Pajiba

As a 31 year old who can still pass for an 18 year old, coupled with my lack of familial integration into "adult" life and a complete lack of willingness to bother with it anyway, I will live as a teenager. Unapologetically, forever and ever. Amen.

Signed,
Drunk by 3pm.

Monopolowa! Best $10 vodka out there.

As a married 26 year old who still goes on pub crawls and drinks to excess at least 1x a week, I'd say adulthood isn't coming anytime soon.

Over the summer I discovered the holy grail of cheap alcohol: peach head. 69 proof. $2 a handle.
Adulthood is overrated.

So do you have to eat the ant in the mojito, you know like the worm in tequila?

I'm edging right up on thirty, and still crawling home from a night of drinking and drunkenly (and poorly) singing along to the jukebox at our favorite pub when the sun is starting to come up. Still laughing and acting like and idiot and scarfing down pizza at 4 a.m. The hangovers keep getting worse, but otherwise I see no sign of aging.

Hmmm. Is that better than Turning Leaf? Cause that stuff's not very good. Whoever it really is that bottles the Two Buck Chuck apparently makes the Bay Bridge found in Kroger. Same price here: $2.97. Rex Goliath is my favorite "expensive" wine.

I posted this a few months ago under a different name which I both did and did not regret, so here goes as me:

When I was about 20 years old, I started wishing that I could wake up in my later life, say 10 years down the road, for just an hour in the middle of the night. I wanted to walk around and see where I was and who I was with. A little later, I wished I could go back to high school "knowing what I know now". When I was 30, I was glad it hadn't awakened for a 3 am life check as I felt I would have been disappointed, but I still wanted to wake up for an hour as a 40 year old and have that look around. Now that I am in my 40s I spend time wishing I could go back and change one or two things or simply "get it" sooner. Just one thing. I've even thought about what I would change depending on where I could change it. Of course, I wouldn't be where I am now and while it is fine, I don't believe in the fatalistic clap trap that what is meant to be will be or that we are doomed to repeat our own mistakes. I wish I could shake 16 year old me, or 20 year old me, or 25 year old me...you get the idea and say "Get a clue. Have a plan. Don't be so uptight/scared". You might say to me, but then you wouldn't have your child or you wouldn't have this or that. My response is that I wouldn't know the difference and I might have other things.

On a lighter note, but in the same vein: Recently, I was feeling tritely superior at work to someone who makes 6 times more money because I knew it was "per diem" and not "per deim" when the voice in my head said, "You know, this isn't grade three. It doesn't really matter any more who is the best speller. That's why he has someone like you to check these things for him."

You reach a point where you feel kind of locked in and the lottery really is your only option. Here's the thing: They are right when they tell you that money doesn't make you a better person or what defines who you are. What they omit is that money is actually very important and makes a big difference in your life. Money quite simply and in an all-encompassing manner can make your life easier. Following your dreams while poetic and all to-thine-own-self-be-truey is expensive in many ways.

Contrary to the self-pity evidenced above, I'm not terribly unhappy. I just wish I had done better. I know I could have. I even know that in the end all of my problems are western middle class problems and I shouldn't complain. That's usually when my spouse points out that even when I feel unhappy, I find some way to justify not having the right to be unhappy and therefore add it to my list of failures.

Now who wants a cookie?

Heehawhaw

I woke up a few months ago to realize that my significant other had aged by five years in the space of two and was now more worried about being practical and "real work". This meant that I was now supposed to have a better job than I already do and has led to several screaming matches.
I don't like this growing up.
And now I need to drink more to dull the pain of knowing that I am currently locked into a relationship that I can't stand anymore.

As a person whose ever more rapidly approaching milestone of fifty causes him to contemplate a life rich in horrors (the marks of which can be read on my face, displaying my soul for all to see), I find that I need less alcohol.

Of course, that's also an excuse to go for quality, not mere quantity.

I now keep bar syrup in the fridge for Margaritas and other cocktails, and can splurge just a little for a better grade of gin than Brand X. I do need to get some more tonic water before tomorrow night, though - the quinine's good for keeping off the malaria, you see.

Tomorrow night being National Drinker's Night, I shall settle into a comfy armchair and contemplate the Wheel turning as I slowly add another layer of poison to my liver.

Vivami et inebriamini! (Live and get drunk, in extremely poor Latin)

Just because you're a grown up now, doesn't mean you can't *also* be an alcoholic. In fact, the best drinkers of cheap vodka in plastic containers that I know are bitter old adults with real jobs and responsibilities.

The trick is to enjoy yourself - like the Charles' and quite unlike my high school chemistry teacher.

Also, Mrs. J. if you'd made different choices, you probably wouldn't be offering cookies, so it's all good. Happy New Year.

Now where's my cookie??

I don't see how Nick and Nora count as adults? Nicks spends his life drinking, drinking with his wife, spending his wife's money, and occasionally solving murders. Yes, he has money, but he certainly doesn't act the way his age and class would dictate.

For the record, I always wanted to be either Nick Charles or Berttie Wooster.

There is some serious enjoyment in the right wine with the right glass in the right setting. There is also serious enjoyment in a cold can of Dixie pulled out of stream at a campground. I like to masquerade as a grownup, but lately I think the mask has started to slip a little. That's probably not a bad thing.

Mrs. Julien,
I'm copying and keeping your eloquent post. And when offered, I will always accept your cookies.

When alcohol fails to make things better, cookies often work. And vice versa, of course. Emphasis on the "vice."

A future without scotch (or the booze of your choice) is no future at all. That, and cookies...

I was a painfully shy, uptight, non-drinking churchgoer in high school--but everything after then has been a proper adolescence. I've gone from painfully shy to manageably introverted, no longer darken the door of any house of worship (weddings, funerals and humouring my mother when I'm home for the holidays aside), and as for the booze...well--the college sweetheart who made buckets of mead in his dorm room became the husband who makes his own beer, wine and spirits. I've got to support my man's hobby, right?

I think what I'm trying to say is, cheers to adult adolescence!

Really, idleprimate? I find that alcohol prices in Quebec are very cheap for very good quality. Gotta love the whole french "we are CLASSY drunks" thing that Quebec has going on.

Tomorrow night being National Drinker's Night.

Pfffffffffft. We all know that's Saint Patrick's Day.

I miss boozehound Ted Boyton!

I knew someone was going to bust out the amateur card. I knew it!

I look at it this way. As a professional drinker there are several holidays one can enjoy...and not look like an alcoholic. Those would be New Years Eve, Saint Patrick's Day, and the Fourth of July. Because everyone is drinking. Now, the reason why I wouldn't count it amateur is because, as the professional drinker, we get to watch the great decline of the amateurs. We watch on our 14th beer as the amateur pukes on his, or her, 7th beer. When they pass out face first on the concrete at 10pm, we walk past them...in a straight line. When they are belligerently arguing, we step a safe distance away, light a cigarette...and watch. We become kings among mere mortals.

As for the alcohol I drink? PBR and Jack Daniels. Because I'm poor. When I have money? Smithwick's and Makers Mark.

Goodness, who drew all the drapes closed in this place?? It's so DARK in here!

Mrs. Julien, your post almost made me cry (granted, it could be because I've started in on the New Year's Eve celebration with my friends Crown and Royal) but only because I completely got what you were saying.

It's funny, because I recently had to wade through one of my yahoo inboxes and delete thousands of emails that were very clear reminders of my mistakes I made and the "growing up" I did. There were the apologies I wrote to others, apologies written to me (which were much less eloquent and not as long-winded as mine), mistakes that I dated and proof of ways in which I sabotaged my success in various areas of my life.

At the end of it, though, I can't say that I would go back and fix anything or do anything differently or take any more or less time "getting it" because, at the end of it, this person that I am right now at this moment in time is also who I've always wanted to be. I'm not sure if there might be a better or more polished version of me in an alternate universe, a gal who made better decisions or didn't take as long to get with the program, but I do know that she may not have this same feeling of being comfortable in her own skin and loving every minute of her existence, regardless of whether or not the sun is shining that day or whether or not she is stressed or frustrated because the part-time job she settled on while she gets through school is cutting it reeeallly close, and that's something that I just wouldn't be willing to risk for anything in the world.

Now, I'll take you up on that offer of the cookie, except I'd like for mine to be oatmeal raisin, 'cuz that's my favorite. :)

Yeah, well, I'm sure you love somebody who also likes them and therefore know how to make them so THEREFORE try to make the raisins into a smile!

Now, if you're REALLY against the oatmeal raisin then I'm also partial to snickerdoodles.

Gracias.

Yes, well, we all have our flaws, Mrs. Julien.

Except I don't think my flaw is as much a flaw as a difference in personal taste!

But again, snickerdoodles, which are the sugar cookies dressed up with cinnamon will do just fine.

As the saying goes, you're only young once but you can be immature forever.

I don't drink much nowadays (just turned 57 FYI). Usually the only reason I drink is if I go to a bar for music or girls, and if I'm taking up the business's space I should be buying their offerings. And I can nurse a half dozen Guinness's better than a half dozen Diet Cokes.

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