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Memoir Monday: Tequila

February 8, 2010

I know some of you have seen this picture several times before. I've used it on forums boards for my avatar, I've used it on social sites, I've even thrown it around just for shits and giggles.

This picture was taken in grad school, during my first semester, before I had entered a lab to do my research, and before I had even met my wife. In those halcyon days before my life was dominated by "research" and "reaction mechanisms" and "14 hour days" and "chemistry 24 hours a day" and "fevered dreams of cyclopropanes and benzene rings", and even before an angry God or panoply of angered deities saddled me with a powerful allergy to hops, I was able to drink.

And, boy, did I.

However, in all that time, I hadn't really "experimented" with alcohol. I knew what was out there, and I knew what I liked (and that vodka did not like me). I knew the slow burn of scotch as it crawled down my gullet, I knew the fiery burn of Jameson, and the slow warming of bourbon.

And before you go all smartass on me, I know that they're all types of whisk(e)y.

I like whisk(e)y. Which is why it was my sipping liquor of choice.

Rum, however, was my "get drunk and hit on my undergrad students" liquor of choice.

I had, however, managed to avoid the creature known as "tequila". I knew of tequila, but had never imbibed. Mostly because my friend, the guy who woke me up shaking the bed when we roomed together in college, got drunk off tequila once. I remember it distinctly.

*ring*ring* went my telephone.

Whoever could this be? I thought, idly picking up the phone.

"Lock up yer daughters and sisters and wives, lubbers, 'cause Captain Rummy is coming ashore!" drunkenly drawled screamed a crude imitation of a pirate's brogue into my ear.

"[name redacted], is that you?" I asked, innocent as a schoolboy.

"There is no [name redacted]; there is only Captain Rummy, and he's comin' ashore, lubber!"

And then the phone disconnected.

"[name redacted]? [name redacted], are you still there?" I asked into the phone.

The response I got was the front door to the dorm (I lived one room away from it) flying open and smashing against the brick facade of the building.

"Captain Rummy, has boarded yer vessel!" I heard, bellowed in the hall. "Avast ye, and say yer prayers!" And, still holding the phone to my ear, I looked out in the hallway as my former room mate went tearing down the hall, screaming about how Captain Rummy was here, and he was there was rapin' and pillagin' to be done. Curious, I stepped out into the hallway for a better look, and all I saw was the north end of a south-bound former room mate. I saw him go around the corner, at full tilt, and I heard the back door of the dorm fly open, bang, and then slowly shut.

And silence.

This, my friends, was the result of tequila. Or so it was revealed to me later. And, if tequila could lambaste a hardened drunk like my former room mate in such a manner, then it was not something I wanted to mess around with.

"Try it," insisted my Bulgarian friend, while I was hanging out in his apartment on campus at Notre Dame. "It's a very good drink, baby. I'm sure you'll like it." He offered me the shot glass filled with the clear, slightly green beverage.

"Just make sure Captain Rummy doesn't go looking for some rapin' and pillagin'," I said. And then I took the shot.

Holy wow. It burnt, it cleared my sinuses, but damn, I didn't feel even slightly drunk--you know, that feeling like you just threw down a bunch of alcohol? Yeah, I didn't have that sensation at all.

"Would you like a margarita, baby?" my Bulgarian friend asked.

"Set me up, baby," I said. So he did.

And he did again.

And then again.

Let me take a moment here to pause and encourage you that, if you ever get the chance to drink a margarita made by a Bulgarian, go for it. They like to put a lot of alcohol into their drinks.

So it was with these margaritas. Aside from the shot, I think I had three, maybe four margaritas, with at least one more shot thrown in, to boot. Tequila and I were getting along famously. I was snuggling down in her bosom and getting comfortable. It was so warm and muzzy in there, and her breasts were so pillowy soft and full of alcohol.

Unfortunately, while I was getting sleepy, I was also getting hungry.

Fortunately, Dr. Assy had a bucket of cheeseballs sitting in the living room (he shared an apartment with my Bulgarian friend), so I grabbed the bucket, tore the lid off, slid my hand in to feast myself. After the initial couple of handfuls, I slipped my hand back in there, and then I succumbed to the warm, pillowy bosom of tequila.

My friends, who love me oh so much, decided it was picture time. And, honestly, I can't blame them. Plus, I'll always have this lasting memento of the night I first encountered tequila.

Well, to go along with the cirrhosis, that is.

Memoir Monday is a wholly-owned subsidiary of I Like to Fish... and as such is the brainchild of Travis. I would have used the bookish button that he normally furnishes to go along with Memoir Monday, but as he claims that today he will be showcasing a new button to the blogging world, I'm just writing up this somewhat parodical disclaimer with inclusive links so that he won't sue me. The stories therein cannot be rebroadcast, retransmitted, or announced without the express, written consent of Major League Baseball."


Elliott said...

Things like this make me regret not drinking in college.

No, wait, I don't think that's regret.

Moooooog35 said...

The picture of Captain Feathersword has thrust me into Wiggles remembrance Hell of which I shall never escape and I had a comment but now I must kill myself.

Joshua said...

My stomach just lurched at the thought of cheeseballs and rum. It was the first and only time I got sick from alcohol. Let's just say a fifth of Parrot Bay and a small bag of Doritos do not a good meal make. Nor do they taste good together. In either direction via the esophagus.

Would you excuse me?

Erin said...

This photo is priceless. And because I am just finally making my way around to you, this is the first time I've seen it.

Going to be back much more---and thank you for stopping by my place today!!


Erin said...

and I'm following you now, btw.

kate said...

Tequila hurts my soul.

The last time my boyfriend (now husband) got good and hammered off of tequila, he proposed to be about 3 dozen times and then passed out all naked and snorey.

Cora said...

Embarrassing photos. Yep, that's what friends are for.

red said...

Tequila is bad news...although Margaritas at Ponces in San Diego are the best things ever.

Bev said...

Oh yes, Tequila is a fickle mistress. We cool now, but I had to break up with her for a while too. To put it bluntly, Tequila... she makes my clothes fall off.

That bitch.

Love the pic! At least they didn't feel the need to draw on your face. That happened to me once. Okay, twice. Crap.

Amber Tidd Murphy said...

Tequila tastes like boys I shouldn't have slept with.

So I only drink it on the weekends.


Travis said...


How the hell did I miss you.

Because I did, you go straight to the top of the line on the links!

Also, you probably win on the picture side of things. Just sayin. That shit is EPIC.

mo.stoneskin said...

A "very good" drink yeah right. Handsome chap you are too. While I'm not so sure what cheeseballs are I know that cheese on toast is the best thing in the world late at night after drinks.

Eric said...

Think of all the poor neutered cheese.

Yes, many of the truly bad decisions in this world are made too quickly with tequila, fire, and handguns.

Lindsey Himmler said...

That picture is epic. I don't have words.

Elliott said...

Define 'bad'.

Daffy said...

Just reading the word Tequila gives me the dry heaves.....geez....

And really, what drunk doesn't love cheese balls??? Everyone can see exactly what you've been touching!

Scope said...

Just another picture with your hand on your balls.

Scope said...

That joke is both cheese and corny.

adrienzgirl said...

Tequila makes good people do really naughty things!

It's like liquid ambition meets blonde bombshell, meets fiery redhead, meets sultry dark vamp all rolled into one perfect little shot.

Mmmm....mmmm....mmm! Tasty!

Anonymous said...

oooo my blog really wishes I remembered college!!

Stylez said...

Although I have never had alcohol, many lovely ladies have and then made wonderful inebriated decisions that I have benefited from. Yay!

Nej said...

Mmmmm...I love me some tequila. Although, our booze budget has skyrocketed!! in recent months, after the addition of a tequila bar in Omaha. :-) :-)

Captain Feathersword is uber creepy.

MJenks said...

@ Elliot: Things like this SHOULD make me regret drinking in college (or grad school), and yet, they don't. I guess that's what a thick skull gets ya...

@ Moooooog35: Maybe Wags the Dog can play the Virgil to your Dante.

@ Joshua: Fortunately, I can say that I did not get sick from this time of drinking. However...pickled bologna NEVER mixes well with booze. Just to let you know.

Does anyone else smell a TMI Thursday?

@ Erin: It was my pleasure. I enjoy your blog. And, yeah, even if it wasn't me, I'd still love this picture.

And, thanks a lot!

@ kate: Did he offer you three dozen rings before he went all naked and snorey.

And, hmmm...that COULD spice up this picture, couldn't it?

@ Cora: And food if you're stranded during a blizzard.

@ red Bad news, eh? I'll just let my imagination wander a bit...

@ bev: I've fortunately never had the face-drawing-upon happen. Although, I think one of my old roommates suggested it once and I heard enough in my drunken stupor to roust myself.

So...tell me more about this adverse reaction of yours to tequila...

@ Amber: Well, tequila DOES go well with salty things.

@ Travis: I knew this picture would be good for something some day.

@ Mo: Cheese balls are what you get when you castrate male cheese. Duh.

Actually, they're fried rice something-or-other, and then coated in a fake, orange, somewhat cheesy powder that gets everywhere and stains like a bitch. They're pretty much only cheesy in the academic sense.

@ Eric: Truer words haven't been spoken. Or typed. Or something.

@ Lindsey: Thank you! Neither did I. Unless you count "Zzzzzzz" as a word.

@ Elliot: An album by Michael Jackson?

@ Daffy: Unfortunately, I always leave crusty orange handprints on female party goers asses. And thereby I get labeled as the "culprit".

@ Scope: EXCEPT, they were Dr. Assy's balls.


I've said too much.

And, yes, that joke was cheesy and corny. And beautiful.

@ adrienzgirl: And, stupidly, I avoided it all through college.

@ Eternally Distracted: I'm pretty sure mine wishes I'd forget.

@ Stylez: I've had plenty of both (the alcohol AND the stupid benefits). It's such a wonderful little molecule.

@ Nej: Thanks to the delights of regulated liquor sales in the state, I can't afford tequila.