Sobriety is for Wimps

Greetings, fellow internettians. After a few months of reading this, I suggested to Neko and Walrus that I might have something to contribute, and get this, the fools believed me. So, story-time with Fizzgig commences now.

Early on in my freshman year at PCU, I still spent evening times with my hallmates more often than not (like ya do). One night in particular, there was a party with a decidedly sexual theme, and these hallmates decided, with inarguable logic, that it would be best to combine this event with alcohol. Now, being not so much a drinker at that point in my life, I had but a little, but one of my hallmates, we'll call him Mr. Potato Head, had quite a bit more. So much more, in fact, that another of my hallmates, we'll call him Yankee, was prompted to begin what would become the most memorable exchange of the evening:

Yankee: Potato, you're looking a little flushed...
Potato: WHaa?
Yankee: Your face is looking a little red.
Potato: /dabs finger on face, licks finger/ Doesn't taste red...

The moral of this story: If it ever starts to seem reasonable to taste your skin to determine color, put down the booze.