like you used to

My first swig of booze was from my parents' liquor cabinet. I was maybe... what... ten years old or so? Ten years old and curious about the booze thing.

Gawd, it was awful. People drank that stuff voluntarily? I don't remember what it was. Something dark. Bourbon maybe. Curiosity satisfied, I put that sh*t back in the cabinet and never touched it again.

Eventually, I made it to high school where drinking was a means to an end. Taste? What did that have to do with anything? We're only doing this to get blasted/ hammered/ smashed/ trashed/ etc., right?

I recall drinking horrible rum and cokes mixed by stupid teenagers (me and my friends) while in a gas station parking lot . One guy noted, "This tastes like Flintstone's Chewables". By George, he was right. Then there was Jungle Juice. Remember Jungle Juice?

Now, I was not a super partier by any means as a teen, but did my fair share of giving into the peer pressure for something to do. Ours was a small town, booze was easy to come by and made for lasting memories I suppose.  Bonding by hair-holding.  

Having drunk enough paint-thinner tasting concoctions by the time I was of legal age, I'd already pretty much lost interest.  Also, going in to work the morning after a night of drinking is surely made more difficult with age.

Playing some drinking game
with fellow poor friends during
the college years

I went to a university known for partying, but those were rich kid affairs - Sororities and Fraternities. I went to a Frat party or two, but never drank much at them. I mainly observed and wondered who was going to clean everything up. So much sticky.

Between classes and my part-time job, I really didn't have money or time for such things anyway.

I did very little to add to the party statistics of my school. 

Next thing I knew, I was an adult. Had a husband, mortgage, kids... 
I enjoy a nice glass of wine or beer or mixed drink on occasion in social situations. But I can't recall  the last time I would've fallen into the "drunk" category, let alone "blasted/ hammered/ smashed/ trashed".

To my kids, apparently, I am super clean and a major lightweight - or maybe "light flyweight" to use a boxing analogy.  I guess they have it in their minds that I never drink other than "maybe a halfa beer on a weekend".

I found this out at Meego's recent college graduation. He and his fellow grads/roommates hosted the potluck bash at their rental house. I sipped some champagne and a bit of beer.

Eventually, the shot ski came out, and Meego and I bellied up to join one of his roommates and roommates mom. 

L to R: Meego, Abby, Roommate, Roommate's mom

Omigosh, the cautionary advice that ensued from Chaco and Wolfgang! Which booze to allow in my shot glass, expectations, something I can handle, etc. It's like they imagined me stumbling about and peeing myself after one go at the shot ski. 

Anyways, the ONE shot I did was Deep Eddy Lemonade Vodka. I rather enjoyed it, and imagine it wouldn't have taken much more for me to become "blasted/ hammered/ smashed/ trashed". In truth, I am a lightweight, but not so squeaky clean.

I'd say it's probably a good thing I started my alcohol journey with that moonshine tasting crap we concocted in high school. 

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Linking up this week with Mama Kat for the prompt:
4. Write a blog post inspired by the word: clean