Today The Morning Show did an eye-opening report into a new trend called "Drunkorexia." And by eye-opening I mean pretty superficial, and by "new" I mean "roughly as new as the discovery of fire" and I am clipping it here anyway because it's been a long time since I talked about my drinking problem. The sad thing is, I've been so tired lately that I barely have one anymore, which explains why I passed up yesterday's chance to talk about how I only drink because I'm so evolved. I actually realized the other day that in order to maintain my drinking problem I would actually have to acquire a coke problem, but every time I have tried coke some little intestinal buzzer goes off and says, "Ohhhhh, no you don't! Go back to beer! Have a piece of pizza! Shit, have a martini! Anything that will put you to sleep! Sleep! Sleep now! Don't do this!" And that's why I'll never be skinny, or, for that matter, a drunkorexic.

Because as much as I like scotch, I've never been able to down four or five of them without getting that "falafel NOW or you are going to be both mentally paralyzed AND bloated from all the fried potato products you'll need to function tomorrow morning." Which is why, like the highly evolved Jezebel dieter I am, I choose beer.

Alcohol — Ancient Medicine (Enjoy In Moderation) [NY Times]