I never imagined that Danny DeVito and I would have anything in common other than our adoration of George Clooney, but after seeing DeVito's bad behavior on The View recently, I felt a kinship with him that I never expected to experience. "I knew it was the last seven Limoncellos that was going to get me," he slurringly told Rosie, Barbara, et al., and I felt his pain. I, too, have had disastrous experiences with Limoncello -- although sadly, I was not over-imbibing with George Clooney, as DeVito had been the night before. Years ago, when Campo de Fiori first opened in this basement spot in Cherry Creek and I was still unfamiliar with the sweet/tart digestive elixir, I became a victim of Limoncello's dangerous, Clooney-like magnetism. The drink seemed as harmless and cuddly as DeVito, like tiny shots of sunshine in a glass. A lemon liqueur produced in the south of Italy from lemon zest, alcohol, water and sugar, when served very cold -- as it should be -- Limoncello tastes like very sweet, viscous lemonade. But it's treacherously high in alcohol (the aromatic lemon elements are leached from the peel by the alcohol; theoretically, the higher the proof of the alcohol used, the better). It took me years to recover from the effects of my first Limoncello night, but the master mixologists at Campo gave me good reason to try it again: the Li Martini ($8), made with Limoncello, Grey Goose Le Citron vodka, a splash of lemonade and triple sec. Surrounded by fellow Limoncello lovers and enjoying a renewed zest for life, I joked with the server that this drink was so potent, a second round should include a free call to Louie De Palma at Sunshine Cab Company -- who, with any luck, will drive me straight to George Clooney. Good night and good luck.