Bloke's Guide to Drinking

Introduction
Drinking - A fairly important passtime of the typical bloke. Not just because it gives him a chance to tell lies to his mates, but also because it gives him a chance to HEAR lies from his mates too. And all the while, getting useful and important updates on Rugby, Rugby players and keeping the breweries in business. A bloody noble task.

What to Drink
Beer. Got that? Don't need it repeated? A brief foray into the spirits field is occasionally tolerated when you need to talk to Uncle Jack Daniels or Great Uncle Jim Beam about how upset you are that someone stacked your holden in the carpark of Taumaranui New World when you were getting the monthly load of Baked Beans and Bog Paper.
What not to Drink

Diet BLOODY ANYTHING!

"Designer" Beers. Because you know what designers are don't you? That's bloody right - so they've probably put dangerous additives that do bad things to your mind.

Wine - See the The Blokes Advisor for how to avoid this at office-type functions

Anything with fruit in it. If someone at a Wedding Booze-Up offers you a punch, offer him one back, and don't piss around waiting for an answer..

Drinks with Umbrellas, Fruit or Straws in them. If it can't be put into a handle, it isn't supposed to be drunk. If it's got lots of extra shit in it, it's an ashtray, full stop.

Tequila - Remember what happened the last time? The chainsaw, the tin of paint and the outlaw's garden gnomes? JUST SAY NO! Then say "NO, YA BASTARDS!"

Telling Lies You have to tell lies at the pub. If you didn't tell lies, it wouldn't be worth going, because you'd run out of stories in the first 10 minutes. So, you grab an old story, add 20 km/hr, one element of risk, $50 and one engine enhancement to it and tell it again. For instance:

The Original Story
"So we were driving back from Taupo in John's V6, doing about 110 ks, when this sheep jumps out in front of the car! So John hits the anchors and we go into this slide for about 50 metres, and only JUST clip the sheep and he got away with about 50 bucks damage."
The Next Version
"So we were coming back from Taupo in John's V8, and you know what a bloody madman he is, and we were pulling, oh, about 130 ks, when he sees these couple of sheep on the road. So John hits the picks and we go into this spin and slide about 100 meters and biff one of these sheep HEAD ON and knock it into the ditch. His car was a bit of a mess - must've cost him a hundred bucks or so to get the bastard fixed at mate's rates, but it never drove the same after that..."
And the Final Version...
"So we were screaming back from Wellington in John's scummy Cortina that he'd dropped that huge Chrysler Engine into, and we were doing at least 160 the last time I looked at the clock, and we see this herd of sheep and cows and horses. And a tractor. With two 44 gallon drums of petrol on the transport tray... So John slams on the brakes but of course with that engine in the bloody thing it's about as likely to stop as Dave is from drinking... So anyway, we must have slid about 400 metres - did I mention the hill? - Ah well, it was on the Kaimais because we were going the long way, and so we slid for bloody ages - I had time to open a beer while Dave refilled his Zippo - and then we biffed about 10 sheep, two cows and ended up halfway into the old tractor with the farmer shitting twinkies the whole time, especially as he could probably see Dave thru windscreen testing the Zippo and there was those two drums of petrol on the back.. Anyway the Cortina was a complete bloody write-off and he did about a thousand bucks of damage to the tractor, but what the hell, we hitched a ride back with a couple of sheilas who were passing and heading our way... Score!"

Now maybe the handbrake might pick this juncture to say that you're just talking through a hole in your arse, to which you should just be completely honest and admit that the pressure of your peers has made you inflate an event beyond what it really was and say that it is probably a reflection of your low self esteem. Then two weeks later say "Oh, have you lost 6 kgs overnight then dear?" when she's bullshitting her mates about what she weighs... Fair's bloody fair, after all.

The Dangers of Drinking
Don't be fooled - there are some serious dangers to drinking and it pays up front to realise the early warning signs.
The Dangers of Drinking - Warning Signs
Mental You know you've had too much when you start thinking:

That you really should tell: (A) The bouncer, (B) That weightlifter guy at the bar, or (C) The Rugby team that you beat 63 Nil last week (or, even worse, all three) just how girly they look in their poofy clothes.
How cool it would be to do that trick with the beer glass where you toss it up and catch it behind your back without spilling any
How you could sing much better than the singer in the band, and how much fun it would be to just grab the mike off him and prove it...

Verbal You've had too much when you hear your mouth utter:

(To the boss) YOU KNOW WHAT *YOUR* FARKING PROBLIMM IS?!! (which usually precedes 2 - 3 hours of you telling him/her what his or her problem, in your opinion, is; along with what the problem is with the workplace in general, how everyone else but you is a bunch of XXXXs, and how you're JUST BLOODY SAYING IT BECAUSE IT NEEDS TO BE SAID!).
(To a woman who has not previously engaged your interest) You're beautiful, I love you And is followed shortly thereafter by you chundering all over yourself, pissing your pants, falling asleep or all three of the above. A classy bloke will retain sufficient control to show his true gentlemanly nature by offering the said individual a Kebab or Steak and Cheese pie as a gesture of his good intentions. Then piss his pants, fall asleep etc...
(To some bastard you normally wouldn't cross the road to piss on if he was on fire) You're my best mate! This is one of the most dangerous situations, because you know the prick's going to remember when you've sobered up. Slow down on the beers (Don't stop, YA BIG JESSIE!) and get a couple Steak and Cheese Maggot Packs into you. Then cut the prick loose ASAP.

Physical You're a little out of your alcoholic depth when you notice:

Your legs aren't working as well as they used to.
Your pint glass has been substituted by one an inch shorter which makes it difficult to ensure your glass is touching your mouth before you tip it up.
The floor between your table and the bog is deceptively flat in places, tripping you up as you make your way there.
You cut your name into the Bar/Table top with your knife because you're dead sure that every other bastard's going to want to know you "GOT PISSED HERE 22 OCT 96"