>
>The Five Levels of Drinking
>
>LEVEL 1:  It's 11:00 on a weeknight, you've had a few beers.  Just as you 
>get up to leave because you have work the next day, one of your friends 
>buys another round.  One of your "unemployed" friends.  Here at level one 
>you think to yourself, "Oh come on, this is silly, as long as I get seven 
>hours of sleep, I'll be fine."
>
>LEVEL 2:  It's midnight.  You've had a few more beers.  You've just spent 
>20 minutes arguing against the use of artificial turf.  You get up to leave

>again, but at level two, a little devil appears on your shoulder.  And now 
>you're thinking, "Hey!  I'm out with my friends!  What am I working for 
>anyway?  These are the good times!  Besides, as long as I get five hours 
>sleep...I'm cool."
>
>LEVEL 3:  One in the morning.  You've abandoned beer for tequila.  You've 
>just spent 20 minutes arguing FOR the use of artificial turf.  And now 
>you're thinking, "Our waitress is the most beautiful woman I've ever seen!"

>  At level three, you love the world.  On the way to the bathroom you buy a

>drink for the stranger at the end of the bar just because you like his 
>face.  You get drinking fantasies (like, "Hey fellas, if we bought our own 
>bar, we could live together forever.  We could do it. Tommy, you could 
>cook.")  But at level three, that devil is a little bit bigger...and he's 
>buying.  And you're thinking, "Oh, come on, come on now.  As long as I get 
>three hours sleep...and a complete change of blood, I'm cool."
>
>LEVEL 4:  Two in the morning.  And the devil is bartending.  For last call,

>you ordered a bottle of rum and a Coke.  You ARE artificial turf!  This 
>time on your way to the bathroom, you punch the stranger at the end of the 
>bar.  Just because you don't like his face!  And now you're thinking, "Our 
>busboy is the best looking man I've ever seen."  You and your friends 
>decide to leave, right after you get thrown out, and one of you knows an 
>after hours bar.  Here at level four, you actually think to yourself, 
>"Well...as long as I'm only going to get a few hours sleep anyway, I may as

>well....STAY UP ALL NIGHT!!!!  Yeah!  That'd be good for me.  I don't mind 
>going to that board meeting looking like Keith Richards.  Yeah, I'll turn 
>that around, make it work for me.  And besides, as long as I get 31 hours 
>sleep tomorrow, I'm cool.
>
>LEVEL 5:  Five in the morning.  After unsuccessfully trying to get your 
>money back at the tattoo parlor ("But I don't even know anybody named 
>Simon!!!"), you and your friends wind up across the state line in a bar 
>with guys who have been in prison as recently as... that morning.  It's the

>kind of place where even the devil is going, "Uh, I gotta turn in.  I gotta

>be in Hell at nine."  At this point, you're all drinking some kind of thick

>blue liquor, like something from a Klingon wedding.  A waitress with fresh 
>stitches comes over, and you think to yourself, "Someday I'm gonna marry 
>that girl!!"  One of your friends stands up and screams, "WE'RE DRIVIN' TO 
>VEGAS, BABY!!!!!" - and passes out.  You crawl outside for air, and then 
>you hit the worst part of level five - the sun. You weren't expecting that 
>were you?  You never do.  You walk out of a bar in daylight, and you see 
>people on their way to work, or jogging.  And they look at you and they 
>know.  And they say,"Who's Simon?"  Let's be honest, if you're 19 and you 
>stay up all night, it's like a victory.  You've beat the night.  But if 
>you're over 30, then that sun is like God's flashlight.
>
>We all say the same prayer then, "I swear, I will never do this again as 
>long as I live!"  And some of us have that little addition, "and this time,

>I mean it!"


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