Seriously, I have a split personality when it comes to the "tequila". Just one smidgen, and the tragedy is on. One drink, just one, has forced me to move to new cities to protect my honor. Mechanical bull stripping, the accidental blowjobs, sleeping with the boss, not to mention the inevitable injuries from when I try to prove I can do anything. I always seem to leave the party laughing, but wake up with mysterious bruises and memories of cartwheels, climbing trees and swimming all nake laked. Eek!
I don’t know how it happens. I walk in, all put together and polite and Barbied out. I remember this part. The several hour gotta-get-ready fest to look hot, the well-intentioned, but futile attempt to make smart plans to combat my drunken ridiculousness.
The next task is harder. It takes years to master the skill of the purse. The hiding of IDs, money, cards, cab tickets, lipstick, house and car keys, smokes, first aid kit, gum, your best friends cat and a lighter in a skimpy bar star outfit while wearing killer shoes is SO not easy. I am like Mary f-in Poppins in a tube top when I am done.
Yeah, that’s just me being awesome! I rarely have to wait in line, I know the DJ, the waitress and the bouncers. And they know me, plus, they know I am there to dance. It’s an instant in. For a girl that gets cold easily, it’s an imperative. Smile pretty and start dancing. That’s it. That’s the money. $$.
You see, dancing in a club is money for the bar. The more girls dancing, the more boys that buy product. If the energy is good, people have a good time. They escape into the vibe and forget. Blissfully forget their problems for a night of debauchery.
Somehow in a time space warp continuum of lost hours, the music stops. 15 more shots to the wind or so, one of two things happen to me before the hangover. It’s completely involuntary. I stagger out all Train Wreck Barbie horny as get up. Now what is a girl to do?
The shallow hook up?
Or, the ill advised attempt to sleep it off, and then wake up more trashed than before approach?
I’m not a spring chicken anymore. Partying is work, and you have to pay for it. For each year over 25, add at least 4 hours of hangover. But that’s just the way of tequila. She takes you fast, and she rides you hard.
Now, don’t get me wrong. I have nothing against the other liquors. I have had reasonable nights of philosophical discussion on the beer, vodka, rum, gin and wine. Heck, even combos of these items have been okay.
But, listen well, good readers and learn from my mistake,
Just because its Gluten Free doesn’t mean it’s good for you.