I Love Jesus But I Drink A Little.

I ain't no quitter!

I ain’t no quitter!

My friend “Beth” messaged me last Thursday night while I was at the gym.  I’ve omitted some details for privacy reasons, but otherwise shit went down like this:

Beth:  Are you blessing the Lone Star State with your beautiful self this summer?

Me (already suspicious because she called me a blessing and beautiful in the same sentence):  I am.  I’ll be in Town XYZ on the 25th, staying 6 to 7 nights and then I’ll be through Dallas/Ft. Worth.  Will y’all be there?

Beth:  Cool…  the kids and I will be gone until the 27th.  I was worried we might miss you.

Me (relaxing a bit because that sounds harmless enough):  Sounds like it’ll work out.  You up to hosting again?

Beth:  Sounds good.  We may have to have one night without kids because we have decided that you need to meet Bob, Jenny’s brother.

Me (I’ve done the math on my calculator by now):  Is this a trap?  Is he an AA volunteer?  Fed?

Beth doesn’t text back right away, which makes me even more suspicious so I attempt to nip this shit in the bud.

Me:  No interventions!

Beth:  No, quite the opposite.  He is just a hoot.  He still hangs with Vinnie Paul from time to time.

Me (I decide to play it cool for now and investigate later):  No way!  Cool.

Beth:  He was very close to Dime while he was alive, has some of his things.

Me (God, I’m so smooth!):  Can’t wait to meet him!

I filed the conversation away until last night when I was talking to my friend “Lucinda” on the phone.  I grilled her, demanding to know if she’s in on this intervention thing.  Instead of instant denial and pledges of eternal devotion, she just giggled uncontrollably, which for her usually means “Hell yeah, I’m in on it”.

I attempted to trip Lucinda up and mused that I don’t recall Jenny ever mentioning a brother, much less a super cool one who hangs out with Vinnie Paul, the co-founder of the group Pantera and brother to Dimebag Darrell, God rest his soul.  Lucinda resumed giggling uncontrollably when I mentioned Dimebag Darrell, which convinces me this is a setup because Dimebag Darrell is nothing to giggle over, damn it.

I then emphatically stated that I was not falling for this fuckery and would just hide out at her house the entire time I was in Dallas.  Lucinda, most assuredly thinking only of the damage I’d inflict on her alcohol supply if I was holed up at her house 24/7, then decided to play Good Cop and searched Facebook for “Bob”.  She claimed there really is a “Bob”, complete with long hair, tattoos and rock dude type pictures with other rock dude types.

I smell what’s cookin’ and I don’t like it.  I want to state my defense up front.  Firstly, I only drink on days that end in the letter “y”.  Secondly, exactly how many shots make one drink?  What am I working with here?  Thirdly, it needs to be understood that I am incredibly shy in most social situations and merely hold onto alcohol with a deathlike grip much like Bob Dole clutches his security ink pen.  Quit laughing, that’s actually mostly true. Lastly, the following should not aid in any way in the case against me:

• Light beer

• Desserts with hard liquor as the main ingredient

• Meat marinated in alcohol

• Those little chocolate bottles filled with liquor

• Liquor made to look like blood, contained in fake blood bags, syringes or test tubes, served by fake nurses at Halloween

• Seasonal beers, year round but especially fall brews

• Hard ciders

• Screw it, the whole month of October is off limits

• Liquor added to coffee

• Alcohol consumed while I’m wearing a swimsuit

• Alcohol sipped through those really long, curly kid straws

• Fruit soaked overnight in alcohol and frozen

• Beer consumed during research at Brew Fests

• Holiday celebration alcohol, including but not limited to eggnog

• Thirsty Thursday at the ball park

• Liquor used for medicinal purposes

• Alcohol consumed on Saturdays during football season

• Liquor in tiny airplane bottles

• Any drink which can only legally be prepared by a licensed bartender and is flammable

Well, shit.  I’ll miss y’all.  Will you at least write to me while I’m in rehab?  Thanks a lot, “Bob”.  Ass hole.

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9 comments

  1. Okay in my defense most of time on the phone with you is spent laughing uncontrollably. You may not question my loyalty… I am unable to keep secrets from you ever. I think we both know this to be true. Also I have no idea who the people are that Bob has stories about so there’s that.

    Lucinda

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