I love candles. That does NOT, however, make me a girl. It doesn’t. My roommate’s new purse? Girl.

I guess last week I turned 21? It was fun. We went downtown and my friend bought me some drinks. First up was this garbage, which is similar to cherry cough syrup, but less viscous and without the healing effects. One of the most disgusting things I’ve ever had, really. And they call it a desert drink? Like cheesecake is a desert? I don’t know. Next I had part of their beer sampler (since the whole thing would have put me under the table… easily. Turns out I’m a lightweight. Surprised? Neither was anybody else), which consisted of 11 beers ranging from “O! Light” (like watered-down apple juice) to something else that was on the other end, something else that was red but which I can’t seem to remember the name of. I hated most of it.. I don’t know. I can’t describe the taste except for disgusting. The stout was at least palatable, and the wheat beer didn’t cause me to gag, but it had a lot of the same qualities that cause me to hate green tea. People keep trying to tell me about other drinks that are supposedly much more fabulously tasty, but I somehow am not compelled to imbibe of them. The whole idea causes a pit of trepidation to build in me. It is the fear of losing control. As human beings one of our greatest assets is self-control (2 Peter 1:5-9), and as me it is one of my only assets. When I discovered that I could turn my head faster than my vision could catch up… well, at the time I thought it was funny, but now I cringe. I’ve always admired those people who have the capacity and permission to drink, but don’t for whatever reason. And given my experience so far, root beer > beer.

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