AWOL: The Rational Derangement of [Our] Senses*

Last time I ordered a chocolate martini (followed by a beer, followed by champagne), I didn't feel so good. Not only was the room doing cartwheels when I awoke at two A.M., but I'd blown my diet (the one I blow daily).

Now, thanks to my answered prayers, I can get svelte and shitfaced at the same time. Alas, testers quoted in Newsweek say it doesn't work, but, quite frankly, I'd like to see for myself. Because if we aging waist-watchers don't find us a new high (a low, really) soon, we may have to take drastic measures. Or worse**.

Really. Is a diet-safe, sleep-neutral, and stomach- and head-friendly buzz too much to ask?

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*Arthur Rimbaud, 1854-1891, poet, boy genius, and inventor of free verse is credited with a similar phrase.
**Could we get a little punctuation and spelling here, Quay?