You Want Me to Drink WHAT?

Originally posted by Scott.

As I think I may have said before, I like to drink. I like alcohol, the variety that is available, the way different types of alcohol can be mixed together to create something new, and the effect it has on me.

As a result of enjoying alcohol, on something of a regular basis, I have, on occasion, found myself slightly inebriated by the end of the evening.

Ok… maybe slightly inebriated is an understatement.

“Smashed out of my tiny mind” is perhaps more appropriate.

Most of these evenings manage to pass into the mists of time, being remembered merely as a good night; an evening you went out with your buddies and drank enough to make everything entertaining, without the nasty side-effects of spending all night calling for dinosaurs, or waking up and trying to explain to yourself why the sheepdog lying in bed next to you is wearing a tutu.

Some of them stay with you though.

These are the traumatic evenings.

The ones that frequently lead to traumatic mornings.

As I said, I like alcohol. I like the way it tastes. I like the way you can mix it together and make new and interesting drinks. But that's not to say that I like all alcohol.

Some drinks are politely described as "an acquired taste". As far as I am concerned, if you acquired the taste you are either drunk or desperate need of professional help. Chartreuse for instance. Or the Robitussin of the drinking world, Jaegermeister. I don't like these drinks because, lets face it, they taste like ass.

However, some alcohol I dislike so much, merely getting close enough to smell it turns my stomach. These are the drinks which not only taste bad, but are inextricably linked with bad drinking experiences.

Tequila for instance.

A drink guaranteed to turn refried beans into regurgitated beans if given half a chance.

Now don’t get me wrong. I have NEVER been drunk on tequila.

There has, however, been occasion when, during the course of a evening, I've been tricked into imbibing a shot or two of tequila. Don’t ask me why, I can’t stand the stuff. I put it down to peer pressure, or perhaps the pretty bartender using her feminine wiles on me. You know the way they do, confusing me by batting her eyelids while offering me the Devil’s own piss, usually with the words, “it’s ok, this is good tequila.”

Let me tell you now, ladies and gentlemen, bartenders lie like rugs. Tequila is NEVER good.

Anyway, whatever the reason, I hold others responsible because I’d never drink that stuff in my right mind.

The smell of it turns my stomach, but the taste. Oh, god the taste is awful....

I don’t know what it is about the flavor, but no matter what I drink before or after it, that flavor stays with me. All night long. Five cigars later and I can still taste it. Try to drown it with 8 pints of Guinness and I can still taste it. Scoff down a kebab bought from the back of some dodgy van at 4.00 in the morning loaded in chilli sauce, and I can still taste it.

Tequila seems to be the last thing you taste at night when talking to god on the porcelain telephone, and it’s the first thing you taste when you wake up the next morning feeling as rough as a badger’s arse.

And that's never a good thing.

Although, arguably, it's not as bad as Cointreau.