Last night I was being myself, sitting around in the dark, watching a pirated DVD, eating some type of store-bought cookies, when I was invited to go to the local watering hole. I obliged, spent half an hour putting on different clothes to impress the potential woman of my dreams who was obviously going to be at this local watering hole, begging me to love her, and met my friends for drinks. Over 3 hours, I had 3 tall beers, which is usually fine for me, because I’m an adult man and I can bench press a horse and chew through steel and shit. But because I had not eaten anything but some type of store-bought cookies for a few hours, and because my body is a moron, I was pretty drunk when I left. Being the well-studied rocket scientist that I am, I stopped at 7-11 and bought two bottles of Gatorade to cleanse my system of the liquid poison that I had just ingested. I pounded the first bottle, a delicious orange flavor, before I even got home. I cracked open the second one, but my weird fat body was full of sloshy liquid, so I decided to wait a little bit. I stumbled around in my dark, empty house, made my way down to the basement dungeon where I reside, and got into bed. After a few minutes I felt my insides talking to each other. They were gargling and bubbling and being generally unpleasant, so I decided I’d go into the bathroom and see what the hell it is they wanted. I sat down on the floor, coughed a couple of times, and threw up approximately 32 ounces of orange Gatorade. This really wasn’t a story. I just wanted to say I threw up. I’m very wordy.