Whiskey, Liver Pills, and Drunken Bike Riding - A Scientific Inquiry

(This is the first in a series of installments chronicling my new life in Chicago)

Since I've arrived in Chicago, I've enjoyed the leisurely lifestyle of a kept man. Lori is swiftly climbing the corporate ladder (if a family owned homeopathic apothecary can be called corporate) at work. This affords me the luxury of concentrating on my studies, catching up on my day time television, and meticulously keeping tabs on people I don't care the slightest bit about via Facebook.
However, my life is not all Gilmore Girl re-runs and snarky comments about peoples' Facebook pictures. Occasionally I'm called on to serve as a guinea pig for a new product that just arrived at Lori's store. Usually this entails sampling a new organic shampoo or taking a pill that purports to cleanse a colon. Most of the time I simply give a lukewarm endorsement of the product and turn back to the television. However, last weekend I was introduced to a product I thought I could really get behind. On Saturday, before a night of revelry, Lori asked me to take Livercare, a product that allegedly eliminates hangovers. After giving it some careful consideration, I decided that it was my duty, in the name of science, to get as drunk as humanly possible to put the bold claims of the manufacturer to the test.
I knew for this experiment to work, I needed a control (I'm sure somewhere Mr. Herbert, my 10th grade chemistry teacher, is proud of my sound scientific method. I'm picturing him in his "mole" costume, giving me a nod of approval as he strokes his whiskers). Fortunately I had a control at my disposal. I made Lori take the Livercare as well and instructed her to not drink too much. After all, to gauge the effectiveness of the pills we needed both an intoxicated and sober sample.
So having downed the pills with the last drops of my fifth Jameson, we headed out to a bar to see the band of a friend of a friend. Aside from being too loud (How old am I?), I was annoyed by the lack of any televisions broadcasting Game 2 of the ALCS. However, I needed to put this annoyance aside if I was to determine the potency of these pills. I only felt slightly buzzed from my pre-game cocktails, so I knew I had to step up my drinking. Rather than slouch to the front of the stage with the hipster clientele, I decided to hang back by the bar to down as many PBR tall boys as I could. The Jameson, PBR, and the dulcet sounds of the band were coalescing nicely to create a beautiful drunken state. Surely we would wake in the morning to draw some serious scientific conclusions.
While I successfully conducted my end of the experiment, Lori unfortunately makes for a lousy control. She matched me beer for beer, and every time I tried to furtively slip away to the bar, she would catch my eye and shake her empty can in my direction. Eventually she would prove her inebriation by crashing her bike while stopped at a red light. I can only imagine what the motorists in their cars thought as I was too consumed with thoughts of our failed experiment to extend a hand to help her off the ground.
So I awoke the next morning with a wicked headache. The miracle pill that I longed for for so long proved to be a failure. On the bright side, I still have luxurious chemical free hair and a clean colon.