Whiskey Greg

Since this is my first post, I feel it is only natural for me to give all of you a little background information about me, in the form of a story. As some of you may have already observed, I am usually a somewhat quiet, well-mannered individual that occasionally jokes around with people. However, there is an entirely different side of me that occasionally decides to come out. More often than not this other side decides to show his ugly face when the consumption of alcohol is involved. Not just any alcohol, I might add. This rarely seen, testosterone driven side of me only comes out when enough whisky to inebriate a fully grown work horse is consumed in a single sitting.

Now that all the background information is taken care of I believe it is time for the real story...

It was a few days after New Years and I woke up that morning just looking to get weird that night. I had just spent nearly 10 days with my family, away from my friends, and I hadn't consumed a single drop of alcohol the entire time. Therefore, I missed all of the usual seasonal drinking. For instance, Christmas Eve, Christmas Day, New Years Eve, and so on. Needless to say, I had the itch to forget how to walk.

Shortly after I woke up I called my friend James and expressed to him my situation. Luckily, he loves alcohol as much as anyone, so he could understand my obvious dismay. I asked him if he could do something about my problem and he simply responded with, "Don't worry, I'll take care of it."

Later on that night I found myself in my buddy James' basement with, as expressed before, enough whiskey to completely sedate a Clydesdale. The night started with me just being typical. I was very happy to be back home, and having fun with my friends. As the night progressed, I kept drinking whiskey, and as anyone that is found of whiskey can attest, the drinks just kept tasting better, regardless of how strong they truly were.

The last thing I remember was demanding a female friend of mine to stop talking and go upstairs....

The next day, I woke up to the phone calls and text messages of my friends. Their messages helped me fill in the gaps of the night as accurately as possible. According to multiple accounts from that night, I was running throughout the basement tackling people, as if I were Terry Tate, in order to spill there drinks. As well as picking a fight with the television set and force-feeding his black Labrador alcohol.

Unfortunately, I had to deal with the repercussions of my alter-ego. This includes apologizing to nearly everyone that was at James' house and inevitably steam vacuuming his entire basement. However, that night has left a lasting impression on most people involved. So much so, that they decided to name my elusive alter-ego...

If you ever find yourself in South Bend, Indiana having a peaceful evening, just drinking with a few of your closest friends and out of no where you get blind sighted by a 5' 11", Caucasian male, that has a strong odor of Canadian Mist. Don't take it personal, you are just another victim of Whiskey Greg.