Apparently, the drinking gene skipped a generation in my family. My great-grandmother, mother and I can all drink like fish. My granny, not so much. She doesn’t like the taste of alcohol and almost never drinks. But the few times she has gotten drunk have been memorable, to say the least.
When I was 5 years old, she took me with her to a friend’s wedding. Granny had like maybe 3 glasses of champagne and was hammered. Because the church was close to the house, we had walked there. On the walk home, granny was lurching from telephone pole to telephone pole, barely able to walk. And always being the little helper that I am, I was skipping down the street ahead of her, singing at the top of my lungs, “Grandma’s drunk! Grandma’s drunk!” I am sure the neighbors appreciated my town crier impersonation at 11 0’clock at night.
The only other time she got rip roaring drunk was about 20 years ago, she and grandpa went out to a bar with another couple. The wife told my granny that Singapore Slings tasted just like punch, and she should try those. Well, she did and she liked them. Liked them so much, she drank them all night long. She says she didn’t feel drunk at all and thought she had finally found a drink she could tolerate. Until she stood up. Then she knew she was blitzed. (isn’t that a great feeling?)
Grandpa drove her home in his 1965 Mustang and while he was on Sunset Blvd. another car gunned it’s engine. Granny took this as a challenge and turned to my grandpa and said, “Race him, Louie! You can beat him!” The thought of my grandparents drag racing down Sunset Blvd. on a Saturday night is almost more than I can bear.
That pretty much ended her illustrious drinking career. She now has zero tolerance for alcohol. A few years ago she spent the night at my house. I had drank one of my famous white trash martinis (diet vanilla coke and vanilla vodka) before bed and left the glass on the counter. There was no booze in it, just the melting ice. After I went to bed, granny decided she wanted a glass of water. Being raised during the Depression, she learned to never waste anything. So, when she spied my glass with the ice on the counter, she put the ice in her water. She didn’t know there had been alcohol in that cup, she just thought I had drank a regular soda. Now, there had to be maybe 1/8 of a tablespoon worth of booze in that cup. Not enough to get a kitten trashed, but it was enough for granny. She wasn’t really hammered, but when she woke up the next morning, she told me she has slept so good! She didn’t know why she did, just that she slept like a baby. Then I saw my glass was in the sink and asked if she put it there. That’s when she told me about the ice and I realized she had unintentionally had herself a little night cap.
So, there are some hard learned drinking lessons that she doesn’t know about.
1.) Cool Ranch Doritos taste the same coming back up as they do going down.
2.) Three bottles of Boone’s Farm Strawberry Hill will make your puke pink.
3.) Tequila shots are NEVER a good idea. Ever.
4.) After 5 martinis, you will lose all inhibitions about peeing in public.
5.) Girls cannot pee in public without getting their shoes wet.
6.) Real friends will hold back your hair when you are puking out the window of a moving car.
7.) Projectile vomit travels faster than the speed of light.
8.) If you fall out of bed after drinking 7 Lemon drop martinis, you will not even feel the landing.
9.) I am an AWESOME singer when I am hammered.
10.) The only cure for a hangover is nasty, greasy fried food.
So, obviously, my granny is fairly ignorant in the ways of hangover foods and cures. Saturday night we went to a wedding and my mom and I got shit faced. It wasn’t pretty. Just ask the limo driver or whatever poor sap gets to clean up the mess I left in that car. Not to be too gross, but let’s just say that I woke up Sunday morning with a 100% EMPTY stomach.
The next morning, I make my way to mom and granny’s hotel room to find my mom looking like 12 miles of bad road. We were twins. And both desperately in need of some greasy, fried food to cure the hangover. A grilled cheese sandwich and French fries would have been more than welcome at that moment. I said, “We need hangover food.”
Granny said, “Soup?”
Bless her sober little heart.
(p.s. i am fully aware this entry is properly capitalized. i wrote it in Word and copied it and pasted it here. so don't get used to it.)