Martini Lunch

13 Mar

I HATE losing an hour of the day.  As a diurnal creature, I rather like when the days get long after winter.  I love the spring, when days start to include sunlight again, and everything is all fresh and blooming outside.  Daylight savings undoes all the progress that is finally made!  I think affecting the length of day by artificial means is pointless.  What is the reasoning again?  Agriculture?  Increased capitalism?  Farmers get up at 4 AM to milk the cows whether it is light or not–they do not care about phony time maneuvering.  And the people that have money and motivation to shop will do so in the dark too!

My lonely aunt invited Cool and me out to lunch, and I am always putting her off, so I figured we should go.  Plus it is Cool’s first Sunday off since October(?)  And my Aunt offered to pay!  The place she picked is also really ritzy and gourmet, so yesterday I was very excited about this luncheon.  I am a food epicure, meaning I love to eat.  I am also a martini connoisseur who has had a lot of practice picking the most awesome of concoctions, and this place is famous for them

Unfortunately, I started out tired this morning.  I didn’t get any studying finished, and I knew it likely wouldn’t happen after alcohol, so I no longer wanted to go out.  Also, I am agoraphobic on my days off of work.  I figured a little repose couldn’t hurt so I dragged myself to the restaurant none-the-less.  I also (erroneously, it turns out) thought I could study after my leisure time.

We were served a panoply of delicious food and strong martinis.  The waitress even complimented us on our orders, saying the bartender was especially impressed and would be making herself those drinks after work.  The array on our table was beautiful, yummy, and intoxicating!  Problem #1:  I am thin and 5’2″ translating to low natural alcohol tolerance.  Problem #2:  I am competitive, so I want to at the very least match everyone else’s drinking capacity, if not exceed it to look super-cool.  I just love when people comment how I can drink like a champ despite my petite size!

At the restaurant I vacillated over my menu choices, knowing I should drink something light in order to study productively, but wanting to have the same fancy martinis everyone else was partaking in.  After faltering and resigning myself to the martini, I promised myself I would get a bread and pasta meal and drink water to counter the alcohol, as well as just have the ONE drink. . .  Sadly, I did not even dither before ordering my second martini, because if Cool could handle it, and my 60 year old aunt was un-phased I should be able to keep up.

I don’t know what that is:  Strongly wanting one thing, than conceding to the opposite choice.  Maybe that’s what addiction is, maybe I’m simply rebellious, either way, I always regret it later.  And now that I’ve mentioned the possibility of alcoholism, I feel like you, my readers, will judge me harshly.  Just the word brings pejorative feelings.  I feel like it should be a consideration since I am Native American, and my father, maybe my paternal uncle, possibly my paternal grandfather, and my maternal great grandfather all had drinking problems.  Dismissing a family history like that could be even more detrimental than having undo paranoia, right?

Anyway, After my Aunt’s largess, the benevolent serving sizes, and the boon of alcohol, I felt ill.  Luckily, I managed to choke back my nausea on the car-ride home.  

Not so fortuitously, I was unable to concentrate on anything aside from my hot face, touchy belly, and buzzing brain.  The two martinis gave me an analgesic affect that rendered me unmotivated–to my great dismay.  Instead of cleaning the kitchen, getting my scrubs out for work, or studying for the GRE as I had originally intended, I fought the urge to vomit and took an afternoon nap passed out.  There would be no scholarly pursuits this morning or afternoon.

I’m not certain why booze has this malediction towards me.  I wonder if it’s hereditary, or because I have fond memories of my first drinking experiences, or if it’s like that for everyone.  It’s always been like that for me:  My parley between my ambitious goal-setting, and alcohol’s tempting laziness.  You would think an erudite about addiction such as myself (I’m an avid viewer of “Intervention”) would have very little problem saying no.  At home, I can usually win the debate with the wine and beer available to me.  During social events pretty alcoholic temptations use two unfair advantages in the negotiations against me–my anxiety at being in public, and my competitive nature.  I end up losing ground every time.

Now I’m hoping I don’t get a terrible hangover that makes me want to shirk on my GRE studies tonight.  And I really, really hope alcohol doesn’t make me feel like malinger tomorrow at work.  I would NEVER miss a day for alcohol-induced sickness, but I might move slower.  Why do I do this to myself???

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