I Can't Drink -- Don't Ask Me

What's a journey through the Bartender's Guide without drinking?  Something happened, some odd constellation of events, or stars, or whatever makes such things tick, and for the last 39 but who's counting days I can't drink.  It's not for lack of trying, either.  The only drink I've come even close to finishing was a margarita, and that I drank strictly for medicinal purposes (I have aborted more colds with the magical administration of tequila, contreau and lime juice than anyone ever has with chicken soup).  I tried a martini and reared back like a frightened horse; wine made me cringe and turn up my nose like a wine snob; a cold beer after raking leaves was almost appealing, but not enough to make me want to drink a whole one -- so what's a journeywoman to do?  Until something changes, I'll be sipping carrot juice from a beautiful glass at cocktail hour, and that will have to be enough.

In the meantime, I can't drink, so don't ask me, but I'll still dance at the drop of a dime.