I went out with some old high school friends over the weekend. It'd been a while since I'd seen any of them, which is awkward. "Oh, hi! How have I been doing? Oh, you know, the usual. Married, divorced, dating, dumped, living in an attic. All in three years!"
I got a couple blank stares.
"... Are you... OK?" they'd ask, curious, afraid I might explode.
Then they'd just hand me a giant glass boot full of beer. Makes it all better!
No, seriously. It was a boot of beer. And although I felt just fine, a boot of beer does make it much better. I don't even like beer, but I was on a mission.
Have you guys ever played the boot drinking game? Each person takes a drink from the boot and passes it on to the next person. If the person you hand the boot to finishes the boot (which means you were too weak to finish it yourself), you lose. And you have to buy the next boot.
Then you're out some 20-odd dollars.
Oh, hell no.
So twice - count them, one, two - I chugged the remaining beer in the boot. And it was a lot of beer. We're talking beer bong proportions. It was just as awful as it sounds. But I refused to lose. It has nothing to do with my ego, and everything to do with the fact that I didn't want to drop 20+ bucks on a new boot.
Unfortunately I'm not 21 anymore, and man, did I feel it the next day.
But no one can ever call me a loser.