Today I'm grateful
I can be the voice of reason.

I’m a philistine -- indifferent to cultural values, intellectual pursuits, aesthetic refinement and contentedly commonplace in ideas and taste (thank you dictionary.com.) This basically means I’m boring, so I can be the voice of reason for all of you party girls out there. Please trust me when I say, “Never, never, never – even if it makes perfect sense at the time, never do anything on a dare, particularly if you’ve been cocktailing.” No good can come out of it. Forget about beer goggles, martini earbuds make everything sound like a good idea.

Case in point, an 18-year-old New Zealand woman was hospitalized and had to pay a fine after a drunken dare—flash oncoming traffic—which caused a male driver to run into her, rolling her onto the car's hood and cracking the windshield. After reading this (and knowing all the stupid stuff I've done on drunken dares) my only question is, how did the driver explain the accident to his insurance company? “I was driving and a pair of boobies jumped right out at me, it was like deer, only with two big headlights.”

Cherelle Dudfield and her exhibitionist breasts walked away with minor injuries, a $200 fine and a citation. The most reassuring part of the story is the wisdom this girl has gained from her ordeal. Obviously she wants others to learn from her mistakes, she said “Don't be me. Don't be stupid, don't get drunk and stand in the middle of the road and flash anyone, 'cause it hurts when you get hit.” Ahhh, out of the mouths of topless, drunken babes.

I’m grateful I can be the voice of reason, because in the past I’ve had friends follow through with drunken dares including (and not limited to): kissing girls, getting hideous tattoos, eating ice cream with crunchy cat food topping and the worst drunken dare category of all, “I dare you to drink one just more shot.” Next time you’re out drinking, and someone dares you to do something, there’s logic why they aren’t doing it -- because it’s stupid. And I should know. I still can’t get that nasty taste of cat food out of my mouth.

That’s why I’m grateful I can be the voice of reason.






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Forget about rainbows and unicorns, I’m grateful for double martinis, single men and pretty much anything covered in chocolate or cheese. This gratitude journal is anonymous because the stuff that tends to fall out of my head and land on the page makes HR departments cringe -- and guys lose my number.
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