misAdventures of Workmonkey 3.0

At a social engagement last night, it was suggested to me (perhaps in jest?) that a perfect way to celebrate my upcoming thirty-second birthday would be an attempt to grapple with either the Power Hour or Century Club. The Power Hour, of course, is an alcoholic drinking game popular among our nation's youth, involving the consumption of a single shot of beer (1.5 ounces) every minute for sixty minutes. The more ambitious, professional version of this game (to be considered only upon mastery of the Power Hour) is referred to as the Century Club, in which consumption of said shots of beer continues for 100 minutes instead of only 60. Although the metric system, and corresponding equations, are not my area of specialty, basic research has revealed that at that rate of consumption, you will essentially be asked to imbibe 8 or 9 beers in the allotted time. Certainly doable, albeit some important choices need to be made, primarily the choice of beer (the lighter and least carbonated the better) and choice of food.

Psychologically, the reasons for a 32-year-old professional male to make an attempt at filling his stomach with beer at a measured rate for 100 minutes isn't particularly complex. I am making an obvious attempt to eschew what I see as "adulthood" through my involvement with so-called "juvenile" games. It is a way to take a break from my forced marriage to maturity by throwing myself into the minefields of immaturity. On a lesser level, it is also a matter of redemption. As I spent half of college attending to the needs of my Seventh-Day Adventist roommate, I had a stunted and unfulfilling college experience, which is why to this day I am holding off full acceptance of adulthood (which I see as hideously boring anyway) as long as socially acceptable. Even further, this is an exercise in self-discovery: particularly, am I biological developed enough to accomplish the consumption and absorption of 9 beers in 100 minutes? This isn't a matter of bragging or accomplishment. I'd feel no particular strength if I am in fact able to accomplish this task. It'd be no more or less rewarding than being able to pick a fantastic booger from my nose every minute for 100 minutes. It is simple curiosity. It is a challenge, and no matter how seemingly empty, it is a challenge I am challenged by.

Let me not fail to mention there's the all-important desire to absolutely destroy Lee's attempt at the century club, which ended upon shot 37 (which by my math is about 3 beers worth), though I doubt I'll find that difficult.

If I do decide upon this adventure, I figure I'll post blogs updates every ten minutes or so, to track the progress of alcohol on my writing. I could try something more appropriate for my age, such as finally tackling a Leo Tolstoy book or attempting to grow a spice garden, but this seems the Century Club might make for a better blog. Besides, I work each day, every day, and will for years and years. That is enough adulthood to suit me for a lifetime. It is time to balance things out, and pay homage to the beauty and simplicity of the irresponsible, and consequently enjoyable, acts of youth.