Kathryn's experience makes me want to invent a way to induce hallucinations in the obnoxious. Like the sight of a crazed Dubya loading and aiming an assault rifle.
It embarasses me that I turned into a burden because I hadn't been observant of my need for tagamet following the habenero-spiced lunch treat, but aside from that, a lot of good things happened and we parted friends.
Am I so boring that I cannot charm when I am sober? Do I cause such pain that some kind of anesthesia is called for? Some drinkers never seem to think how insulting their attitudes about who is worthy of their company can be.
