I'm going to stop drinking for the time being.
Friday night I had 1.5 drinks at a pub near my new San Fran crash pad. It was going to be just a single red tropical cocktail, but an hour later Kevin's friend asked me, "Another round?" I said, "Not for me, thanks," which he took to mean yes. He came back with another drink in the same shape glass, same pineapple garnish, but bright orange instead.
I didn't want it to go to waste, so I drank half of it.
Saturday night I had a sangria at dinner with Omar & Neha & Matthias.
Apparently the atrocity of drinking on two consecutive days was too much for my weak Asian alcohol-processing liver. It doesn't matter that I had only 1 or 1.5 drinks each night. My body has let me know that this kind of rampant behavior will NOT BE TOLERATED.
Today (Sunday), I woke up and laid unmoving in bed (or rather, my sleeping bag on the floor of my crash pad) for 30 minutes. Summoning the strength to get up to take a shower was a Herculean effort.
My payment for drinking isn't headaches or vomiting or weeping -- it's to become a hunk of unmoving iron for the next day.
I was riding the Muni on my way back to Mountain View this afternoon, and I caught a glimpse of my reflection against the window when we entered a tunnel. The dark circles under my eyes jumped out, to a degree that terrified the vain side of me.
Further alarming the vain part is the fact that I felt very bloated all day. Of course, I googled as to whether drinking makes you fat. Half the web pages say definitely! It increases cortisol which directs fat to your belly! The other half say absolutely not, and in fact makes you lose weight, because it increase metabolic rate and also decreases consumption of sugar.
The second one is probably not right, as I have the metabolic rate of a slug right now. (Sorry to all slugs.)
In any case, I'm going to avoid this situation for a while. It may lead to some interesting questioning, in modern American partying-equals-drinking society.