amused
ursulav comes back with a lovely con report, includingI drank a lot more than I usually do at a Con, which was due entirely to people at the Sofawolf party. This very nice German man with a charmingly broken accent and a rather nice business suit (not a common fixture at furry convention parties) came up and offered me a shot of Jägermeister. (He was actually a salesman for Jägermeister.) I have a distinct memory of saying "No, no, I don't really drink--" and then he said "No, no! Is like medicine!" and nodding with utter sincerity, and suddenly there was this shot in my hand, and I thought "My god! Refusing to drink this would be like kicking a puppy in a business suit!" and the next thing I knew, it was burning a hole in my innards. "You're a very good salesman," I told him. He grinned like a shark in a puppy suit.Context for the few LJ souls who don't have her on your flist yet
I have friends who have expended hours of their lives trying to coax me into taking even a sip of beer, and all it takes is a nice German man who will look hurt if I refuse.
I must avoid Oktoberfest at all costs.
Having thus established myself on the road to debauchery, I had--gasp!--TWO WHOLE GLASSES of white wine the next day during dinner. The rum and Coke the day after that was just the icing on the cake. (Yeah, I'm a wild woman...) My liver, who's yearly alcohol intake resembles the annual rainfall of the drier bits of the Gobi desert, is probably reeling in this unexpected alcoholic monsoon and has convinced the spleen to help it build an ark for the coming apocalypse.
