Now, I've got the time.

So. It's early in the morning. My friends are all away or busy. I've watched all the TV I can stand. I don't feel like doing any work. Nicole's become more entranced with sleep than myself. Yes, it seems like the perfect time to elaborate on just what I did in my foolish wager with Meg.

I drank more liquor in one sitting that I had ever had before in my life.

For those not paying attention, I should probably note that it took slightly less than an ounce.

Yes, Edketeers, I was so confident in the power of our country to learn from its glaring mistakes, that I allowed Ms. Meg to make me promise to take a shot of liquor if Bush won the election. This is pretty significant, because I don't drink. Never have before, don't plan to start now, find it pretty much to be repugnant. Thus, it took a lot of misplaced confidence for me to say I'd do it. But, I am a man of my word, so lat night, at nine, I bit the bullet and drank the Inferno. For those not in the know, that's a shot of Amaretto, a dash of 151, and a little bit of on fire.

Yeah! Fire! Applause to Meg, for making sure my one shot is about as manly and memorable as it gets. With fire! Woo!

So... the shot itself. Once it cooled, we all made a brief toast, and I downed the sucker. Unpleasant! Very much so! I don't get it, people. Black coffee or bleu cheese are acquired tastes, that was just painful going down! There was some gagging, and choking, and all was caught on tape for posterity. I got some cookies to wipe the taste away, and then beat an eventual retreat. (I did stick around to relay my Sean story to a Sean story virgin. It's quite an experience, if you haven't seen it live, you haven't truly seen it.)

Overall impression: well, I didn't get drunk, but that wasn't likely to happen anyway. Meg wouldn't get drunk on an Inferno, and she's very small. Very small! And I'm very large. If I were hollow, she could live inside me, comfortably, with a kitchenette and everything. Even with my absolute lack of built up tolerance, I could still say the alphabet backwards, which is something a lot of my peers can't do sober. But now I have a hard time understanding how people can get to drunk. I mean, any curiosity I had about the subtle flavors of the vast array of verboten beverages is utterly trumped by that fact that I've known less caustic acids. Now, I'm told it's the 151 that made me fear for the sanctity of my esophagus, but you know what? I'm not anxious to verify that. Curiosity: satisfied. Any spare liquor you were thinking of sending my way, best be saved for high schoolers desperate to rebel against a justified authority, insecure athletes unable to conceive of fun that's no chemically based, and, of course, the gentle citizens of Pier Pressure. I'll be satiate with my black coffee and bleu cheese, thank you very much.