Tag: drinks

Margarita mix

I was passively thinking tonight about margaritas and how much I love them, when I had a sudden memory resurgence.

It started with how my mom and I would be together, eating directly out of the bucket of frozen margarita mix that seemingly lived in our freezer throughout my childhood.

It became a totally normal thing for me to pull the bucket out in any given day, and snag a few bitefuls of the delicious, icy mix…

Basically, then, margarita mix was like my version of ice cream while growing up… it was my regular freezer-housed delight.

Granted, I loved ice cream.

However, the margarita mix was more of a regular deal, because, even though I would have only a few bites at time, I would have it on many more occasions than I would have ice cream.

You know… I don’t know for sure that there wasn’t any alcohol in that mixture… I say this, only because I can’t see how it wouldn’t freeze solid f it didn’t have at least some alcohol in it… right??

Plus, I can’t seem to shake the feeling that I was somewhat sneaking the icy bitefuls… suggesting I knew I wasn’t really supposed to be having it…, but maybe it was just because it was a dessert-like treat at not-dessert-time… hmm…

I am definitely checking with my mom on this in the morning.

Speaking of underage drinking – well, you get it – we can mention my first experience of drunkenness… I was somewhere around the age range of 4-7 years.

We were at a restaurant, and the person next to me had a margarita.

In my family, we were basically always allowed to taste anything, so I was granted a taste of the margarita.

And I loved what I tasted.

It so happened that the family member on the other side of me also had a margarita… from her, too, I tasted the margarita… and then I continued to ‘taste’ the margaritas on both sides of me throughout dinner, knowing full well that I wasn’t really supposed to be doing it, yet doing it anyway, and just being very cautious not to be noticed.

Later, in the bathroom with my sisters, I was standing on the counter, kind of dancing around… definitely a bit loopy, though I say so myself…

In short, I very likely was intoxicated.

I remember my sisters laughing at how I was being silly, but no one seemed to think anything of it… I certainly didn’t at the time… it wasn’t until years later that I looked back and couldn’t see anything reasonable but the absurd likelihood of my having been at least a little bit drunk.

Face palm for sure, right?

Haha

But don’t worry: I didn’t turn into a drunk.

As a matter of fact, I hardly ever drink alcohol at all… and it is for lack of wanting it – I don’t even care about alcohol 99% of the time, it seems.

What I do love, of course, is margaritas.

I got lime juice yesterday at the grocer, just so I can make some healthy margaritas here at home… and we can’t have alcohol here, which doesn’t bother me, so I’ll be able to see if I can make something delicious to drink without that edge of flavor the tequila usually gives it.

(Note: I actually only seem to like alcohol for the edge it gives to something else, and not for the beverage itself… the only exception is champagne, which I find to be a lovely beverage.)

Anyway… we’ll see what Mom says tomorrow… haha

Post-a-day 2020

Swiping bubbles

My cousin pulled a can of beer out of the garage the other night.

It apparently tasted like metal, and nobody liked it… it had been out there for a very long time… and it might have come out of a dumpster just before it ended up in the garage…

Since nobody liked it, I offered to use it.

For what?

For my hair.

I told them how I sometimes use beer as conditioner – it is great for hair, plus it always smells great!

“So, you don’t drink beer, but you put it in your hair…”

Exactly. 😉

That was all yesterday.

Today, the beer was still on the counter, because I’d forgotten to use it last night in my shower.

The conversation somewhat repeats itself among the family who are gathered here today – and who happen to be all different from yesterday, except for my mom (and no, this is not our house).

In the middle of their doubt and unbelieving, my grandma confidently joins in, “Oh, yeah!… We used to sneak beers from my daddy’s, and use them… use them in our hair… oh, yeah,” she nods.

We all can’t help but to comment and ask her questions while she’s still talking, and she manages I answer our questions by the end of her two sentences.

Then my cousin says that, well, he, too, used to steal his daddy’s beers, but not for that, not for his hair…

We all laugh, processing the fact that Grandma user to steal beers… and that she poured them in her hair…

I mean, I‘m all about it, but I still think it’s a somewhat abnormal thing to do… too hipster for most these days, perhaps one could say…

‘I was stealing them for my hair, too… I was conditioning it from the inside… at the roots,’ my cousin adds.

Obviously, we love the nerdiness and the cleverness of the comment, and delight in our collective nerdiness.

Also, it felt nice to have my crazy idea actually sanctioned by someone considered not only sane but to be one in a place of authority within the whole family… that was great, and totally fun.

So, who knew that my grandma and I had ‘sneaking beers’ and ‘using beer in our hair’ in common?

Man, that’s cool.

Misled Bartender longs to be loved

Can we just talk for a minute about a certain type of character in men: that of the overweight male who manages the alcoholic beverages for everyone?

I’m not sure how I feel about this character, but I tend to notice that I frown or bold my face firmly blank rather often when in the presence of such a person.

On the one hand, he can do whatever he likes – he has the freedom to choose.

On the other, I feel so sad and distraught and, even, angry and annoyed that that is the way the man chooses to be.

You see, it comes across to me as a man who couldn’t find himself valued physically – fitness lacking immensely – and, quite possibly, therefore, intimately, and so he has discovered/chosen his position as drink expert, because he gets to be valued and appreciated by preparing and providing alcoholic beverages for everyone – in a way, he gets all the pretty girls, and, from each, a version of love, appreciation, and intimacy.

Add onto that the often-present obsession with drinking games and their rules, and I can hardly stand to be around this man… he is so adamant that he is the expert on this drinking game or that drinking game… and his skill levels are quite high in just about every drinking game…, as is his alcohol tolerance…

He goes around to the females of the party, and developed special codes with each of them regarding their drinking preferences… he understands them like no one else does…, but only in the sense that he knows what alcohol preferences they have…

And he seems to exude importance and appreciation of himself…

But do these women truly love him as he wants, needs?… or is the situation only getting worse and worse for this man who feels so unloved (outside of the alcohol stuff)?

Every time I cross this man, I have a sense of outrage at his ignorance – meaning that he ignored it – of doing anything valuable with his time and effort, and his misled focus on improving his skills at those two areas.

I mean, Really???!

And I know this is just my view and my opinion… I just wanted to share… the whole reason I am even upset about it is that I don’t value alcohol almost at all in life – I see it mostly as an unnecessary and not-so-valuable distraction for people… it used to be the safe beverage to drink, due to germ issues back in the day, but it seems to me to be utterly abused and somewhat unnecessary in modern-day society.

There are so many better ways a man can spend his time than focusing on alcohol tolerance, combinations, and games… he probably could have picked up a foreign language in all the hours he dedicated to those three things… let alone exercised and gotten loads more fit… :/ ::sigh

Just a thought – I’m not aiming to be rude here; merely aiming to say what I see and feel about this… but do you know what I mean?

Post-a-day 2019

Wasted

I wonder what it is that has people do the whole ‘hard core party scene’, filled with drinking, sometimes marijuana, and even the occasional illegal drugs.

Is there something we are seeking, and we search in the self-losing experience of extreme alcohol consumption?

Is there something that feels inadequate, but seems to be fulfilled when under the influence of increasingly strong effects of alcohol?

Are we afraid of or hating something in our lives, and we avoid the thoughts of it through alcohol’s removal of clear thinking?

Are we full of worries, and the alcohol pushes them out of our mind so well, we keep drinking more and more, until the law of diminishing return has been ignored so long that we hardly even function anymore?

Is it something else entirely?

I had a brief time of drinking in certain settings as a sort of camaraderie, or a group participation activity… sometimes even as group participation with ‘the cool kids’.

(I say ‘the cool kids’, but am definitely talking about adults… I wasn’t into law-breaking when I was under 21, and I definitely am not now.)

However, it didn’t last very long.

The worst of it, which was really only a matter of being tipsy in certain group drinking settings, not even drunk, was when I was very much hating something going on within that group setting, and I kind of wanted to avoid it while, at the same time, getting to be one of ‘the cool kids’.

(I did have a wonderful time of regular alcohol consumption at one point in life, and I believe the traditional German (and European) attitudes toward alcohol could prove quite helpful to the US… Biergarten evening drinking in summer in Germany is wonderful… but I didn’t even always drink then.

Anyway, the reason I was mentioning the Biergarten is that I do have positive memories and associations with alcohol… I just don’t much care for it.

I can have it, sure, but I wouldn’t be in the least bit concerned if I never had it again in my life.)

I’ve never understood what drives people to the degrees of drunkenness at which they are not functioning human beings, but merely stumbling babies all over again, twenty-plus years after the original state of babyhood…, but I have wondered much about what drives them to such a point in alcohol consumption.

And I’ve wondered, too, about if there is something comparable for me and my life… I haven’t come up with anything, but I haven’t looked too deeply into that specific piece of the idea.

We even call it being “wasted”…, yet do we consider that it could be a small piece of life that we have, indeed, wasted by being in such a state?

Just a thought, but it’s getting to me tonight…

Anyway… happy life, happy night

Post-a-day 2019

Rocks with that?

I was reminded today of how I used to have a chunk of charcoal in my water bottle.  I haven’t thought much about that at all recently, (however, I might start doing it again) but apparently the lacrosse team I used to help coach thinks of it often.

First off, the charcoal in the water bottle is something I learned from Japan, though, via my brother before I moved there (and then it was emphasized while I lived there).  It has to do with cleaning up the water, essentially, from what I recall.  (Note: It is not drinking charcoal mixed with water.  It is a stick of this specific charcoal that sits in the water bottle, so that its pores can absorb unwanted stuff from the water.)

Anyway, so I had this stick of charcoal in my water bottle.  I carry my water bottle pretty much everywhere with me in life, so lacrosse practice was included back when I was coaching (and teaching).  Apparently, one of the girls has held on to the fact that I had ‘some kind of rocks’ in my water bottle, though I have doubts as to whether she recalls what the ‘rocks’ actually were (the stick had broken in half, so there were actually two pieces in the bottle, instead of one, but they didn’t really look like rocks).  In memory of my water bottle, in a sense, that particular girl regularly drops rocks into other people’s water bottles, telling them that it is healthy, and reminding them of how I did it.

Yes, my wonderful lifestyle rubs off in the best of ways.  ðŸ˜›  I guess it gives us a new meaning for ‘on the rocks’, now.

Post-a-day 2018