On Tuesday, September 10, 1996, I turned 21 years old. At 10:30 p.m., I met several of my friends at the Heidelberg in Columbia, and proceeded to do very nasty things to my liver.
I brought my sketchbook with me to keep a record of that night's occurrences. These were the rules: After each shot, I would sign my name, write down what the shot was, the time I took it, who gave it to me, and then draw a picture of Edgar the dragon--one of my characters from my comic strip.
There are a couple instances (on the third page) where my good friend Sarah took my pencil and jotted down some of the stupid things I said while reveling in my insobriety.
It's kind of neat to see how alcohol progressively (or regressively) affects one's drawing ability. I highly recommend that any cartoonist out there try this as an experiment. Just try not to take it to the extreme that I did (11 shots in about one-and-a-half hours).
Just for the record, I threw up 13 times, sang Bon Jovi songs into the toilet, and had a monster hangover on the morning of September 11.