Blame it on Tequila

I haven’t done much while drunk on tequila that I regret. I don’t regret lying about it either. I have heard tales from friends behind and in front of bars, though. Most involve odd combinations of sexual adventures, vomiting in planters, and public urination.
Here’s a list of things tequila almost made me do:

• Dance without realizing nobody is dancing with me.
• Lick salt off a woman’s torso while she was sprawled out on a bar at the House of Blues. (Did you know tequila kills germs?)
• Smoke a cigar that tasted like a mud puddle.
• Forget where I parked.
• Hands-free urination in a stall because I needed to hold the walls and stop the bathroom from spinning.
• Challenge a woman to a sidewalk sprint.
• Bounce quarters.
• Pass out while inside a woman.
• Watch infomercials.
• Let a (less) drunk woman drive my sports car.
• Burn the roof of my mouth on hot pizza.
• Knock on random hotel room doors and run away.
• Pee in a sink.
• Try to negotiate at a fast food drive-thru window.
• Eat fried ice cream.
• Microwave an aluminum leftover container.
• Hang my head out the car window while driving.
• Eat oysters.
• Buy clothing I would never wear.
• Tell someone I can’t stand that I love him or her.
• Sing Elton John songs in public.
• Bark at a dog locked in a car.

Tequila is great for lowering inhibitions. Mine are naturally high. Still, no amount of tequila could make me do any of the following:

• Vote for The Donald.
• Admit that Chris Brown is talented.
• Have sex over Skype.
• Paddle boating.
• Call Mike Tyson anything except “Sir.”
• Buy a pet parakeet.
• Drive a motorcycle.
• Post a profile photo of myself making a duck face.
• Pick up dog poop with or without a bag over my hand, unless I’m about to throw it at Glenn Beck.
• Give up drinking tequila.