Yesterday was a bad day for drinking. I went to a local pub for my friend Joe's birthday and must've had about eight beers or more. The thing is that, I used to be able to tell when I was getting wasted. Three beers was my limit. Now I was knocking them back like apple juice. I was amazed, really. I felt no effect over me, other than a little buzz. But it was when I got really sentimental that I realized that I was totally drunk.
Not totally, though. I could still drive. But had I stayed a bit longer, somebody would've had to take me home.
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