Lightweight

Happy St. Patrick's Day! Let's talk about drinking.

With a heritage like mine, you'd think I'd be a great hard drinker -- someone who could down 15 pints and still functionally be able to scarf some sauerkraut and polish sausage, break a table over someone's head, and then destroy someone else at golf. You'd think that if you followed stereotypes, anyway -- and who doesn't? For example, right now you could say that I'm wearing a flannel shirt and listening to Melissa Etheridge while preparing a dish involving bulger and tofu -- and you'd be right.

Anyway, despite my background being Scottish, German, Polish, and smidge of Irish, I am a big-time drinking light-weight. Seriously. One beer and I'm woozy. Two, and I will publicly yell whatever you want me to, no matter how gross, crass, perverted, or foul it may be. Three, well - watch out.

I was not a binge drinker in college because I hate vomiting and being out of control. And really, I can have a lot of fun without drinking heavily. Anyway, those facts on vomit and self-control had me knowing my limit quickly and sticking to it as best I could. Yet through college and slightly beyond, that still didn't mean I would not do strange or funny things whilst under the influence of one or two beers.

For some time in college, there were tales of my "Speeches to Heather's Image in the Mirror." I once railed at my mirror image for going to a college that made me gay and a democrat. At other times friends witnessed my discussions with various parking meters and shrubbery. I once drunkenly lamented to a friend about the difficulties parking meters must have when they fall in love with each other. "How do they enjoy each other if they're always stuck in the same place?" I worried aloud.

On a walk up Jeff Hill at my alma mater, I greeted the entire row of pine shrubs along the hill as if it were a receiving line. "Hi, thanks for coming, thank you, thanks for being here, sorry about your roots, thank you, ooh you have soft piney hands, thanks, you're beautiful..." and so on.

That was college. Once out, the drinking declined sharply due to my environment and other factors. But I would still partake in a beer or more here and there with dinner or at a party. Casual drinking, and such.

I have not been tipsy in over a year now. This is by choice to an extent, but it was a choice forced on me by several of my internal organs. My stomach strongly dislikes me oftentimes, and usually it's for no apparent reason. I figured, why drink a beer when it will only have you doubled-over in extreme pain a short time later?

So I gave it up. It sucks, especially because I enjoy beer. I like how it tastes and I enjoy tasting different kinds of beers. But again, it's not worth the pain. And until I can drink it again, I will cherish my last partially-inebriated time with two very close friends in October 2003. We had a wonderful time at a nice little bar in Somerville, Mass. I was drinking Sam Adams. The friends bought me another to get me giggly. And then on the way back to their place, I made sure to yell some things about crabs. Then I broke a chair over some guy's head. All in all, it was a great night.