I know you’ve all been wondering what’s happened to me. I mean, what the hell? I used to post every day. And now it’s like, every five weeks. The answer, my fellow inebriates, is that a whole bunch of stuff happened.
For starters, did you know that nervous breakdowns aren’t just for people? OMG, right? And I think I had one, my fellow inebriates.
It all started back in summer. My dad was contemplating career change number eleventy. My mum was bouncing between 80- and 30-hour work weeks. Both of them were on Candy Crush level 700 or so. Some months we had $7,000; some months we had $2,000. The kids didn’t know whether we were coming or going. We tried to have a Gin Shoot-Out and lost all our data. We were that messed up around here at LBHQ.
So we did what any logically minded family on the knife-edge between pseudo-intellectualism and outright redneckery would do. We had a tequila party.
The invitees, aka the usual suspects:
- The wondrous Christine, with her canvas bag, this time full of treasures such as DON JULIO REPOSADO and my own very tiny bottle of HERENCIA DE PLATA
- A recent cube-farm colleague of my dad’s, bearing a special French apple cider (not reviewed because my dumbass parents recycled the bottle and I can’t remember what it was called)
- My dumbass parents, with a cheap big bottle of OLMECA BLANCO
- Our next-door neighbours G and W, packing ice, coolers, and CARIBOO LAGER
- My mum’s friend L, ostensibly as a sober observer
- Children of the above plus random ones from the neighbourhood
- A bunch of exorbitantly priced Mexican limes
- Two buckets of blackberries plucked off the bushes outside my mum’s bank (“When was the last time my f*$#%! bank gave me something free?”)
With all those ingredients and more, we were ready to blend. Into the Kitchen Aid went the lime juice, tequila, ice, and free bankberries.
While they were blending, we sampled Christine’s DON JULIO REPOSADO. On its last dregs, the bottle produced four thimblefuls, which my dumbass parents prepared to knock back the way you would a shot of CUERVO. Thankfully Christine and I knew better. DON JULIO, far from resembling its cheap Mexican cousins, is more like a fine scotch, wafting mellow honey notes, structured smokiness, and hints of orchard fruit. It is a sipping tequila—something most of our party weren’t aware existed—and it deserves to be savoured for its luxurious palate and mouth-filling texture. There are not enough words to describe how lovely the several viscous drops of DON JULIO that I had were. Ahhhh, Christine, you are a genius.
But you can’t cry over dead things, and that bottle was dead. If I could have crawled inside it like Barbara Eden and soaked up the remainder of the DON JULIO with my fur, I would have, but … on to the blender. It was ready with my mother’s dumbass idea of a margarita—mostly blackberries and lime, precious little OLMECA BLANCO. Almost without exception, every person she handed her concoction to came back minutes later to doctor it up with more tequila. Before long, the OLMECA BLANCO bottle was halfway done, and people were starting to reel around the yard. As usual the kids were going berserk too, and before his neurons got too tequila-saturated, my dad cooked everybody some hamburgers. It was as wholesome as it gets at LBHQ.
The DON JULIO now a distant memory, it was time to sample the OLMECA BLANCO straight-up. Its fresh, herbal nose was a distinct gear change from DON JULIO. But as far as cheap ($26.99 for 750 mL) tequila goes, you could do a lot worse. Peppery and slightly citrous, OLMECA BLANCO is a nice clean spirit that nevertheless screams margarita. It just belongs with exorbitant Mexican limes—so much so that you find yourself returning again and again to the blender, and then to the bottle to add more tequila. OLMECA BLANCO was a good find.
Our two buckets of bankberries just about kept pace with the OLMECA BLANCO, running out just before anyone became incoherent. But some of our neighbours were not getting along. I couldn’t possibly tell you which ones were arguing/administering the silent treatment because I simply don’t have enough brain cells to hold that information plus two booze reviews. Suffice to say it was human stuff, and the involved parties went home. Christine retreated to our uncomfortable futon, my parents put the kids to bed (sober thanks to my mum’s dumbass notions about how much tequila to put in a margarita), and I passed out on the kitchen counter among the empties. But I was left with a dawning thought—thinking of the incompatibility of some of our neighbours—that alcohol does not in fact bring people together. It does not generate the harmony I once thought. Imagine that, my fellow inebriates!
Over the next few weeks this thought continued to nag me. Compounding it, my parents said we were going to keep our escapades “down to a dull roar” for the foreseeable future. They made no more tasting plans. They bought no more tequila. And one, or maybe both, of my brain cells snapped.
What do you think, my fellow inebriates? I mean, about this idea that alcohol isn’t a good thing for friendships and families and neighbours? Is it all a load of crap? Or is this just another beastly way of messing with yours truly?
Not only do the kids regularly DRIVE me to drink; they WANT me to drink. Look at these awesome pictures Miss V drew for me.
My Fellow Inebriates,
My little summer companions are back to school today. Let’s hope this means my typists will resuscitate the blog, but they’ve gotten pretty random lately, so who knows? For now, we need some celestial drinking guidance. I shudder to think what you’ve all been drinking without a booze horoscope. Budd Light? Say it ain’t so, my fellow inebriates.
The stars told me they were getting tired of weekly horoscopes, and that they could do a better job if I appealed to them only once a month. “Okay,” I said. “I am going to spend the rest of the month ripped out of my head on whatever you suggest.” We made a deal, and here it is.
Aries, it’s time to get a job, and September is your month. Don’t say you have no skills, and even if you really don’t, you can fake your way through any interview with a carefully crafted cocktail of Rockstar energy drinks, vodka, triple sec, and cranberry juice (for that urinary tract infection the stars say you have). Make sure, as you vibrate your way through the interview, that you drop all the classic key words: you’re a team-playing, multi-tasking, out-of-the-box thinker, right? Hellz, yes, how could you not be with every brain cell buzzing? You won’t be able to sit still, but at least try to be organized. Arrange your files logically. Save a desk drawer for a flask. Your make-or-break period starts September 5, so load up. Maintain your knife-edge buzz and you’ll be saying yes to a promotion in January. Just remember: it all starts with vodka.
Taurus, you’re sniffing out autumn, ready to say good-bye to hot weather and stock up on booze brands that will warm your cockles (whatever cockles are). Run to your local booze shop and stock up on white rum, tequila, vodka, gin, and Cointreau. You need these items for a housewrecker party that will kick off your fall season and launch you down a new romantic path. Enjoy it while it lasts; October will bring you a world of horoscopic shit as the planets bang around in your sign. The more inebriated you can remain, the better.
Gemini, the planets are hanging out in your home/family house, hinting at some domestic improvements. Depending on what sort of Gemini you are, this could entail painting or recarpeting. It might just mean running the vacuum cleaner around occasionally. Or maybe the stars think you should pick up those dirty skid-marked ginchies in the corner or scrub that barf stain off the side of the toilet. Whatever the hell kind of Gemini you are, don’t tackle anything so ambitious without a healthy glass of tequila and grapefruit juice. You need the vitamins.
Cancer, you’ll be ready for fall once you exorcise the last of your summer travel itches. Too bad you don’t have any money. Solution? Get blasted on gin and creme de cassis, then ride the subway. You’ll meet lots of exotic people and maybe even have what we vagrant types call a “transit romance.” On September 5 the new moon lands in your “home” house, thus ending your urge to roam and setting off a lengthy agoraphobic phase. Make sure you buy some lottery tickets online because you are sure to win, and then you’ll never have to leave the house.
Leo, this is a fantastic month to be you. Mars brings its warlike energy into your sign, filling you with piss, vinegar, and Captain Morgan’s spiced rum with a peach schnapps chaser. This is an excellent time to start new projects as long as they don’t involve power tools or driving a motor vehicle. Your best days are September 12/13, when Mars and Uranus will combine their energies somehow to get you a raise at work. Enjoy, because October’s gonna suck.
Virgo, you’ll finally get the out-of-control birthday party you’ve always felt so deprived of. That’s because the new moon is in your sign, bringing positivity and joy (for ten days, then you’re wallowing in vomit). In addition to the new moon, Jupiter helps out by camping in your friendship house, so invite everyone you know, including that sketchy FB friend list of yours. They will arrive at your bash with bourbon and lime wedges, copulate in your spare bedroom, and soil all your towels. Jupiter loves this kind of shit, but Saturn will swing by and reprimand you with a ferocious hangover. It’ll be like listening to muppets screaming Happy Birthday inside your ear canal all day. Sounds good, right?
Libra, life has been tough this summer, but September brings a little hiatus. The sun, moon, and Mercury usher in a creative phase, so take any holidays you have outstanding and get to work on your screenplay. Too bad Mercury moves so quickly; this phase will be short. It will speed the hell out of your creative house and into your medical house—next thing you know some doctor will be kneading your gonads. All of which makes you feel that your life lacks…a plan. By the end of September life will be tough again and you’ll be on the psychiatrist’s couch—maybe even in a straitjacket. Here’s a special “soothing” drink for Libras who are on the verge of losing their shit:
- 1/2 cup creme de cacao
- 1/2 cup triple sec
- 1/2 cup Bailey’s
- 1/2 cup Kahlua
- 2 cups milk
Scorpio, last month was good for your career, but you didn’t have any tequila in the house then. September is very different, with Mars bringing its special bar-fight energy into your tenth house (fame). You will probably end up on YouTube clocking someone on the subway (see Cancer for potential victims). Worst-case scenario, you end up incarcerated; best-case scenario, you end up with lots of free time, as your under-appreciative boss cuts you loose so you can write your novel. And by all means do that. Apply for welfare and write your heart out; the stars say you will definitely secure a publisher as long as you keep fueling your writing with Hell Marys (Bloody Marys made with tequila). Ahhhh! Success will be yours.
Sagittarius, you will love September as it is extra-friendly this year, and your charisma will accelerate your career forward. The moment the new moon hits, great stuff will happen. Did you know there is an astrological house of other people’s money? Well, there totally is, and that’s where Jupiter is for you this month. And since Jupiter is so big and has such amazing gravity, this means that it will suck money from other people toward you. We’re talking venture capital, bonuses, investment payouts, pyramid schemes—you name it, if it constitutes some kind of illegitimate or shady earnings, you’re getting a windfall. And that means more Bacardi for you.
September looks good for you, Capricorn, especially after the new moon on the 5th, heralding a debauched vacation and/or an all-expenses-paid business trip. Academics feature strongly, as do publishing and screenwriting, so make time during your vacation to brush up any pitches you’ve been working on. Vodka will help with this, especially during the actual pitches, so stock up and load up. Your brain cells can take it because there is a planetary confluence in a highly intellectual part of your chart. Capricorns are intelligent to begin with, so please take the stars seriously and dumb yourself down with lashings of vodka and Blue Curacao before you become annoying.
Aquarius, you’re not usually money-oriented, but your chart is this month, which makes for a bit of a disconnect. The new moon will bring you career success and a probable bonus. Now, even though Aquarians don’t know shit about money and are constantly giving it away, think carefully about stocking your bar first. The stars told me you have some crappy beer and boxed wine but no nuts-and-bolts liquor items such as brandy, bitters, and vermouth. You need these ingredients to have a kick-ass bar, AND you need to keep some money just in case the stars crap on you in October (they are planning to). OMG, you might not have any cash flow until February. Also, there are some planets milling around in your eighth house, which all good astrologers know means hemorrhoids are coming.
Synergy is your key word for September, Pisces. Whatever you think you can do alone, you can do ten times as well with a partner. And whatever you think you can do sober, you can do ten times as well after consuming a great big vat of gin, vodka, and white wine*. Collaboration is highlighted both personally and professionally, making September 6/7 great days for hook-ups and or PowerPoint presentations. Enjoy, because September will move fast, giving way to a financially shaky October. Remember to charge your cell phone; lots of your friends think you’re a douchebag because you never pick up.