True story. Actually, I can conjure my inner a-hole as needed. I try to save “him” for the weekend but certain occasions call for a little sphincterish sphinchtering. Yes, my inner a-hole is a man. Women have enough to do without assholing. Why do we save “everything” for the weekend? I can’t be sure. Aren’t we supposed to live every day like it’s our last? Have you seen my FB feed? I’d be dead by Tuesday. Because when I live...I LIVE! Lookout Rose’ and Taco Bell…errrry day is Fat Girl Friday round her’. Lately I’ve been trying to keep the social nonsense to the weekend. By social nonsense I mean drinking. What’s the point of being a writer if you can’t make shit sound better. I’ve been partaking in a little too much “Social Nonsense” as of late. A friend of mine once asked me what people do between 5pm and 7pm if they don’t drink. I thought this to be a very “You might have a drinking problem if” kind of question back then. Now I find myself wondering the same damn thing. For the non kid crowd that lives in a resort beach area this is totally a legit question. I get it…if you live in suburbia with 4.2 kids, you most likely live the normal….dinner bedtime routine between 5-7. Let me tell you what the rest of us are doing….Haaaaaay!
It’s summertime. It’s Rosaaaay, Chardonaaaaaay and Pinot Grisio-aaaaaay season. Sorry I don’t care for any other whiteish wines so I took some liberties with the Pinot Grigio. Scratch that. I love Sancerre but you can’t find a damn bottle under 30 bucks. Gets expensive. So I cheap whore my way through white season. Call me a wine racist. Don’t care. I already told you I’m an asshole. It’s just so good! All cold and lovely. I fear someone has a problem….mmmmkaay. I tell “Myself” I can only drink on the weekend. “Myself” doesn’t like that. Sometimes “Myself” wants to drink on Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday and even Sunday. Overachiever. Then “Myself” says, “Just have a glass.” To be clear, the bottle is the glass. Trickery. Anyone who drinks whiteish wine knows the odds are stacked against you. Tell me why the bottle doesn’t have a “Chug Warning?” I mean…do we really need the birth defect warning? I’m guessing if you’re with child you might know drinking isn’t a great plan. So let’s say expectant mothers represent 2% of wine drinkers. Let’s talk about the 98% who are knockin’ back a bottle a night….mmmmmkay. It’s moist outside. What better way to cool off than with a bottle of dry whiteish wine? Perhaps they should put that on the label. They don’t need to. We know.
This week I gave myself a “2-day chip.” That means I made it through Monday and Tuesday sans wine. Yeah me! I slept fantastic and woke up with normal morning breath as opposed to Rose all Day breath. IYKYK. I remember running with that same friend back in the day. She always smelled like last nights wine. I use to think “Gosh, how much wine do you have to drink to have it on your breath 8 hours later?” Allow me to answer that…not much. It’s the closest I’ve come to being French. Hump Day brought “Myself” back for a brief appearance. 2 day chip…1 day blip. So far Thursday is going well. Back on the weekday wagon. Tomorrow is Friday. No need to gas up. The wagon’s going to be parked for a few days. I downloaded this book on why we drink. Why I thought this was a good idea I can’t be sure. Never wise to listen to a book where you could play the main character lol. So I downloaded a book about a girl who murdered her friend. I definitely won’t be doing that. Much better.
Yeh so most of us “want” to be social drinkers. “Let’s meet for a cocktail.” It sounds so….Cary Grant in a martini bar kind of cool. More like chugging beer at Buffalo Wild Wings but…. The problem is, we went from having a “cockie” (my husband hates when I say that so I threw it in for effect) after a long day to blow off some steam to inventing reasons to have more and more cockies. Now I’m a girl who loves cockie as much as the next so I’m throwing myself under the bus with you….mmmkay. The dogs birthday, Little Friday, Bastille Day, Bank Day, Rainy day. Any old day will do. We are celebratory assholes! Why? Tell me you don’t do and say things you wish you hadn’t while knee deep in the nip. Tell me you don’t sleep like shit and wake up at 3am (official liver time) sweating. Tell me you don’t eat your weight in carbs the next day. Tell me there aren’t huge gaps in your memory that your friends are more than happy to fill in for you. If only there were a wine that didn’t come with so much baggage. Come on French people….get crackin’! Vin sans bagage! It’s got a ring to it! White, red…I don’t care. Start pumping it out!
Listen…I aint mad at you. We are all just big fat assholes on the weekend and sometimes the weekdays. We should do what makes us happy. Life is about enjoyment! If you enjoy a good cockie, swallow at your own risk! I aint here to offer advice. If you are someone who struggles with alcohol and wants to stop drinking, there are plenty of resources to help you. I have mad respect for all that have taken the journey to sobriety. Stay strong and keep it up! You are the Simone Biles of the world…strong, kicking ass and working hard every day. I applaud you. I have more of a Tonya Harding style of commitment myself. I got mad skills but I like to play dirty from time time. I’m an asshole. But only on the weekend….or something.