Well, the bewildered look on his face as I was walk-dancing away was somewhere in between "where's my shotgun, I'm gonna kill that boy" and "where's my lap dance?". I decided to err on the side of caution, so as to certainly live another day.

That being said, I think that the next time you and Travis get married, I won't attempt to fulfill my drink quota. The excel sheet was probably the best drinking motivator I've seen in quite some time, even if Travis might not have understood the implications of telling me my drink number (lol, akin to sleep number but opposite, I'd say). Also, I'll have fond memories of your mother forevermore every time I hear "Pour Some Sugar on Me".