I drink beer.
I started early. I’m not proud of it, but this is the way the story goes. I drink beer. Million used to splurge and buy Heinekens and we would ride around in the green van blasting Deep Purple, drinking imported beers and laughing. We’d tell stories, that got deeper as we plundered further into the six pack, and sometimes….we would stop at ABC, lurking in the parking lot, until he would find another lost soul and bribe them into buying us more…and then we would tell stories that made us cry. Hug each other. Love each other.
And sometimes we would just laugh. And drive further. And maybe faster.
It was dangerous.
I outgrew that driving and drinking stage. (And thankfully lived !)
Now, I just drink beer. Ice cold Michelobs, stacked in the fridge like other people pile cheese and milk and broccoli. I drink beer. I don’t do the drunk girl wobbling aimlessly thing, the drown in my cup of spilt sorrows thing, the I’ll take off my clothes if I’ve had too many thing, the watch me cuss you out thing. I just drink beer.
I love the cold bubbly feel of it. The shape of the bottle. The way it tastes.
Oh God, your Mother’s going to hate me…..