McCall St. Brewer
Well-Known Member
Well, can't sleep tonight (work has me really stressed out), so I decided the only sane thing to do is to drink some bourbon. So, about 4 shots later (who's counting anyway) I'm finally feeling a little bit better.
That's getting me to thinking about the "never again" syndrome. You know what that is, right? When you drink too much of something or other and the next day you say "I'll never do that again." For me, I found that with one memorable exception "never again" never actually lasted more than about a week, two weeks tops.
You know, it was really nice back in my younger days when I weighed about 175 lbs. and it didnt' take much at all to get a nice buzz on. I'm getting there a little bit now, but man, those were the days. I remember coming home from parties where I tried to drain a half-barrel myself and getting into bed and it would feel like I had a waterbed. I didn't really have one-- it just felt like it.
The other thing I seem to remember is that when I was really younger (like, say still in high school) I would never get hung over from drinking. I would go to a party and drink like 27 beers or so, and the next morning it would see like I would actually feel better instead of worse.
A few years later, though, I was in for a nice surprise a few times when I overdid it a bit. I remember one night in college when my friend mixed up a pitcher of Orange Crush mixed with orange flavored vodka. That was some smooth stuff going down, as I recall, but the next day? Ugh! I was in the band and we had a football game that afternoon. I got up that morning and went to take a shower and ended up right back in bed. For the next 3 or 4 hours I would alternately sleep and sit up for a second to try to drink some juice or something. I finally made it to the game, but about 15 minutes late.
My only "never again" experience that really was Never Again was a few years later at a bar that had kamikaze shot night on thursday nights. My friends and I went in there one thursday night and someone decided to order a round of shots for us. We all drank one and then the next person decided they should buy a round, too. Only thing was, they bought 2 shots for each person. So, we drank them. Well, the next person decided to buy 3 for each person and so on... I think it got up to about 7 or 8 shots per round before we finally quit.
Later, we were sitting at the bar talking when I suddenly realized I could no longer talk. My friends were doing all the talking. I got bored and sunk a shot glass in a half empty glass of beer. A couple of Mexican guys came over and claimed it was their beer and that they were pissed. My friends apologized up and down and offered to buy them new beers and such, but they just wanted to argue. I was still bored (since I was unable to speak) so I went to the bathroom. I didn't feel so good while I was in there, so I left and went home. There I learned about the expression "worshipping the porcelain god." Man, was I sick. To this day I would not drink another kamikaze shot if you paid me.
The next day I found out that the Mexican guys waited outside in the alley for me to come out so they could beat me up for putting the shot glass in their beer. Fortunately I had already left and gone home to pay for my ignorant ways!
That's getting me to thinking about the "never again" syndrome. You know what that is, right? When you drink too much of something or other and the next day you say "I'll never do that again." For me, I found that with one memorable exception "never again" never actually lasted more than about a week, two weeks tops.
You know, it was really nice back in my younger days when I weighed about 175 lbs. and it didnt' take much at all to get a nice buzz on. I'm getting there a little bit now, but man, those were the days. I remember coming home from parties where I tried to drain a half-barrel myself and getting into bed and it would feel like I had a waterbed. I didn't really have one-- it just felt like it.
The other thing I seem to remember is that when I was really younger (like, say still in high school) I would never get hung over from drinking. I would go to a party and drink like 27 beers or so, and the next morning it would see like I would actually feel better instead of worse.
A few years later, though, I was in for a nice surprise a few times when I overdid it a bit. I remember one night in college when my friend mixed up a pitcher of Orange Crush mixed with orange flavored vodka. That was some smooth stuff going down, as I recall, but the next day? Ugh! I was in the band and we had a football game that afternoon. I got up that morning and went to take a shower and ended up right back in bed. For the next 3 or 4 hours I would alternately sleep and sit up for a second to try to drink some juice or something. I finally made it to the game, but about 15 minutes late.
My only "never again" experience that really was Never Again was a few years later at a bar that had kamikaze shot night on thursday nights. My friends and I went in there one thursday night and someone decided to order a round of shots for us. We all drank one and then the next person decided they should buy a round, too. Only thing was, they bought 2 shots for each person. So, we drank them. Well, the next person decided to buy 3 for each person and so on... I think it got up to about 7 or 8 shots per round before we finally quit.
Later, we were sitting at the bar talking when I suddenly realized I could no longer talk. My friends were doing all the talking. I got bored and sunk a shot glass in a half empty glass of beer. A couple of Mexican guys came over and claimed it was their beer and that they were pissed. My friends apologized up and down and offered to buy them new beers and such, but they just wanted to argue. I was still bored (since I was unable to speak) so I went to the bathroom. I didn't feel so good while I was in there, so I left and went home. There I learned about the expression "worshipping the porcelain god." Man, was I sick. To this day I would not drink another kamikaze shot if you paid me.
The next day I found out that the Mexican guys waited outside in the alley for me to come out so they could beat me up for putting the shot glass in their beer. Fortunately I had already left and gone home to pay for my ignorant ways!
