Welcome to Wuss-dom

Well it all seemed innocent enough, Shammy Davis asked me to head out into RL to watch his wife sing at their local bar. She sings there often, and well, I needed to deliver a jar of pickles to him (that is another story). Heading down the highway, I came to the conclusion that this was just a ruse to keep me from leveling my druid too far ahead of the shaman that he has been writing about.

They live in a rural community, not a one tooth, pick-up truck with a missing tailgate rural community, but more of a minivan with a missing tailgate, bedroom community for a fairly large city. But I digress, this article isn't going to be about hill billies.

As we skip ahead to this morning, I have to report an incredible hangover. I haven't felt this bad in ages. Not since I drank that punch bowl of Sake as part of my initiation for getting my black belt in Jiu-Jitsu has my head pounded this bad. What happened to me? Did one of the local cougars slip me some roofies? I didn't notice any chaffing on my parts (my wife verified that there was no part chaffing that she was responsible for).

As I re-travel through the fog, that is last night, I came to the conclusion that it was my journey to Wuss-dom that I completed. For the drink tally - 2 beers. That's it! Two beers totally wrecked me. I am so in the line up for umbrella drinks from now on. I never have this problem in Azeroth, in between instances or after I empty my bags from questing I can go to the local pub and drink several caraway burnwines or a glass of Dalaran white without fear of this much pain. Maybe a fuzzy monitor (but that is easily fixed with the un-checking of a few graphics options).

I am now to the point in my article, where I say to myself, "How am I going to end this?" You know what? I can't think of a single thing. My head is freaking killing me so much that I can't even come up with anything witty. I feel awkward like Frodo's uncle at his birthday party, in the Fellowship of the Ring. Fidgit, fidgit - Good bye.