50 Reasons Not To Drink & Drive

Sometimes when I’m drunk, I think that I’m sober enough to drive, so
I keep a list of all my past drinking and driving experiences, so that
if I find myself in the same situation, I’ll know it’s time to call a
cab.

If I have more than one Irish car bomb, tequila shot, think Southern
Comfort tastes good, try to sleep with a midget, mud wrestle Anna
Nicole Smith, text all my ex-girlfriends, throw-up, smoke half a pack
of cigarettes, pee in the parking lot, on my best friend, call the
parents of my eighth grade sweetheart, fight the USC Swim team, or
think that chewing gum, sucking on a penny, or that the Polo Sport
cologne I used in the bathroom of the Spearmint Rhino strip club might
actually get me out of a DUI, I know I shouldn’t drive.

If I give myself a field sobriety test, recite the alphabet
backwards starting with the letter “A,” need all my windows down, the
air conditioning on, Danzig blasting, and it’s the middle of the
winter, then I know I shouldn’t drive.

If I do a keg stand, break open a booze filled pinata, throw lit
matches at people, crave a 4 pound steak burrito past midnight,
tailgate, the word slut is written across my forehead, throw myself
down a bowling lane, have sex in public, drag race, road trip to
Atlantic City, play beer pong, asshole, quarters or any other type of
drinking game, get an oriental massage, worry that a cop is going to
pull me over, dive tackle hedges, launch fireworks naked, profess my
love for Cyndi Lauper, and of course pass out naked with a smiley face
written across my ass, then I know I shouldn’t drive.

Think off all the times that you’ve driven when you know you
shouldn’t have, and then make your own list, you might be surprised.