Alcohol is great.
No seriously, it is.
It makes you happy.
It makes you feel free.
It can even make you look a million times cooler if you chose the right type of drink.
My current choice is whiskey with a slosh of water and some ice.
On the rocks, if you will.
I won’t lie.
I look like a frickin’ rockstar drinking it!
I know there will be some readers who will say “Tut tut, condoning alcohol, eh? How irresponsible! What if a child reads this!?”
In response to that I’d say, if a child reads this, they’ll have gotten a very helpful lesson in ‘Looking Cool’, so that’s my charity work quota filled for the week.
But seriously, it’s fun to drink as long as you’re not a complete gobsheen about it.
I say this as someone who didn’t drink until they were 20.
I also say it as someone who drinks maybe once/twice a month.
So I AM responsible and stuff and therefore what I say is mature and full of wisdomosity.
There are a few downsides to being a Drunky McDrunkerson.
For me specifically there are two.
Number One: Whatever is in my head, will come out of my mouth.
This is bad.
Number Two: I think I can dance.
This is REALLY bad.
Myself and The Bessie went to The Oak on Saturday night.
In this basement club, there is an empty stage.
It’s just there.
Just asking to be stood on.
I had a bad experience of mixing alcohol with stages back in college.
From that night on, I vowed not to mix the two again.
And then The Oak happened.
I stood at the opposite end of the dance floor, eyeing it warily, daring it to tempt me.
No chance, Mr Stage, you ain’t breaking through my resolve.
Thou shall not pass, and all that.
But then the whiskey happened.
And Mr Stage turned into a pulsating beacon of sunshine and unicorns, pulling me in.
Ten minutes later I had mounted it with The Bessie and our newly-acquired friend, Drunk Guy.
I broke out my awesome dance moves.
My awesome drunk dance moves.
You guys have heard about my sober dancing, so can you image alcohol being added to that mix?
“Man, I’m too hot,” I thought, mauling my own body and waving my hands over my head, while looking down at the ground.
Throw some sweaty hair swishing in for good measure and of course, some hip-swivelling.
Then there was probably twirling and some jerky shoulder movements and pouting.
“I bet I look SO sexy right now” I thought gazing down at my adoring fans, who were all pretending to ignore me.
I think I may have pulled my ‘ghetto’ moves out at some point.
I don’t actually have ‘ghetto’ moves.
I’m whiter than white, lads.
I am Vanilla H.
So in conclusion.
Alcohol = Awesome
Me + Five Glasses of Whiskey = Complete Gobsheen