I had a bout with a bottle of scotch yesterday. Clan MacGregor Scotch Whiskey to name names. I'm still feeling the effects of it today, nearly 6pm the following day. My balance is off and my head is swirly, combined with a massive headache, though I'm relieved that it's not a hangover of epic proportions. For those of you who don't know, or don't know me well, I'm no drinker. I can't stand the taste of beer and usually only drink at social events, and even then I have a Martini or two. My family has history with alcohol, and I don't trust the addictive human nature since I've seen what it can do to someone first hand. I'm no prude, or saint to be sure... I just know that there is a time and a place for drinking. Every day after work isn't it. I can see having a glass of wine with dinner, or the occasional night cap, but getting ferschnockered isn't my cup of Earl Grey Tea.
Now we will understand why I have these tenets of wisdom. Yesterday, when I decided to have some scotch with my brother, I didn't take into account how much he enjoys drinking. Ere go, a single glass of scotch turned into 6, and for the first time in my drinking history Thomas reports that I pulled a Dad in the kitchen. I have no memory of it...none whatsoever.
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