You already know from previous entries that I rarely drink and will only do so when I will not have to drive in the same night.
Last night, because it was the season finale of "Deadwood" on HBO, we elected to do it up. The "F" word was the word of the night, but it quickly became too frequent, so we changed the word to "c***s****r."
The drink was Jagermeister and Red Bull. C had asked Geoff for Goldschlager, but he bought one syllable too many. I was growing numb, in my jaw, in my hands, in my arse. If not for the Red Bull, I'm sure I would have been out like a light. (Well that and the idea that I had slept almost all day.)
What's surprising is that I woke up feeling pretty good!
I don't know if it can solely be attributed to the caffeinated drink loaded with B vitamins, or also has roots in the Tylenol I took beforehand and the water I drank during AND the lovely dinner I had when I first went over to Cs around 7 or 8.
Writing this reminds me about reading NJ Little Bear's journal. He is trying to loose weight, but then he goes out drinking and not just lightly. I want to slap him. Duh!
I just haven't told him because I don't think it's my place to be the boss of him.
Alcohol is caloric, friends. Please take notice and be advised.
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