Drink Yourself Stupid

I'm not big on cocktails. One alcoholic drink in the glass at a time is usually enough for me. (I know that's not the dictionary definition but one liquor and a mixer doesn't seem worthy of the term.) So when My Two Dads took me out to Empire on Sunday, trouble was most definitely on the cards.



I usually drink 7&7 here and will miss it when I go. Tall glass = very refreshing! So it was an easy leap to the Rusty Nail on the menu. I say "the Rusty Nail" like it was singular: don't be fooled. Dan continued to make them for me at home, though apparently it should be Dewar's and Drambuie in a 1:2 (some sites say 1:3) ratio and we were making 1:1. Oops!

Around 4am, we decided to call it a night. We had all been slurring for while, yet for some reason this hadn't deterred us any. I was to be walked home - only 4 or 5 blocks - but we didn't get very far before falling over. As if by magic, the ugliest policeman in the world was right there on the scene, which sobered me up a leetle bit. Somehow we managed to convince him, from our seated position on the sidewalk, that we didn't need help or arresting. I made it to bed but the room was spinning. I think I was still drunk yesterday, and this morning's hangover bears that out.

P.S.A.: Do remember to drink responsibly. When you aim for that, sometimes accidents happen and you end up with a night like mine. If you aim to have a night like mine, well... it's your funeral!