As I arose from bed this morning at the ripe hour of noon, I came to the sneaking realization that a dangerous and incapacitating disability was going to rule my every action this cinco de Mayo. As a result of my celebratory behaviors last evening, I awoke with the many symptoms associated with PDRS, or post-drunken retard syndrome. My head was pounding, eyes unable to focus and stomach upset to the point that it was audibly making me aware of its discontent. I generally make it a point not to overimbibe, to avoid the shaky, anxious, scrambled egg-head fate that accompanies this sort of careless behavior, but in true quarter-century fashion, I made it a point to properly ring in the new age with overconsumption, both in the culinary and ethanol realm.
It is with much regret, and clouded vision, that I must inform you that I will be unable to write a decent post until my cerebrum has healed. Let this serve as a warning to all of you revelers out there that PDRS is very real, and capable of disabling even the most seasoned alcoholic beverage drinker. Celebrate wisely.
