kari_ferrell I’ve never been a drinker, mostly because ½ of a Red Stripe gets me gone, and I end up on the floor screaming at people to get me french fries from Wendy’s while wearing nothing but a monocle.

Apparently, this isn’t uncommon and many Asian people get shafted (and not in the good way), because they lack the enzyme that allows them to metabolize the acetaldehyde in alcohol. If throwing back liquor were at all fun for me, even only 5% fun, I’d probably continue to do it; but it is 100% of a bad time, every time.

Plus, I like to think that I would do anything a drunk person would do, while sober. I envy those of you that are able to guzzle down terrible-tasting fluid, like you’re a single mom three days before Christmas. Being shit-faced looks like so much fun; what with the yelling at other drunkards, flamboyant racism, fun outfits, and the finding of your incoherent body somewhere in the Midwest–sans pants–missing a vital organ with a condom stretched over your head.

It’s like being an alcoholic is akin to being a WASP. No one really wants to admit to it, but there is a sense of pride associated with the title. Alcoholics are able to identify with one another, based upon the sole fact that they like to pummel their livers with awesome. I’ve been told that there are secret handshakes, winks, and grunts that all drunks know, and when they meet up with one another it’s all very Masonic. Maybe one day they’ll even have their own temple.

New York has more alcoholics than any other city, per capita. No, that’s not a scientific fact, but I was wearing glasses while I made that up, so you know there’s some truth in it. I don’t mind being around drunk people, I actually enjoy it (it makes the manipulation process so much easier), but it does get tiring watching them exude so much greatness, while I have to go about sucking the dude off in the alleyway stone-cold straight.

Fortunately for me, NY has great bars that offer something other than drinking (like this), where beautiful bearded boys frequent, and care not about my past…because they’re so wasted they don’t realize who I am.

[Ed. note: ANIMAL doesn’t normally condone the utilization of the term “hipster,” but because Kari Ferrell is so awesome she’s allowed to to place the word in her title.]

[Authors note: Ed. note written by Kari Ferrell.]