I should name this Cuervo Patron.
... tequila in itself is a dangerous elixir.
A drink. A. Not a- heavy on the aaaaayyyy. A. More like uh. A. Or Ahh. A drink. Never happens. Elixir. Spirit. Devil's Juice. Yummy beverage. It doesn't happen. One. A. Ah. Uh.
Why?
Because it loosens your shoulders. A tingling numbing sensation encompasses the upper half of your body. Really, in the beginning it skips your head- that comes later. Weird how that works- but that's how it is. Shoulders into elbows into forearms into wrists into hands and finally fingertips... If it reaches below any of this, you may be in trouble and my best suggestion is water and heavy doses of Ibruprofren and or Tylenol type items... maybe even 'punch the punching bag' as my loveliest would say, and has done.
...but that initial shoulder relaxation is what we strive for by having A drink. A weight off our shoulders so to speak- life releases its anxieties with each sip of Vermouth or shot of Tequila. We can physically watch a weeks worth of crappy customers and misfiled charts flee off our backs with each round of potent concoctions...releasing us from the terrible chains of every day mediocrity. Until. Until it reaches our head; which for all of us varies. Don't count on size. I can manage some Tequila and at the size I am could cause some 200 lb men pause --but there is that moment- which seems to be almost always totally irreversible... when you cross the thresh hold of tingly shoulders into 'brain affection'.
Brain affection changes all things. For some - brain affection leads to 7' ft tall syndrome and a Superman cloak. Others it leads to irresponsible confessions often coupled with nudity. Some may feel as if they are stuck in a 9 hr Hallmark commercial laced with 'any last thing you wanna say before we can ya?' land where no matter what the celebration- tears and apologies are on the bill. I tend to become a nice combination of all the above- sans the Superman cape as my undying conscience keeps us all (mostly) out of trouble...
Just for a moment- imagine a world of inebriation and instead of living sober for the 8 hrs a day and then drowning our sorrows in liquor at 5- we spent the majority of the day wasted and only sober for a few hours- to-what?- feel??
Would we?
A tear rolls down my cheek as I contemplate this suggestion and I realize that it is not because the idea is phenomenal- but that I have salt leftover on my fingertips from that last bitter round of Tequila.
"Salt. Salt. Where's the mother f--in salt?"
A drink. A. Not a- heavy on the aaaaayyyy. A. More like uh. A. Or Ahh. A drink. Never happens. Elixir. Spirit. Devil's Juice. Yummy beverage. It doesn't happen. One. A. Ah. Uh.
Why?
Because it loosens your shoulders. A tingling numbing sensation encompasses the upper half of your body. Really, in the beginning it skips your head- that comes later. Weird how that works- but that's how it is. Shoulders into elbows into forearms into wrists into hands and finally fingertips... If it reaches below any of this, you may be in trouble and my best suggestion is water and heavy doses of Ibruprofren and or Tylenol type items... maybe even 'punch the punching bag' as my loveliest would say, and has done.
...but that initial shoulder relaxation is what we strive for by having A drink. A weight off our shoulders so to speak- life releases its anxieties with each sip of Vermouth or shot of Tequila. We can physically watch a weeks worth of crappy customers and misfiled charts flee off our backs with each round of potent concoctions...releasing us from the terrible chains of every day mediocrity. Until. Until it reaches our head; which for all of us varies. Don't count on size. I can manage some Tequila and at the size I am could cause some 200 lb men pause --but there is that moment- which seems to be almost always totally irreversible... when you cross the thresh hold of tingly shoulders into 'brain affection'.
Brain affection changes all things. For some - brain affection leads to 7' ft tall syndrome and a Superman cloak. Others it leads to irresponsible confessions often coupled with nudity. Some may feel as if they are stuck in a 9 hr Hallmark commercial laced with 'any last thing you wanna say before we can ya?' land where no matter what the celebration- tears and apologies are on the bill. I tend to become a nice combination of all the above- sans the Superman cape as my undying conscience keeps us all (mostly) out of trouble...
Just for a moment- imagine a world of inebriation and instead of living sober for the 8 hrs a day and then drowning our sorrows in liquor at 5- we spent the majority of the day wasted and only sober for a few hours- to-what?- feel??
Would we?
A tear rolls down my cheek as I contemplate this suggestion and I realize that it is not because the idea is phenomenal- but that I have salt leftover on my fingertips from that last bitter round of Tequila.
"Salt. Salt. Where's the mother f--in salt?"
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