3 posts tagged “booze”
Friday night, my sis and pseudo-sis-in-law (and a few of her friends, cus I mooch off of other people's friends) went to an anticipated Happy Hour. My first, by the way. It was fun. I had a martini, which, per my friend's warning, did a sneak attack. Despite the buffalo wings, with bleu cheese dipping sauce, I was a bit loopy and dancing in my chair to the live band's version of Billy Jean and other various awesome songs.
I stepped away from the table to use the restroom, and three things happened:
- I discovered the unity between women who have also had a martini, or other drink of choice. While I wasn't over the top, and the other women STANDIN' IN THA LINE FOR THA BAFFFROOOM weren't either, we shared a connection. We all smiled and complimented each others respective good-looking-ness, and acknowledged each other's respective long weeks that deserves a Friday evening happy hour. It was awesome.
- We discussed the Laker's.
- My sis and pseudo-sis-in-law plotted for them to manage a way to get me to go out (again) with them later that night. They made calls, and fenagled babysitting for me.
Fast forward a few hours, and my sis, pseudo-sis, sis' friends (2 different friends this time - still not my own, thus I continue the friend-mooching), and pseudo-sis looks me in my eyes and says, "Goldie. I forgot my ID."
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Ok.
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So, she attempts to get in, but of the group of us, she looks the youngest and is the shortest (but has the biggest butt, which isn't relevant, but I'm jealous). The bouncer denies access and we trek back to the car. Did I mention I'd changed into five inch heels and a gold greek Goddess looking tank top. Key words here being: five-inch-heels and tank top. Cus San Francisco is hilly and it was kinda drizzly. The martini I'd had earlier had worn off by then.
But. All was good. It would have been fun to go out, but I was kinda pooped. We ended up going home, stopping at a Jack in the Box, and going back home.
With regard to Jack in the Box, they stopped serving tomatoes, and instead, I think they were using tomato paste or something, cus I bit into my sourdough burger thing and the ketchup seemed mighty thick. But, I didn't care. Cus I was hungry, it was late, it was cold and all I wanted was the three-times-re-heated sourdough burger thingy to warm my frigid soul. It worked! I went home, called the aforementioned friend, and went to sleep.
Even though we didn't get into tha club, I had a good time with my sis, pseudo-sis and mooched-friends.
I wonder if a Corona popsicle would be as delicious as I'm imagining it would.
ps. J&T - I gave Maya extra water and left a fan on for her.
It's one of my fabulous neighbor's 21st birthday and it reminded me of my 21st birthday celebration (term used loosely).
When I turned 21, I went to the local 7-11. To buy booze. Classssss$ss$$y booze. You know, Mike's Hard Lemonade ... the red one.
This was a big deal. I didn't drink back then. Like, never. Ever. My co-worker's offered me booze at the holiday Christmas party and I turned it down. My boss even tried to get me to drink some. To no avail. I was straight edge. Not a glass of wine. Not a can of beer. Not a sip of anything. It wasn't a big deal, it just wasn't something I did.
Until I turned 21.
I get to 7-11, pick out the Hard Lemonade, go to the counter, get ID'd, piddle my pants while giddily fiddlying for my ID, and hand my proof of being 21 to the guy behind the counter. I excitedly tell him, "It's my birthday. I'm 21 today."
He looks at my ID, looks at the 'you must be born on this date to buy booze/smokes' calendar, looks at me,
looks at the ID,
looks at me.
Then hands me back my ID. And apologizes.
Well, whatever for? There's nothing to be sorry for on this momentous occasion. This coming of age. This once in a lifetime, first booze-buying experience. There is only happiness to be had on this very day. The only apologies to be had are to my employer for being late the next morning due to the hangover I'm bound to have from this single Mike's Hard Lemonade, and to McDonald's for buying up their stock in "egg"-n-"sausage" McMuffins I'm bound to buy the next morning to combat my massive impending hangover I'm bound to have from this.one.single.Mike's.Hard.Lemonade. Oh, and the apologies that I'm gonna have to make for all the drunk dialing I'm bound to due from drinking this one...single...Mike's...Hard...Lemonade.
7-11 clerk: I'm sorry. I can't sell you this to you.
Goldie: Um. Why not?
7-11 clerk: (there are no words from him at this point. just pitiful hand gestures and body movements) *shrugs* then *points to date on ID and date on calendar*
Goldie: Oh. But, see, it's my birthday today. I'm 21. To.Day. See?
7-11 clerk: *shakes head no*
Goldie: I don't get it. I'm 21 today.
7-11 clerk: *stands back a bit in a stance that can only be deemed The Final Decision And Don't Give Me Any Trouble stance*
Goldie: Um. Ok.
I left. I'm sure he thought I was some narc or something. Like I was waiting for him to hand me the booze and then I slap cuffs on him. Maybe I was just a little TOO excited about being 21. He didn't want to risk it. To his credit: I did seem a bit anxious. Maybe he wasn't sure if it was ON THE DATE of the person's birthday or AFTER their birthday that they were, in fact, 21. To my credit: midnight constitutes one's birthday. But after that occurrence, I was genuinely confused. Like, "Am I really 21? Have I, and others, gone through life thinking you turn a year older at midnight on the day of your birthday or are you only 21 at 12:01 the next day?!"
I felt so dejected. And moted. And sober.
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