The Ginandtacos.com Intoxication Scale
We at Ginandtacos.com encourage you to drink heavily and as often as possible. However, we understand the potentially undersirable state of intoxication that drinking usually leads to. Want to stay sober? Not sure if you're drunk or not? Considering driving but not sure if you're able? Consult the following scale to measure your level of shitfacedness.
Level 1– Self-esteem building. Pants still on. Voice still at normal volume. Sentences coherent. Food staying down. You're as sober as the Fundamentalist Christian kids down the hall. You're fine. Get in the car and drive, you pansy.
Level 2– Feeling warm. A teensy-bit buzzed. Laughing a little louder than usual. You're not drunk, but you're on the path.
Level 3– Dancing freely and openly. Everything tastes good. Talking very loudly. Your own jokes make you laugh as though you invented the concept of comedy. Still in control of your faculties, but don't get in a car, numbnuts, because you're officially drunk.
Level 4– Slurring like a retard. Drinking stuff you wouldn't normally touch. Obese, slovenly members of the opposite sex are starting to look reeeaaall good to you. Bury your keys at this point, you lush.
Level 5– Almost totally gone. If you're male, you're in a fight. If you're female, you're calling someone a slut or whore. Standing and walking require intense concentration. You will feel like death warmed over tomorrow morning.
Level 6– Gone. Trashed. Vomiting copiously. Vocal expression reduced to mumbling. Walking no longer an option. Nothing you say to anyone makes any sense. Fortunately, you won't remember any of it.
Level 7– Slow down there, Boris. Beyond gone. Telling everyone in room that you love them. Frequent crude passes at members of opposite sex. Pants off. Passing out is imminent. Will have no memory of this evening whatsoever.
Level 8– Whoa. Total loss of inhibition and control. If you can still move, you're probably fucking an appliance or something inanimate. Heroic vomiting, mostly stomach acid or painful dry heaves. If your friends liked you, they'd take you home or put you to bed at this point.
Level 9– Danger zone. Fall asleep on stomach, not back, to prevent dying like Hendrix. Awake but hazy. Pissing and/or shitting in pants. Mind, mouth, and memory cease functioning. Will pass out any second, thankfully.
Level 10– Jesus Harold Christ. Death imminent. Call priest, rabbi, and doctor. Make out last will and testament on napkin with lipstick. Body expelling fluids every way it knows how. Are you proud of yourself? Were those last 6 shots of gin worth it? Damn straight they were. You are one hardcore motherfucker. You are also going to be one sick motherfucker when you wake up. 16 hours from now. And introduce yourself to the person you slept with. And wonder where the hell you are.