ihavebeenfloated

So, when Kristie and I went to see Halloween the other night… on Halloween… coincidentally… She had a 40 oz Steel Reserve 211 High Gravity Lager and we drank it down in the parking lot before seeing the film. I don’t like beer but when she said it was like licking the inside of a bowl (of a pipe.. of a pipe for smoking illicit substances) I couldn’t resist and had to taste it. I guess I’m weird but when you say something like, “Brad, this is the worst tasting shit you will ever put in your mouth ever,” I end up responding with, “Really? Give me a taste?”

I took a swig of it and my reaction was something like, “Oh… oh god.. rrrgh.. ugh,” and my face contorted into that uncomfortable look of pain and then I just sat there for a bit.

And then I said, “I think I am going to need some more of that.”

I don’t know how much of it I drank but I got a good buzz on and later that night I got a pretty sour headache like I normally do after I’ve been drinking. And I was dehydrated. Overall it was a typical alcohol experience that leaves me feeling pretty shitty by the time I go to sleep.

Wednesday night I decided that Kristie and Co. could buy me a tall boy of 211 so I could just drink it on my own and get pretty wasted for pretty cheap. Again, it tasted like horse piss but I almost drank all of it and I got a good buzz/drunkenness going on. The strangest thing happened however: I never got a headache. Even when the buzz started to wear off, usually where the headache starts to kick in brutally, there was nothing. No pain in my head.

Thursday night I drank a few White Russians and got pretty good and drunk, sobered up a bit, and boom, massive headache. Sucked a lot.

Earlier tonight, Friday night, I drank another tall boy of 211 and… No headache. I’m pretty much back to normal and there is no headache. Weirder too, even, is that I didn’t get dehydrated. How the fuck is it even possible for me to get drunk and not end up painfully dehydrated? It isn’t possible. It is medically impossible. I’m drinking water anyway, but usually by the time drunkenness rolls around I’m feeling pretty fucking parched. Not this time.

I don’t know what the deal is, but I’m putting everyone on notice: If you want to buy Brad alcohol, buy him a tall boy of 211. That is all Brad needs.

Everything in my life gives me a headache. But not 211. Word.