It's not the side-effects of her cooking.

The story:

In 1977 I was sitting in a garden cafe on Castro
Street in San Francisco with a bunch of other
teenagers and twenty-somethings. We were singing
along to the music playing over the loudspeakers.
The sun was shining and the reefer was passed
about. David Bowie's "Station To Station" began
playing. We all knew all the words and we sang
along . . . and then it happened . . . everyone
was holding their coffee cups in the air singing:
"Drink, drink, raise your glass, raise your glass
high . . . "
The rhythm of the music changed for the next line
and everyone sang "It's not the side-effects of
the cocaine . . . "

Except me! I sang "It's not the side-effects of
her cooking . . . "

Everyone first went silent and then burst out
laughing about my gaffe.