The boys claimed sobriety. Eighteen down words stumbled jumbled and staggered. Birthday Boy flipped into pool, phone still in pocket. At twenty tallies the boys divulged they might be slightly intoxicated. “Slightly” stated with closed eyes, asinine smiles, and dripping words. Twenty-one: Birthday Boy slurped and then lurched to the bathroom. He continued the bathroom trek seven times before vowing to take shot number twenty-two. Twenty-two: Birthday Boy swigged, staggered to bathroom, and concluded his shot-inhalation with a crumple on the couch. It was 7:30pm. I drove him home at 10:30pm. The following day he awoke in his bed feeling fine and recalling little. His mom enlightened him as to the remainder of the evening. Once home, he inadvertently locked himself in the bathroom. After an hour, she rapped the door. Response: incoherent blather. After an hour and a half and much trepidation she jimmied the lock to find her twenty-two year old son sitting in the bathtub, shower curtain on head, twirling the bathtub knobs in what can only be assumed was an attempt to open the bathroom doorknob.
November 3rd 10:51pm - Kara's Flawless Formula
Years ago I roguishly instigated a particularly original, innovative procedure: one shot=one tally on arm=faultless birthday shot calculation throughout day/night. A few months ago a friend I had coerced into following Kara’s Flawless Formula on his 18th birthday did so again on his 22nd. The drinking commenced with four of us at a restaurant accompanied by drinks and eats. The gaiety persisted to a friend’s house complete with pool. By three-thirty in the afternoon the other female and I observed as the two boys tackled two handles of Captain Morgan, affectionately identified as C Mo. The inaugural shot launched the Shot Tally. Seven tallies in, the boys claimed sobriety. Ten shots defeated, the boys claimed sobriety. Fifteen deep Birthday Boy flipped into pool, phone in pocket (View photo. If you observe closely you can see black tallies on left forearm). 
The boys claimed sobriety. Eighteen down words stumbled jumbled and staggered. Birthday Boy flipped into pool, phone still in pocket. At twenty tallies the boys divulged they might be slightly intoxicated. “Slightly” stated with closed eyes, asinine smiles, and dripping words. Twenty-one: Birthday Boy slurped and then lurched to the bathroom. He continued the bathroom trek seven times before vowing to take shot number twenty-two. Twenty-two: Birthday Boy swigged, staggered to bathroom, and concluded his shot-inhalation with a crumple on the couch. It was 7:30pm. I drove him home at 10:30pm. The following day he awoke in his bed feeling fine and recalling little. His mom enlightened him as to the remainder of the evening. Once home, he inadvertently locked himself in the bathroom. After an hour, she rapped the door. Response: incoherent blather. After an hour and a half and much trepidation she jimmied the lock to find her twenty-two year old son sitting in the bathtub, shower curtain on head, twirling the bathtub knobs in what can only be assumed was an attempt to open the bathroom doorknob.
The boys claimed sobriety. Eighteen down words stumbled jumbled and staggered. Birthday Boy flipped into pool, phone still in pocket. At twenty tallies the boys divulged they might be slightly intoxicated. “Slightly” stated with closed eyes, asinine smiles, and dripping words. Twenty-one: Birthday Boy slurped and then lurched to the bathroom. He continued the bathroom trek seven times before vowing to take shot number twenty-two. Twenty-two: Birthday Boy swigged, staggered to bathroom, and concluded his shot-inhalation with a crumple on the couch. It was 7:30pm. I drove him home at 10:30pm. The following day he awoke in his bed feeling fine and recalling little. His mom enlightened him as to the remainder of the evening. Once home, he inadvertently locked himself in the bathroom. After an hour, she rapped the door. Response: incoherent blather. After an hour and a half and much trepidation she jimmied the lock to find her twenty-two year old son sitting in the bathtub, shower curtain on head, twirling the bathtub knobs in what can only be assumed was an attempt to open the bathroom doorknob.
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