My drinking problem

Water should be the easiest choice, covering 70 percent of the world after all. But most of that is undrinkable saltwater. For what is left, there is chloramine. Yes, according to the Peninsula residents who are currently protesting the use of the additive in their drinking water, life's basic liquid is no longer quite so basic. One sip of the chloramine-enriched fluid is going to have me sprouting hives, itching rashes, moaning over headaches and generally putting me on a slow road to death. That's a lot to ask from a beverage. I'm just looking to wash down my French fries, not become a walking health experiment.

There is always bottled water but I'm just cynical enough to believe that most comes straight from tap anyway. You can sell just about anything by slapping on a pretty label mentioning its nebulous Arctic glacier source. Besides, it is only a matter of time before scientists discover that the plastic bottles contain some sort of petroleum product or the label glue causes some sort of hallucinations.

Milk, you say? Go with the fat-free, non-hormone-injected stuff just like Mom used to give me with my Cheerios? Ah, but that was before a rocket fuel additive, perchlorate, was detected in 32 milk samples from Northern California. I'm not saying that a little petrol might not give my milk that extra something special; but how good can it really be for my stomach lining not to mention my arteries? If, though, researchers discover that it revs up my metabolism and my energy level better than a Red Bull or a cup of coffee, sign me up. Just don't light any matches while I'm getting my calcium.

And what about coffee? Black would be fine but I'm not burly enough to drink it that way. A little milk is obviously out of the question; a mocha is just courting thyroid problems from the perchlorate-laced milk. An iced mocha? I'm definitely courting death.

Sodas - sugar will rot your teeth and urban legend says that aspartame is a bout of cancer waiting to happen.

All of this distress over libations is enough to warrant a beer. But wait! Beware the carbs! For the equivalent of a frosty pint I might as well inhale a loaf of bread and resign myself to a life of love handles and heart disease. Or, I can take the Atkins plunge and embrace low-carb beers - a travesty for those of us who just don't see the point of them or low-carb sodas or energy drinks. C'mon people; if you're going to embrace a vice, do it all the way.

That is, of course, if I drink my beer at home. I'd have to win the lottery to get drunk at entertainment venues, particularly SBC Park in San Francisco. A 16-ounce brew there averages $7.75, according to a recent look at ballpark prices. Ouch. Maybe rocket fuel or chloramine isn't so bad, after all.

The only answer, it seems, is hard liquor. A little vodka, a little gin. No fuel, no carbs, no chloramine. Just a good, old-fashioned, natural hangover. Just don't have it served on the rocks. And when my boss finds my secret flask tucked in my desk drawer? I'll say it is to help cure my drinking problem.

Michelle Durand's column "Off the Beat" runs every Monday and Sunday. She can be reached by e-mail: michelle@smdailyjournal.com or by phone: (650) 344-5200 ext. 104. What do you think of this column? Send a letter to the editor: letters@smdailyjournal.com.