Remember those first few times you got really drunk. Maybe it was high school. For some it was your first few hours of college. Anyway, if you are anything like me, and I know you are because I know each and everyone who will ever read this post, those first libations changed everything. You got loud. You got obnoxious. You got sick. Maybe you got drunk and were convinced to jump off a balcony into a snowdrift. Maybe you gained a penchant for getting naked and jumping into pools regardless of the company present. Perhaps one one or two occasions you ate vegetables directly from the can or possibly in a blended concoction of semi-thawed turkey pot pie and bananas. Maybe you drank till all hours of the night.

This too, passed. You grew out of this initial phase. Your tolerance grew. You recognized your limits. You learned that your voice grew louder in direct proportion to the number of drinks you had. You started looking like something out of a scotch commercial. Suave, debonair, packing heat.

I had learned these valuable lessons. I had matured with my quarter century. Err, wait a minute. Over the course of the past couple of seasons, I have proved myself wrong. I have chugged Captain Morgan strait from the bottle and then jumped into a hot tub by myself. Yeah, it was uncomfortable for each and every one of the 30 onlookers. I was fine with it. For Christ's sake, I just challenged a half German soccer player to shots and headbutts. I lost. I know, it happens to all of us, but after a wedding reception? Really? Don't worry about me, the scar will heal. I would have had it stitched, but Perkins was right next door.

Learn from my relapse: Know your limits. Then get together with your good friends and hump those limits in the butt. Everyone will love it. It'll be like you're 18 again (or in my case 9).

See, I can't even finish this post because I have to go drink. Awesome. Please help.