When I began 2 + 2, around about the time computers began catching on with people who drink more than may be required for a full and happy existence, I gave little thought to the possibility of any members of the opposite sex besides maybe my mom ("Do I really drink that much, Beer?") reading these pages. Hell, Sonja rarely visits the blog she lovingly calls Pooh Plus Pooh.
Clearly some, perhaps a great many women, are attracted to men who can vomit with the best of them. Don't laugh, I am very serious. All the guys I know who have had long, loving relationships met their gals at the peak of their spewing years. I am no Dr. Motherfucking Phil but I wonder if women are drawn to men with barf on their clothes and their shoes the way they are drawn to puking babies.
When Sonja and I were in our early dating years I was a vomit machine. I can still see myself lying on the floor in my psychedelic green boxers with my head resting on a balcony's door sill covering (and I mean covering) the entire balcony with Russian vodka and orange juice. The more I puked the more Sonja loved me.
Admittedly, Sonja's attraction to her Barf Daddy may have waned a little when my puking advanced to standing in the middle of a room and pissing my pants. I had to slow down my beverage intake for a month or two after that piddling performance. They do not put the word sickness before health in marriage vows for nothing is all I am trying to say.
And some say liquor kills the the cells in your head
And for that matter so does getting out of bed
When I exit, I'll go out gracefully, shot in my hand
The pow pow pow pow power of positive drinking
- Lou Reed