By Gwyneth Doland
Drinking too much impairs your judgment—long before you do something so lethally stupid as getting behind the wheel of a car. For example, your no-smoking regime? Worked great until beer No. 2; by beer No. 4 you were bumming from the bartender. Remember that time you rode your bike home drunk, crashed and broke your two front teeth out? Oh God. Or the time you went home with that drummer, the one you promised yourself you wouldn't go home with because you'd already slept with the bass player and two guys in one band is one too many? Booze can wreck your waistline, too, and not just because it's full of empty calories. One-and-a-half margaritas can be all it takes for you to give up on your diet completely. One Malibu and Diet Coke makes chips and salsa look really good. Two Vanilla Stoli and sodas make an order of chicken strips sound like a great idea. After several rounds of birthday (or bachelor, breakup, baby, whatever) B-52s (or blowjobs, car bombs, whatever) and you're demanding the designated driver take you through the Whataburger drive-through for a Whatacatch with onion rings and a side of cream gravy. Noooooo! What a nightmare. I'd rather wake up between the drummer and bass player than with the hazy recollection of a Whatadrivethru binge.
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