Life can make you thirsty; and I don’t mean ice-water thirsty. I mean “Bring me the bottle” thirsty. I’ve been thirsty today, but it’s all about the cranberry juice. Wince and bear it, instead of wine and beer it. Why for? Well, it has long been my policy not to drink while experiencing emotional upheaval.

But I think about it.


Kind of a lot.

Many of the things I don’t do, I don’t do because I hadn’t done them by the time I turned nineteen, when I suddenly and irrevocably became a mom-person. I was so naive and unpolluted at the age when this befell, it was rather sad. I mean, I hadn’t even started the coffee habit.

Being a mother doesn’t make you a saint by any stretch of the imagination, but anyone with a semi-developed sense of responsibility will make a good faith effort not to become an alcoholic, a gambler, a smoker, a prostitute or a junkie once they have a wiggling Jr. blinking up at them with that steadfast, gooshie-faced gaze.

So anyway, I had a pretty dry twenties. It wasn’t boring, (croup? diapers? the terrifying hierarchy of soccer moms?) but it was dry. And so, it is with anticipation that I await the day my child is off to college, and I can begin an elaborate regression into recreational hydration and substance abuse.

Mid-life Goals:

I will smoke unfiltered marlboros from the fake-stone patios of seedy tourist traps.

I will trade-in my whole grain breakfasts for colorful shooters and highballs.

I will adopt such an advanced caffeine regimen, that the pace of my heart-beat will actually make time slow down.

People who pass me in closed spaces will experience first-hand the phenomenon of a ‘contact-high‘.

Understand that such commitment to personal addiction doesn’t just develop overnight. You have to want it. You have to want it bad.

And I do- I want my beautiful, golden Tequila Sunrise thank you, pack it on a Moscow Mule. I’m not a handy-glam, but show me the Screwdriver. Brandy and Soda? Only on church days. Bring me your Dubonnet Manhattans, your Long Island Teas, and if you forget my Bombay Smash, for heaven’s sake, Mister Mixer, you best come back with a straw-specked aquarium.

Whiskey Curacao Fizz, I don thee ‘Christmas’. (No one at this keyboard is going to remember New Years.)

Yes. Uh huh. That’ll be the life…

Just 8 years, 3 months, and 4 hours to go.

What’s your favorite drink? “Spill.” For now I will live vicariously through the debauchery of others. Tell me. Be explicit. And don’t forget the lime.


8 thoughts on “Tequila!

  1. Well my dear, I belive we are kindred spirits but on the opposite side of the same tunnell. I am 19. I am already perpetually hungover and I when I woke up this morning everything tasted like weed. I don’t have a single favourite drink because there are so many great drinks for so many different occasions so heres a list.
    1. As a standard, a good pint of blackest Guinness in a tiny pub in the middle of nowhere will make you cry, so moved you’ll be by its beuty.
    2. 4 o’clock in the morning when you’re too drunk and stoned to stand straight-Whiskey Time! Black Bush on the rocks in a big glass, it feels good to start shouting at this point
    3. Hair of the dog: Miller, clean crisp and wholesome for all the family
    4. Clubing? Liquid Cocaine! The ultimate suicide shot: 1 part tequila, 1 part golshlagger and one part sambuka. Repeat this 5 or six times in quick succession and you can make people drunk just by standing next to them
    5. House parties: its a classic, unique to Dublins financially impaired student class(or underage people who think their tough)-Dutch Gold! Oh Dutchy you are so good to me

    I hope this helps in your quest for alcoholism, its certainly worked for me

  2. Rua- Wow, that is comprehensive. Thanks for writing it out. The liquid cocaine certainly does sound like a top-notch polluter.

    Now I can’t help but go unavoidably mom-like, after reading this. You are careful, yes? Designated drivers. Your tolerance level is probably impressive, but take care of you and don’t overdose; always have good friends with you when self-medicating. I had to fret a bit, you see, cus you said you were 19. If you were 38 I’d just say ‘Cheers’.

  3. Beer-wise, I’ll always have an emotional attachment to Courage Director’s Bitter, which was a staple for my fellow pubcrawlers and me during a semester in London back in the ’80’s. It’s been over 20 years since I’ve had it, though, so the memory may be better than the reality. These days, it’s hard to beat a cool (not cold) Sam Adams here in the states.

    Kicking it up a notch or three, chilled Wild Turkey 101, straight up.

  4. Any kind of IPA (because I’m such a hop head). Margaritas, but only those made by a good friend who is generous when pouring the tequila and likes to experiment on his friends by trying out various recipes until we’re all so drunk and silly that nobody remembers which recipe was best (because at that point, they’re ALL good).

    On a hot summer day, gin & tonic made with Bombay Sapphire gin. And, as you said, “don’t forget the lime.”

    When I’m feeling flush with money and decadent (doesn’t happen as often as I’d like), a good champagne or single malt scotch.

    Moonshine made by a friend in West Virginia is good for knocking you on your ass in no time at all.

    Looking at this list, I wonder if I’ll make it to my 50th birthday next year.

  5. Oh, you’ll certainly see your fiftieth bash, and be able to celebrate it in style if this is any indication.

    I love the word ‘Moonshine’. It gives a sort of mystic, Ozark-y feel to the act of fermentation.

  6. So, here I am, up late at night because I’m on holiday and this is really my last chance to do this because this was my children’s last day of school and I won’t be able to take blissful afternoon naps which result in late night insomnia and I decide that I’ll come online and investigate the hilarious guy that I discovered a few days ago.

    And, what happens? I come here. I look at your site and it appears that as far as this site goes, you’re even more of a rank newbie than I am! I’d prepared some kind of comment claiming that I had an unfair advantage on you in that all the stuff about me that you might want to investigate just isn’t here and worse yet isn’t even available anywhere anymore (unless it is still findable on the wayback machine) because out of paranoia about nutjob stalkers (although really, if you do a search on “BONGO MIRROR” and “stalk” you won’t find very many hits), I hid it all. And, so I don’t get a pleasant evening reading the entire blog of some stranger until my eyes start dribbling blood.

    And, then, I discover that there’s a high probability that you’re female. I have no idea at all what to do with that information. My thinking is ignore it and keep reading. Besides, you could just be pretending to be female. Or, you have decided to do an f2m after having had a child. I am slightly disappointed though. I thought I encountered a man whose sense of humour matched mine in the way that makes me laugh one of those giggly laughs where I even make a little bit of noise (though not much because laughter is one of those social phenomenon like eye contact that doesn’t really work in the slightest through fiber-optic cable even though you’d think it would since those cables do carry light).

  7. best shy away from great numbers of consecutive days consuming copious quantities of whiskey in any variety.. or tequilla for that matter.

    else you too run the risk of waking up bare-ass naked in the middle of the aviary, face down in the dirt, surrounded by cops with a really bad hangover and a peacock feather up your ass.

    (Hell for all i know the foo-foo drinks could be enough for a lightweight like you so just watch your ass and leave your keys.. and your feathers.. with a friend)

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