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Monday, August 23, 2004

grappa 

if you look up grappa in the dictionary it simply has a skull and cross bones. no, not really--but it should. i do love a nice drink . . . of wine, or champagne . . . or, you know, feeling crazy--maybe a dirty martini. i have no idea what came over me . . . but i drank enough grappa yesterday at my friend's sunday lunch party to float all those coxless team G.B. gold medal winners . . . it is almost 6 p.m., and i am verging on remembering what normalcy feels like . . . the most interesting thing about grappa is . . . you know you're drunk . . . but you don't feel drunk . . . you know you're in trouble . . . but you keep drinking more . . . you know that you're crashing out at your friend's house because the idea of going home is unimaginable. . . . but you swill another glass . . . alas.

i will not say that i'll never drink again . . . it's not been that bad a hangover . . .but i will say that i shall never drink grappa again . . . ever. never. no!

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