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Joe mentioned to me that he was going to make mead and I replied with “I want that to be my first alcohol”. He said that no one has gotten first drunk on mead before, and I said not since the 12th century. I’m going to start consuming alcohol but I want some arbitrary rules to make it mine.

From SuburbanAdventureRehost

Some of the ones I’m considering:

1) only drink something where I’ve shaken the hand of its maker. If I ever become wine snob, Southern Hemisphere wines could prove tough.
2) for each actuarial exam I get to drink one more type of distilled or fermented drink until I unlock them all as an FCAS.
3) only drink things of a particular color, preferably something odd.
4) only drink things whose proof value is below my age. Right now, I can drink most strong beers but not many fortified wines.
5) only drink things whose percent alcohol is below the maximum distance in miles I can run in a single go. If I want to ever slam Everclear, I need to start prepping for some ultra marathons.

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Housemate: Terry, I have an amazing idea.
Me: Have you been drinking?
Housemate: Maybe I have, maybe I have a lot, but hear me out.
Me: Ok.
Housemate: I think we should get your dad another cat.  Sneakers may not be around forever.
Me: So, what’s your idea?
Housemate: I’ll go to the animal shelter, find the cutest kitten I can that still has its claws and take it back to my girlfriend’s house.  We’ll play with it until it’s good and tired, bring it over here, put it on your dad’s lap.  It’ll fall asleep and your father will have no choice but to keep it after being hit by adorable.
Me: What if the cat doesn’t fall asleep?
Housemate: No choice.
Me: What if Sneakers doesn’t like the other cat?
Housemate: No choice.
Me: What if it’s a short-hair breed, I think I’m allergic to those?
Housemate: *whispers* No choice.

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Anthony turned 21 on Friday and wanted to celebrate. We met at Applebee’s and as I arrived first I ordered a round of drinks where Tom Leitz requested that Anthony not get a girly drink so I got him a Philadelphia Black and Tan in a 23 oz. glass. Everyone arrived and I was quite relieve that when Tom said “Bill was coming” that it was Schilling and not Mischke.

Anyway, Anthony’s glass’s fluid level slowly dropped but I’m certain that this was largely due to evaporation. I accosted him about this to which he responded “I had a number of daquiri’s on my birthday and I’m still recovering”. He didn’t finish his drink so I did what any reasonable person would, I made him steal it so he could finish it at camp. He declined, so I stole it (after paying for it which I suppose makes it not stealing) and I now a curvy iced tea glass.  On the plus side, it would have been hell to try to hold his hair back as he worshiped the porcelain god.