| The art of the flaming shot |
[Oct. 30th, 2005|08:57 am] |
The following story is true, if you don't think it makes me look like an idiot, and made up if you do think it makes me look like an idiot.
After knowing my friends for three years, I have somehow gotten it into my head that I can trust them. Now I am not so sure.
I was in my room last night, sober (which probably only makes the story worse), and there was a small gathering going on out in my common room, and I heard them all calling my name, so I went outside. They were all gathered around the bar (Yes, we have a bar, no, I'm not an alcoholic). They all call me over, and they're like "Do it! Do it!" and indicate a flaming shot on the bar.
So I'm all, "I'm skeptical, both because it's on fire, and because of the chance that it will singe off my facial hair."
So the guy behind the bar, the friend the rest of us affectionately refer to as "Dad" due to the fact that he makes sure the rest of us make it to all of the meetings and classes we're supposed to go to, and the one I assume is at least somewhat responsible, assures me it's ok.
He tells me what to do - put my hand down on top of the shot to put it out, then take it.
Well the part of this situation I was not introduced to ahead of time was the fact that they had tried to convince everyone else in the room to do it before calling me out. And the shot had been lit the entire time.
And the glass was HOT.
So I put my hand down on it, and it burned, and due to the suction from putting my hand down on it, it stuck. And it burned some more.
Long story short, I now have a circular brand on my hand to remind me never to do that again. |
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