Swizzle Stuck

Sometimes this blog is about drinking.

While it's an interesting meld of science and morality (or maybe sensibility), ice cubes that turn color when I get drunk will not stop me from drinking too much.  Those cubes could grow enormous clown hands that rise up from the glass to flap me in the face rapid-fire and still I would drink past reasonableness.

Every Icarus has a weakness and mine happens to transpire once a week and usually culminates with an involuntary slumber in the flower bed.  If someone invents some ice cubes that will cook for me and guide me to the warmth of my bed after a night of debauching, then let me know.

As of now, I am not impressed.

Bartendress!!!!!?  I see the Wild Turkey over there, how about a  Presbyterian for this here ex-Catholic.