oh tequila, you are one evil bitch

I hate to beat a dead whore horse, but I will.  It is absolutely unacceptable for me to consume tequila.  It just is.  THIS is the kind of nonsense that tequila makes happen.  That is why I make damn sure I don’t have even the tiniest little bit, especially at times when things are a bit volatile.  It’s a recipe for disaster.

This past weekend we set out on a damn fine road trip across our state to our former home to celebrate Halloween with our dear friends who throw the best damn costume party each and every year.  Some may even call it an EPIC festivity.  {Not me, because I don’t say such silly words.}

Our four hour road trip was most certainly epic.  Except that someone broke my one road trip necessity, my Journey’s Greatest Hits CD, and neglected to tell me before we hit the road.  I don’t travel without my Journey.  Eighties Butt Rock and Ballads are the only thing that get me over the mountain pass and across the boring roads of our state.  What’s a girl to do?  Pandora, that’s what.  Know what’s better than Journey’s Greatest Hits?  The Journey station on Pandora.  I literally felt a little raspy and bloated from all my car singing dramatics.  Well, that and the four pounds of road candy that I refused to share with anyone.  Dude, everyone knows you buy your own freaking road candy.  Don’t mess with my perfect balance of sweet, chewy, sour and black licorice goodness.  I have this down to a damn science.

Once we pulled into town and had all our ducks in a row, we rushed around to get all costumed up for the party and more than one of us may have forgotten to eat any dinner.  Some of us (not me, but for sure Jimmie, if I’m mentioning names) may have been a little drunk before the party even started.

Jimmie and I have rules, a survivor guide to being too old to get drunk in public, if you will.  One of those rules is that Jimmie doesn’t drink because it takes a 280 pound man that has seen me naked and cut open on an operating table to keep me on the straight and narrow in a crowd of 75 drunk people.  It may not be fair, but that’s just the kind of controlling bitch I am.  We have one night per year basically that we throw caution to the wind and let the cards fall where they may.  As of Midnight on October 29, 2011 we have decided that might not be our best idea.

As I said, Jimmie was feeling pretty good by dinner time and was straight passed out by 9:00 pm.  That left no one, and I mean no one, to say something profound like, “Hey Babe, do you know what kind of booze those four jelly shooter things you are eatling like candy were made with?”  Because that’s just the question I should have been asked.  Not until I had swallowed number four did I realize I thought I might have tasted a hint of tequila behind that yummy sticky goodness.  There was also no one around to say something like, “Oh hey, you already drank all of your airplane bottles of booze, and that one has the distinct glow of cheap tequila behind it.  WHERE THE SHIT DID YOU EVEN GET IT?!?!”

See, the one that was supposed to do that was passed out on the couch.  So as with everything else that has gone wrong in my entire life, I’m just going to go ahead and blame the disaster that was Halloween Party 2011, on him.  I won’t go into too many details, I’ll just tell you that I not only lost my shit and screamed and yelled at one of my very best friends for God only knows what reason, but I also told pretty much everyone else I know to go and… suck a dick. Or something similar.  I can’t even remember.  And since I was in the blind rage that, as far as I can tell, only tequila can bring on… I don’t even know who to say I’m sorry to.  Except for the lead singer of the band’s girlfriend.  Who I am trying to track down.  I do remember needing to tell her a few I’m Sorries.  And to the rest of you, if you happen to see this, I’m truly sorry to you too.  I was a total idiot.

What the shit, you guys?  Who even allows me out in public?  I’ve decided sobriety is probably the best option for this over-stressed and under-socialized little lady.  If you need me I’ll just be in church.   Or on the couch eating the 75 pounds of candy my little monsters brought home last night.



18 thoughts on “oh tequila, you are one evil bitch

  1. I rarely drink, but when I do, I avoid tequila like the plague. It’s like that country song, for me. I will get naked in front of anyone when I drink tequila. I try to stick with rum and other fruity drinks, instead.

  2. Great post! This made my day! I now have documented proof that “road candy” isn’t something that I made up and that I do NOT have to share it. Thank you very much.

    As for Jimmie … we’ve all got one. Someone that we love and cherish and count on right up until it really matters and then the inconsiderate fools pass out first.

    My Arch Party Nemesis is not tequilla but the WHITE RUSSIAN. The WR has been banned from my life and no more than two ingredients are allowed in my house at once. If I have ice and milk, there must be no Kahlua! If I have Kahlua and milk, there must be no ice!

    It’s good to have rules.

    Thanks for sharing!

    • I can’t even imagine why people try to argue this road candy rule. It seems so obvious to me. Uncultured- that’s what they are!

      I think we should collaborate and write a book. Between everything we’ve got going here, I think we could save the world one belligerent drunk at a time.

  3. Ok, first things first…please tell me when you say licorice you’re not talking about Twizzlers. If you are, I may have to come kick your ass.

    Beer and wine is it for me. Mainly beer. Ever since the disaster known in this house as Cinco de Mayo 2010. In a not completely dissimilar event as that you describe, a certain HHW consumed way more tequila than should be allowed. Then consumed more by walking around the party, taking others’ drinks and draining them. I may have said some things. Some bad things. Then, I may have picked up the beautiful Tres Leches cake my neighbor made, took it downstairs to my house, then promptly dropped it face down on my kitchen floor trying to “hide” it in my fridge. The dogs loved me. The neighbor didn’t. I don’t recount this from memory, as I don’t recall any of this. Rather it was bitched…err…conveyed to me as I puked my guts out and slept on the bathroom floor.

    Yeah, so…right there with ya babe. No tequila allowed in this house.

      • Thank you, for making me feel so much better. I seriously want to laugh about how completely ridiculous I was, but I feel too bad. So for now, I’m laughing my ass off at you. OMG- there is not one part of this story that doesn’t make me feel giddy.

      • Well, let me just add that the next day I HAD to work. Fortunately, I work from home. So, I laid in bed with my laptop. I set my alarm to go off every hour. I’d wake up, groaning, check email. Respond to the million pings. Go back to sleep. Repeat 9 times. Most awful day. Ever.

        You can feel badly….just don’t beat yourself up too long. I mean, we’re all adults, even when we act like stupid drunk teenagers. I’m sure the other people you offended have all been in those shoes at one time or another. They’ll get over it.

  4. Yah- I’m feeling bad with a smile on my face. Not gonna beat myself up too much. At least the most important person, who I screamed at the most, has forgiven. At least she says she has. I might wake up with a horse head in my bed. Until then, I’m assuming all is good. 🙂

    Thank God I didn’t have to work. Or function in any way. Oh God… that would have been hell on earth. Wait, I actually drove the four hours back home. Holy Crap.

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