-Getting drunk is an American tradition – one could say the values we cherish most include Life, Liberty, and the pursuit of Happy Hour.  These days, the culture of inebriation is usually experienced first in high school.  For me, that meant waiting until one of my friends went on vacation with his family, and then throwing a party in their vacant backyard.  The indoctrination continues in college.  This spring, universities across the country will hold various annual festivals that in reality consist solely of undergrads trying to get as fucked up as possible – as they tend to do whenever a tent or a band is involved.  After college, the drinking does not subside, but its effects must now be concealed.  Business casual-clad twentysomethings trudge to work every morning knowing that if they must, the 14th floor handicapped stall is the best one to boot in.   Thus throughout our lives, it is our choices (of beer, vodka, or whiskey) that define us.   I drink, therefore I am.

-I hate bars that have a selection of like 500 different beers.  If I wanted to feel like an idiot ordering from an overly-extensive and confusing menu, I’d drink wine.  I’m a man who likes his beer in a red, plastic cup and served with a hint of ping-pong ball residue.

-I’m always the guy who gets a stray ice chip in his shot.  It’s horrible because, for a millisecond, I think I’m gonna choke to death.  Then I finally swallow, remember how much I abhor SoCo Lime shots, and wish the ice chip had just finished me off.

-I was partying in Chicago last year when I accomplished a first for me – I had two different tabs on two different cards open simultaneously at the same bar.  Some might call that being an idiot.  But I call it “building credit history.”