Last Shot Lament

Never ever drinking again
Never ever drinking again

Do you ever get that post-Friday night paranoia? Those “I’ve been sleeping all day” Saturday blues? That all too familiar “Did I say too much?” wariness?

The “I told the Dwarf story again didn’t I?” realisation. The “Shit, I was talking reeeeaaallly loud” flash back.

The last shot lament?

Do you message all your friends to make sure they still love you, in case your uncouth sex talk put them off you for life?

Do you face palm yourself awake when you recall the theme of the night, asking the work hottie what it’s like to have been carved by angels? Lecturing much younger boys on their love lives? Going deep on the subjects of motherhood, fatherhood and sweet liberty?

Loudly listing all the work colleagues you’d do, while even loudlier bullet-pointing the reasons you wouldn’t shag the others. Remembering slices of gossip about the office gossip to store away for later, just in case?

Do you ever wish you’d stuck to your plan to nurse a lime and soda all night?

Yeah, me neither.

Pick Your Potion (AKA What’s Your Poison?)

tumblr_naij1kDAE51rjzbk4o1_500Captain Picard was into Earl Grey tea; mention the Dude and we think: White Russians. What’s your signature beverage — and how did it achieve that status? Via The Daily Post (22nd August 2014)

My poison is traditionally served hot, and like my men must be strong and dark, or I will pour it away. I like it wet which is where similarities between my beverage of choice and my fantasy partners end.

I just realised, what kind of drink isn’t wet? A dry Martini, I guess. BOOM!

Annnywayyyy, I recently talked about being a lapsed non-drinker here and since then have been gaily wracking up bar bills all over town, attending dance parties (well, one), hosting drunken BBQs in the park (again, just the one) and generally nursing a strong drink most Thursday or Friday nights.

I like it.

But I am very strategic in my drinking and this I believe is why I am able to enjoy it, as I am smugly confident I can keep the hangover at bay. I drink Vodka & Diet Coke because it is slimline (UGH I KNOW!) but also because it is ‘clean’.

Not too much sugar (yes, I know those artificial horrors they do contain are probably worse in the long run but that’s a whole other issue) and Vodka just ain’t that fattening, Baby. I drink Vodka because I like the idea of it and if I had the stomach, I would probably smoke like a chimney and drink it neat like a sexual Russian Bond Girl/Spy in red lipstick. I am weak though and lipstick looks rubbish on me, so I have to have a mixer. I love it with ginger ale normally but when watching these curves, I stick to the DC.

I also always have two Ibuprofen and a glass of water by the bed when I roll in (at 10pm) and thus far have thwarted the hangover curse of the over 30s.

My real poison however, is good old-fashioned tea. I cannot envisage a single day without it and probably drink between five and ten cups every day. I’m with Picard on this one but stick to a straightforward Builder’s Brew because that’s just how I roll. Tea in the morning, tea at work, tea on return from work, weekend tea, tea in a cafe, tea in bed, tea everywhere and anywhere – just make it strong (two bags, also like my ‘men’).

I could give up booze tomorrow but I couldn’t do the same with tea. No way.

While I am here I will say there is no excuse for a rubbishly made cuppa. In the office we all take turns and most people have got this down. When it’s my turn I make an effort to get other people’s orders right. Some people don’t pay this forward and I get a milky cup with two tea bags floating on the surface.

Erm, no, that’s not the way to do it.

Mind you, this is usually always done by a non-English person and so I suppose I can understand. Your Antipodean countries don’t have proper tea, nor do Canada. Sorry guys!

My friend will send you back and make you start again if you f**k up hers and I know of a man that work’s with Mr Bee who once took a girl who’d just made his tea into the kitchen and made her watch while he poured it bitterly down the sink. “Try again” he said. (I would go ballistic if someone said this to me personally but I sort of admire the audacity).

So there it is. Never mess with a girl’s tea and if you are going to make it, make it exactly to order. If I tell you I want it the exact shade of a female bodybuilder’s tan (e.g. mahogany), I mean mahogany.