11AM, Sunday morning. Alan is channel-surfing. On Food Network, "Guy's Big Bite" is starting.

"Wait, go back!" I cried. "I want to watch that!"

"Why?" asked Alan. "That guy's a total douchenozzle."

"I know. I want to use him for a drinking game, like back in college. Every time he says 'bad boys', I'm gonna take a slug of beer. 'That's money' is a shot of vodka. Red wine for every 'downtown' and white wine for 'prime time'. Oooh, and a snort of MacAllen to start if he's wearing his sunglasses on the back of his fat neck."

"You can't do that!" said Alan, appalled. "I don't care if you are Irish, you'll be passed out by 11:20!"

Bah. He never lets me have any fun.