Androgyny to Alka Seltzer

I love androgyny. Men who look like women, women who look like men, individuals who could go either way, I think it's fantastic. This is primarily because androgyny remains fantastically attractive while still confusing the everliving fuck out of people. In my opinion, this is the best kind of attractive you can possibly be. People need lines blurred occasionally. It builds character. There is also a kind of defiance inherent in androgyny. You're very visually not pinned down within a gender role, you just are who you are. That kind of freedom and individualistic beauty is something that often appeals to people who want to challenge their society's standard perception of the world. Let me just amend that to say, awesome people.
Performers sometimes use androgyny to challenge those perceptions and make a rebellious statement, for better or for worse. For better, David Bowie during his Ziggy Stardust period. For worse, Marilyn Manson with breasts. Go on, try to get that image out of your mind. No, pouring soap in your ears won't help. No amount of hopeless clawing at the sides of your head will erase the pale, grey, nipple-less.. You know, I'm probably not helping here. Moving on. Other things performers sometimes do include mass amounts of substances that might kill them. Many of these things are illegal, but one of them that isn't is alcohol.
Not to encourage irresponsible alcohol consumption, but during the actual drinking stage of its usage, that shit is awesome. Note that I say it's awesome during the actual drinking stage. There is a point at which consuming alcohol suddenly ceases to be awesome and rapidly becomes the worst thing you have ever done, ever. This is the point directly between when you tell that impossibly attractive person that you really, really love bratwurst in a near romantic sense and the moment when you realize that the blindingly white death bubble you were gazing into is actually a toilet bowl and what you assumed was the shrieking of a thousand damned and suffering souls undergoing similar punishment to your own is actually your friends debating whether or not you're going to die in their bathroom. From that point onward, alcohol ceases to be your friend. It may have been engaged in a romantic, dizzying tango with your brain, but at that point it switches partners to begin the forbidden dance of death with your liver, and like any awful chaperone you will regret leaving them alone together for the rest of the night.
After that point, you do not want to think about what will happen in the morning. The morning after a night like that is what Alka Seltzer was invented for.
Plop, plop, fizz, fizz, feel what real damnation is.

Captain Crunch to Curling.