I hate Valentine's Day.

    So, most years I've done something for Valentine's Day, be it writing a humor column or sending out poems to some of the people I love. This year, however, I did none of that. Instead, I managed to ignore the holiday by busying myself with work in the afternoon, and joining some friends for dinner and then games which ran late into the evening.

    However, a bit after midnight, my depression instinct kicked in, and I walked away from the party to go sit in my room alone, as per Valentine's Day tradition. After a modicum of time spent doing this, I turned on the computer game I'm borrowing from a friend (yay, Morrowind) and drowned myself in it until around 5:30. I didn't get to sleep until after 6.

    This is important to the story because I woke up on Saturday at 4:00 in the afternoon. I had two bowls of cereal and began to check up on my email and other internet things, but for some reason felt tired and lay down to rest again. Eventually I got up at around 9-ish and went to a birthday party for a friend.

    Now, at this party, there was alcohol. I tend not to drink because I don't like the taste of most alcohol, but I tried a dash of coconut rum with lemonade because it was there. Then my host was handing out shots of something called a French Kiss. This apparently consists of Bailey's, Amaretto, and Creme de Cacao. I asked for a half a shot glass, because I'm not much of a drinker, and everyone mocked my half order of even a girly drink.

    Well, it was tasty. I decided to redeem myself and ask for a full shot instead, which a fellow asked me to toast him with. But I drank it too fast, so needed another one to toast him with. Sadly, I wasn't feeling at all toasted myself, and while asking if alcohol would ever have any effect on me, consumed a few glasses of mudslide.

    Finally, perhaps aided by the fact that I never drink and had not eaten anything all day except two bowls of cereal, it hit me. I felt mildly dizzy and sleepy, and for the first time in my life, I had become mildly intoxicated. No doubt there are some amusing anecdotes about what I said during the next hour, but my notoriously poor memory didn't improve for having been a bit tipsy, so such anecdotes must be gleaned from other people. The only bits which stick in my mind were that I told one girl that her hair was nicer than scissors, and told another fellow that he was a credit to humanity.

    Apparently my vocabulary, humor, and general intellectual bent are maintained even when I'm slightly inebriated, which is nice to know. Still, given the stomachial unpleasantness last night (internal only) and headache thismorning (okay, afternoon again), it will probably be a while before I get drunk a second time.