roaring drunk at home on Thursday nights to save money. That way, when Friday night barhopping I a go, I spend less money because I am congested and hung over. While this system is more or less foolproof, it can get a little dull. You can only drink away so many Thursdays on Coors Light before a little voice inside says: Is this really what you want to be doing? Thankfully, a louder, angrier voice is quick to answer: Might as well, I guess, whatever. Shut up.

Sometimes boredom is the least of your fears. The weather can also play a huge role in how and if one goes about it. In the summer, it’s hardly fitting on a beautiful cool evening to sit in the kitchen drinking whiskey---you’ve got to mix it with something fruity, like Pear Juice, and open a window. Similarly, in the winter, you can’t sit in the living room drinking Coronas---unless it’s with hot chocolate or something.

It’s a constant battle. You should try it sometime. I give you a month, two months tops, before you just can’t do it for whatever reason: relatives in town, a concert, decency, etc. I, however, am proud to say that I have been pickled every Thursday and terribly hung over every Friday for the last 2 and 1/3 years. And that’s because of one thing and one thing only: having no friends. But last night all the blood, sweat and tears that have made the last 2 and 1/3 years of my life exceptionally blurry went down the drain, sort of.

I pride myself on my well-stocked liquor cabinet/cardboard box. Whiskey, whisky, rye whisky, Canadian whiskey and Rum are never in short supply. Before The Unhinging, I made a light din’. The usual: a piece of toast and box of Junior Mints---to settle the stomach for the upcoming assault. But I opened the liquor box to discover only Augusto Bitters, Crème de Menthe and 6 different kinds of sweet and dry vermouth. I had forgotten. Forgotten that I had spent all my booze on the pajama and tickle party I had hosted two nights previous---it had been a huge sucess, and the cheese platter was out of this world. But I digress. Since it was after 9 the liquor store was closed. And I haven’t been back to the Treble since one of the regular bums said he’s going to stick a piece of glass in my side if he ever sees me outside after 7:30. And since my "Out after 7:30 disguise"---which consists of 2 Mexican flags and dew rag---was at the cleaners. I was a prisoner in my own apartment. I was screwed. Or was I?

As it turns out I was. You just can’t get drunk on bitters shots and dry vermouth chasers. Or Triple Sec and Kahula cocktails. Or, surprisingly, injections of Isopropyl Alcohol. Luckily, however, you can still feel remarkably terrible the next morning even without a drunkening! One of the great mysteries of the human body, I guess.

So, tonight while barstool hopping I’ll have a Diet Coke in one hand and a soy protein bar in the other---the picture of health.