The cure for my pot-phobia came in the form of a girlfriend, who instilled in me the ability to curse in Ukrainian and make a poached egg. mike force
For a tiny person, I can really drink. I’ve drunk large men under the table multiple times, no problem. It’s not something I set out to do—I’m just not a one- or two-drink person. I like to get hammered. My grandpa did, too. I wouldn’t have been able to recognize him without a glass of brown liquor on the rocks. He was a psychiatrist, and after downing a fifth of brandy every night, he got up at 6 a.m. to see patients. He lived to 86. Legend has it, he was immune to hangovers.
I, however, am not. I get them bad. I’ve hallucinated from hangovers—I remember walking past a purely imaginary man in a trash can one morning, so fried from drinking I thought nothing of it…
