So.. I am no longer the drinker I thought (hard to say, since the blackouts interfere with my memory of these exploits) I was. BKF was in town and as manly, hard as nails, manly (did I say manly?) men we were compelled to go out drinking.

We went to the local Korean restaurant and had our traditional drinking accoutrement.... flat fish and some anju in weird little dishes. But only two bottles of Soju. BFK, who has apparently become gay, asked if I wanted to order the second bottle!!!!

I did....

We drank and chatted about literature... as hairy chested heterosexuals do. On the way back BFK said we should stop and get "one more beer" (He had to drive back to Home on the Sea, which is about an hour drive).

Of course, once in the store he manned up, "Why don't we get a six-pak? I'll drink one and you can have the rest tomorrow."

Which we did and of course we went back to my place and drank them all -- "all" meaning three beers each, which is a pathetic amount and leads to my worry.

I woke up this morning and felt as though I had been assaulted by several two-by-fours. One was apparently still lodged in my rectum (I blame the Jalapeno Cheetos BFK purchased) and the other had been used to tenderize my head.

Three beers. One bottle Soju.

And one pussy. Me.

Is this what happens when you stop training?

I clearly need to drink more.

So, like, I'm on that tonight. ;-)