Posts Tagged ‘drink-a-billy’

Coffee = love

April 22, 2010

This is how I felt this morning.

Actually, most mornings I feel this way. I’ve always been a night owl, but between having a small child and a regular workday, I rely more and more heavily on the strength of the  coffee bean to get me going.

I didn’t always like coffee very much, but I find myself making a pot almost every morning now.  I’m addicted more to the hazelnut creamer now than the actual coffee itself.  It doesn’t really seem to ‘get me going’ like I hope it will; some days, I wish it would kick my butt into gear, shoot steam out of my ears, and send me on my merry way.

Instead, I slump around for an hour after I wake up, trying to get breakfast and get dressed, etc etc…feel guilty for having to wake the slumbering bumber-boy who is even grumpier than I am in the mornings!

I’ve tried Red Bull, too. It sure as heck doesn’t give me wings, but it does taste like liquid Sweet Tarts, yum! Maybe I just drink too much soda for it to have an effect on me anymore. I suppose I’ve built up a tolerance to my favorite drug just like any good addict should.

My favorite solution for not being able to get up in the morning?

Go back to sleep.

Oh, how I dream about lazy sleeping-in days… If I could get more than six hours of sleep a night that would be…well, I don’t even know the word.

Gone are the days of staying up until 4am for no good reason, waking up around noon and having lunch.  Okay, more like one o’clock. Fine, two. No need for coffee!

If I tried that now I’d…well, actually I don’t know, because any sleep past 7:30 a.m. is interrupted by either:

a) a small person poking at my eyelids

b) a small person whispering, “It was an accident!”

c) a cat yowling outside the door demanding breakfast

d)  small person jumping on my belly

e) all of the above!

The only solution I can think of is to try going to bed before 1 a.m.

Yeah, I’ll do that…Right after I stop wasting time online (hello Facebook!).

My love for Jose…

July 23, 2007

“…You see every drink of liquor you take kills a thousand brain cells. Now that doesn’t much matter ‘cos we got billions more.

And first the sadness cells die so you smile real big.

And then the quiet cells go so you just say everything real loud for no reason at all.

That, that’s ok because the stupid cells go next, so everything you say is real smart.

And finally, come the memory cells. These are tough sons of bitches to kill.”

Legend of Bagger Vance

What is your drink of choice? Beer, wine, whiskey, or maybe a little NA O’Doul’s?

Me, I’m a tequila girl.

Occasionally when I go out, I drink a straight shot of it, sans ‘training wheels’; no salt, limes, or any of that. “Jus’ gimme the (*hic-cup!) licker, bartennner!”

See, I didn’t start off hitting the hard stuff.  I’m just a picky drinker; can’t stand dirty or sweet martinis (unless they’re chocolate), vodka gives me a headache, wine makes me sleepy, and rum…well let’s just say Cap’t Morgan and I had a falling out one night and we’ve never gotten back together! Dirty pirate.

It all started with my friend Erin. Mild mannered, quiet, silly, whiskey-chuggin Erin. Woo Hoo! We worked on a ranch in New Mexico a few summers on a college program. Once a week they’d have a talent/ open-mic night. 

So use your imagination to picture all the folk singers (who were actually quite good) the other folk singers (who made me want to hang myself with their guitar strings), and the folk singer/songwriters (who sold their CD’s in the lobby). Some nights a few of the college kids got up and read something, sang a song, etc. I even read a few sappy poems myself.

ANYhoo, Erin and I weren’t too fond of all the singing/poetry week after week and decided to hide outside during the worst performances and turn it into a drinking game. I can’t really remember the rules, but it was something very structured like, ‘drink more if they suck’ or some such.

We alternated between Yukon Jack, a sweet Canadian whiskey, and straight Jose Cuervo Gold. I’d describe the merits and flavors of each, but it doesn’t really matter after the second shot anyway.

I hear tequila makes some people angry. This happens to me sometimes, but only when I’m walking with drink and somebody bumps into me and spills it.

Seriously, though, it does make me want to dance. A lot.

Alright, enough about tequila. Time to go drink my warm milk and tuck the quilt around my ankles so I can do the crossword.

P.S. To Jose Cuervo – if you’re out there anywhere nearby, come visit me soon. I desperately need to shake my bootie shamelessly!

And for anyone who is frowning at my obvious love for (lately very rare occasions of) drinking, just remember – I’ll be smoking, too! HA HA!