Yeah, I know. Crazy, isn’t it? After all those warnings about college being a place where “people get drunk” and where “people have parties,” look what I go ahead and do: I have one beer. And I’m going to do it every weekend now.

The one beer even tasted good. Well, it tasted mediocre. Subpar. I mean I wouldn’t go out and get one beer just for the taste. To tell the truth, I like root beer better. But does drinking root beer all day compare to having one beer? No. No, I don’t think it does.

I was just so happy drinking that one beer. You don’t even know. It was the happiest day of my life. What do they call that? Getting tipsy? Getting effed-up? I guess that’s what I did the other Wednesday night. I “got a little effed-up.” I did some things I regret, maybe, said some things I didn’t mean, but you only live once, right? So what’s wrong with having one beer and having some fun?

And it was loads of fun.  The slurring of words, the losing my balance, the blurred vision, the feeling like I was Chuck Norris, the shouting at people. I don’t really remember it all though. All I remember is thinking to myself, “I’m going to drink one beer every weekend now. It’s going to be the defining activity of my existence.”

The atmosphere, I tell you, the atmosphere! I felt like I was one with everyone in the bar, having a beer, like one of the bros. Not a worry in the world. Saying screw it to my homework—that felt really nice. I didn’t even do my homework that night. My professor basically lectures us anyway, so it doesn’t even matter. Golly, what one beer can do.

They say that alcohol “kills brain cells” and causes “cirrhosis of the liver.” Did you know that? That’s strange. This one beer, the source of so much pleasure, can actually be harmful. But do I care? Does it seem like I care? Hell no, I don’t care. I had one beer. I’m gonna keep doing it, too.

I bet all of this is making you say, “This guy is such a boozer.”  I’m sure it is. But hey, so what! I don’t care if you say I’m an alkie, I wanted to have one beer, and I did just that. It’s not my problem if I ended up hurling insults about your underwear into your face later into the night. It was that one beer talking.

Am I out of control? I apologize. I really do. I’m usually not this crazy. But it’s just that college is all about experimentation. I experimented. I’m sorry, mom. I’m sorry, person at Patrick’s who I called a “yak/walrus hybrid.”
By the way, is it the weekend yet?! Crikey, I want my one beer already! I want to get wasted!