Toast before doing a shot

Who makes toasts anymore?!

People in my bar do. Sometimes. It just really depends on the occasion and who bought the shot. The person who bought the round of shots is the one who offers the toast.

When I’m in my bar I have noticed that I tend to get a lot of shots. I often feel bad because I never have enough money to reciprocate the action. I do keep a mental record of those who have shown me this type of generosity for the times that I do have extra cash to share. There are times when I will go without the alcohol so that I can repay the favors in shots.

I do love my shots. The alcohol hits fast and hard and the yukky taste doesn’t last for long. I no longer do shots of Tequila, Jose, Patron or any other type. Don’t do shots of Lord Calvart, Rumplemintz, Goldschlager, Yukon jack. Those are just a few that I quit.

I can drink a shot of RumChata with Frangelico, Dr Macgillicuddys, Bird Dog Strawberry whiskey. I limit my shots of Jägermeister because bad things happen when I drink too much of that.

taost before a shot. atozchallenge

On the Rocks

My dive bar isn’t a classy place far from it, but the booze is cheap and there is a certain atmosphere that I enjoy when I’m there. There are times when I order a Henry’s Hard Soda or a Barefoot Spritzer and I will ask for a glass of ice. alcohol awareness month

I’ve always wanted to be sitting in a upscale bar and hear someone order a drink on the rocks.

I hear “you want a glass with ice?”

“Yes Please.” And it makes the booze go down quicker and smoother. I have switched back to my old stand-by drink Malibu Rum and pineapple juice. The ice makes it taste so good, refreshing and it goes down quickly. I also love drinking Coconut Mules that’s loaded with tons of ice in the brass mug and its so cold and delicious.

I like sitting on the bar stool with my drink full of ice and a straw so I can nervously stir my drink while waiting on my friends.

ice, a to z challenge, sassycat3000, booze, rum and pineapple

Drinks and Darts at the Dive bar

It’s free pizza night at my dive bar. The last time I was there was on last week. I wentsassycat3000, a to z challenge, latina blogger, Drinks and Darts at the Dive bar there to see my best friend shoot darts because her team was playing at my bar. I had stayed away for Lent. Yes, I’m no longer a practicing Catholic, but I thought it would be a good excuse to remove myself from the drama of a dive bar.

A lot has changed since I’ve been away for those few weeks. Bartenders getting fired, new bartenders suck and probably wont be there long. The drunks want their drinks fast and not have to wait 10 minutes for a beer. The jukebox is no longer connected to the internet because the bartender who made sure the bill was paid is no longer working there and now everything is kind of upside down.

THE BEST THING A DRUNKARD CAN DO IS BUY A ROUND OF DRINKS FOR A CROWED BAR

There is no more restaurant style pizza, but wings and frozen pizza. WHA?! Frozen pizza?! I guess drunks will eat anything if its free and there is booze involved. I’m not one for chicken wings, so I continued to drink my pineapple juice and Malibu Rum. I sipped my cocktail while listening to some of the female regulars go on about each other while each one of them took turns going to the LR. One conversation got only ugly when two of the women were arguing about having to take another one of them home. There were a few “fuck you’s” exchanged and I thought to myself “this is the reason I don’t have female friends.” I would have told both of them to fuck off, not to feel obligated that I have to take one of them home.

sassycat3000, a to z challenge, latina blogger, Drinks and Darts at the Dive barI wrote about the dive bar once before, but I didn’t go into detail about the patrons, the drunks. They are like an extended dysfunctional family. Everyone knows everyone, they all are related by some way or they grew up with each other, but John Doe can’t just walk in and sit down to have a drink. The bar is so far off the main path its difficult just to find the door.

Sometimes, the atmosphere is dark and cold. Other times its filled with crazy drama and other times it’s filled with the drunkest of men. When glasses fall and break to spilling someone else’s drink, the drunks are made to clean up their messes.

ALWAYS TOAST BEFORE DOING A SHOT

As the evening processes and the drunker every one becomes, more drinks are bought, shots and toasts are made. Since Mr. Sam & I have been “together” the regulars now embrace him as one of their own which makes me happy. I am ashamed to admit that I wanted to have Mr. Sam replace Charlie and those good times. Yet on the other hand I am glad I have Mr. Sam there with me, because it’s now once again that the alcohol flows again like milk in the land of milk and honey.

sassycat3000, a to z challenge, latina blogger, Drinks and Darts at the Dive bar

THE BAR CLOCK MOVES FROM 10 O’CLOCK TO LAST CALL IN THE BLINK OF AN EYE

I used to shoot darts back in the 90’s. I used to watch Charlie play a few years ago, he had used my darts and destroyed them. I need to get some new ones, but I don’t play that often so its now on the top of my list. However, there are a few guys there that are hardcore. sassycat3000, a to z challenge, latina blogger, Drinks and Darts at the Dive barI always tell myself that I am only staying for a few drinks, one or two. Regrettably it never turns out the way, I always end up staying too long. I end up trying to fit in my desires in to a short amount of time when I should have cut my drinking & socializing time down instead. I’ll never learn, but the practice is fun & exciting.

I can’t get away from them. 

It was on Fat Tuesday, I was at my home turf bar I’ll refer to as “The Railway Station.” I had decided I was giving up my home bar for the 40 days of Lent even though I’m no longer a practicing Catholic. However I miss the social drinking and visiting with friends well they’re not really friends they’re my drinking buddies. But I do have one or two girlfriends that I do like to drink with. My close friend always goes out on Tuesday’s so I decided to go to her bar and have a drink. I found that it’s not the same feeling that I need, want or looking for nothing like what I get from the Railway Station. Maybe it’s because I know everybody there but then I didn’t know people at my friends bar. The drinks are more expensive, the music is different, the people are different. I was thinking I’m not really having any fun here. I guess because I like watching people and  I didn’t find any interesting enough to watch and I was missing Mr. Sam because Mr. Sam and I do have fun together. 

During the evening a few of the patrons from the Railway Station walked in to the bar I tried avoiding them but one of the old guys came and talked to me filled me in on all the gossip that I have been missing out on for the last two weeks. He talked about going out on a date with one of the bar girls and acquaintance of mine. He asked if she told me about the date, I said no I hadn’t heard from her in two weeks since Fat Tuesday. I told Mr. Sam at a different time that it bothered me that some of these people say we’re friends but you know deep down inside you’re not friends you’re just drinking buddies.  Folks who meet in a bar and share the love of alcohol. 

Do I miss drinking? Sometimes I miss the feeling that the alcohol gives me. Other times I don’t think about it all. Most of the time I like sitting and watching the people drink their alcohol.

I finally left when one of the bartenders from the Railway Station walked in. He’s always been a bit of a dick to me. I’m not sure why, but I dislike his bartender manners. He can make a delicious coconut mule, lemon drop shot and other shots. I totally ignored him like he does me on Facebook. It was 9pm and I was yawning, had nursed my drink for the last two hours. I was totally bored. I left. Home by 10:30pm. Wishing I was still in the in-crowd, wishing I could be drinking where I felt comfortable. I can’t wait until Easter gets here.

Interior – The Dive Bar

When you walk inside you can’t help but to notice the untreated hard wood floors. The wood-paneled walls, the pool tables and the bathroom doors with huge wooden handles that look like they’re from the Viking period.

Continuing to walking you see the most beautiful tables. The tables are cuts made from trees. Odd shaped, bark still on the sides and covered in a thick shellac. A few slot machines are there for those who enjoy to toss their money away.

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At the bar there is an overload of visual stimuli. There are stickers plastered all over the glass door that leads inside the walk-in cooler. There is a beer barrel sticking out of the wall with a tap on it for the beer of the week. There is random candy boxes, potato chips and other snacks placed on the bar. The top of the bar is covered with bottles and bottles of every sort of alcohol.

There is a tiny cooler that keeps cold single bottles of wine, such as Barefoot. There are single bottles of Henry’s Hard Soda, Mike’s Hard varieties. And different flavored beer like the blueberry stuff, which is totally gross.

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The Interior of this dive bar has always been interesting, dark and reminded me of something out of the 70’s that hasn’t caught up to present day. A person can’t sit there and not find something to stare at. Whether its one of the big screen TV’s or if it’s any of the bizarre, unique and quirky items hanging somewhere in that bar.

Feeling Out of Sorts [BFMH2016]

Tonight I was in the mood to have an adult beverage. I like going after work, stopping in with the work crowd. I seemed some out spaceytonight, Astro got a bit annoyed with me with I dropped the darts off the table. I’m not normally out of sorts. Not sure why I was, but I know that the alcohol hit me quick. I only had two bottles and then I left for home.henrys hard soda, alcohol, the bar

Before I left. A guy walked into the joint, I thought for a moment I thought it was Charlie. But then I remembered that Charlie is away at camp. This guy sat in the same spot that was reserved for Charlie. He spoke to Charlies old crew. I asked a friend of a friend “Who is that guy? I’ve hadn’t seen him in here before?” One of the friends says “that’s Charlie.”

I said nothing, just sat there for a second. Then the other friend said “No that’s not Charlie, he’s away at camp. He’ll be there for a while.” Again I’m sitting there spaced out, missing Charlie and wishing I would have told him that I was sorry. Why does it always end up that way? The last time is always the worst time, ending a relationship on a horrible note. Anyway, has my mind is wandering in that last moment Charlie & I were together Stan walks up to me.

Stan is an older gentleman who went down hill when his wife passed away last year. He couldn’t seem to keep it together. He is a really sweet old guy. He taps me on the shoulder and asks “How’s your brother? Is he still at camp? No way for him to get out, huh? Going to stay there for a long time, huh? He’s a good guy but made some bad decisions.” Now the one friend who said that Charlie was away also had a brief fling with him. She had been one of my replacements when I was taking a break from him. She is seriously a broken chick. She has talked to me, helped me take a mutual friend home because she was too drunk to drive. But at no time did I ever tell her who I am.

Everyone in the bar treats me differently than the others. Charlie’s other girls never stayed very long. But I’m the one everyone knows, who gets the respect of being Charlie’s girl. God how I miss his toxic behavior in my life. And I only miss it because his behavior kept me grounded. Grounded you say? Well in the way that Charlie acted out for the both of us and then I didn’t have to. I didn’t have to put my life on the line, by acting out impulsively. Sure I did with Charlie, the sex, the drugs, the booze and the running game and hustle. I was kept close to him, I felt safe in a twisted way. I guess that’s way I miss him. He’s the crazy part of me, always running. But when I get tired, exhausted and want to try to be normal I go home. Where I hide myself from the world.

As I sat there in the bar, I looked around at the people sitting there. Decided the best thing for me right now would be to go home. And so I did.

[Even though the “Blog for Mental Health” meme has been disconnected I continued to share…I pledge my commitment to the Blog for Mental Health 2014 Project. I will blog about mental health topics not only for myself, but for others. By displaying this badge, I show my pride, dedication, and acceptance for mental health. I use this to promote mental health education in the struggle to erase stigma.]

Friday Night I needed a Drink

This past Friday night I posted on my Facebook page that I needed a drink. Normally I wouldn’t get a quick response from anyone. This night was different, I received a text from a childhood friend who asked if I wanted to go to a festival out-of-town.wine spritzer

I agreed. She told me to bring my camera. When I arrived at her home she offered me a glass of wine. She recently bought two VIP tickets to see “The Struts” in concert. She asked if I was interested in going. FUCK, really?! I’m terrified to fly alone, she already purchased her ticket. The reason she wants me to go is because she said “I know you take some awesome fucking pictures and who else loves glam rock as much as I do?!”

I do like the band. They’re British! lol and I do like glam rock.

I drove to the little town, we stopped at a little bar & ordered drinks. She drinks. Drinks a lot. A lot more than I do. My limit is 8 – 9 drinks. She ordered a vodka/cranberry. I ordered a wine spritzer which Pete the bartender was the idea of a perfect bartender. Super friendly. Accommodating.

We walked to the festival, more drinks. I hate beer. And most of the time these festivals only have beer, I ended drinking “Straw-ber-rita” by Bud. One. Two and then half of one of my friends. I don’t drink them slow either. She knows so many people who are in the local music community. I need something to help me come out of my shell. My self-esteem has hit a low, due to the weight I’ve recently gained. Now in my head I think “starting tomorrow I’m gonna hit the exercise trail!! TOMORROW!!!”

I ask myself “how bad do you want this?!” That’s my motivation. I need it. Gotta do it. FUCK.

Drinking alcohol doesn’t help I know. We left the festival and walked back to the bar. I had another wine sprizter which I ended up knocking half of it over because I it the glass with my elbow when I turned around to talk to someone. I realized at that moment that I had a brief second long blackout. I really have no idea how I spilled the drink. How does anyone spill a drink on the bar? I didn’t feel it on my arm or elbow. My girlfriend is about two drinks ahead of me, I can tell she’s buzzed. I know I felt that euphoric feeling, the one you get before you start slurring your words when you talk.

alcoholWe went back into the city, where she ended up going home and I stopped off at “the hole.” I miss Charlie, yeah I said this before. Another friend was there, she has a huge crush on Charlie and always hoping he’ll be there. But I’m not telling her that he’s never coming back. My jealous comes out when I hear her using first names with his x-crew. It really bothers me, not sure why. Maybe it’s because I want a place that’s mine, suddenly she comes along wanting to take a spot here. Anyway, I order a Barefoot sprizter. Talk to a few guys there. She introduces me to one of her friends, I’ve never met him before but the name rings loud. Charlie had gotten into a fight with him, knocked him out cold with one punch. Then the boys from the other crew came in looking for a chance to get even for the embarrassment. One of many reasons why Charlie is 86’ed from the bar.

“We’re all going up to Bruce’s place before they close for one drink.” I had no plans on going. Some how I ended up drinking 3 other people besides myself there. He ended up buying me another drink and a shot. I could start to feel the alcohol swirling up at the top of my throat, but soon settled. Then I felt my stomach flare up, my ulcer must be screaming at me to stop, but at this point I’m deaf from the loud music from the night.

He wanted to give me a ride on his motorcycle, but I just met him and even though it’s just down the street a lot can happen just a few blocks from home. I said “Thanks, but no.” He kept trying to get me to ride with him. I thought if Charlie was here, I wouldn’t even have been in this position. There would have been a fight, but I would be with Charlie having fun, not alone. Sure, hubby is home waiting, but he’s not one for all this drama & craziness. It’s one thing for me play in the playground of drunkenness but it’s another for him to do it.

Back to my home turf, it’s almost closing time. Another drink and another shot later we are getting kicked out of the bar. Even though we know the owner, he’s wanting to get out quick. I was so hungry, this guy wanted me to follow him to his sister’s house so we could all party. He kept asking me what I was going to do after this. SHIT. I’m going home and going to bed, fucker!italian beef

I drove across town to my favorite fast drunk comfort food joint is and ordered my usual. Chowed on the super fresh hot fires while driving home. Ate half the sandwich and leaned back on the sofa, passed out at some point. Put the food away, went back to the sofa and slept there. I have never been too lazy to walk up the stairs to go to bed to sleep, but this time I was. I heard him walk down the stairs early, I walked up the stairs to pass out again. Woke up around 1pm. Really?! shit, the guilt is the first emotion I feel. He could care less, as long as I had fun & no problems. I ate some more, felt slightly sick, couldn’t stop sweating. I didn’t toss my cookies, but damn. I wet a washcloth, placed it on my head, passed out for another more couple hours. I think that I had not eaten, I started working again and haven’t been sleeping well had something to do with all that.

In the back of my mind I thought “no more,” however I know that’s not gonna happen. I wont need to go out again for a while, give it a couple of weeks.

Alcohol helps make New Acquaintances…

Since Charlie has been gone from my life, I have needed to replace my drinking partner. It’s not always easy to do. A person who clicks with me isn’t always the easiest to find. Not to mention the high that I need when I’m out drinking with my drinking buddy.

[TRIGGER WARNING; for those who have issues with Alcohol & bar life.]

Charlie & I had a game that was all our own. Since he’s been 86’ed from “the hole” life there hasn’t been the same for me. I miss him. I miss sitting at the cool table. It’s not actually the cool table it’s more like the area of the bar where the cool, important patrons sit. I don’t sit there anymore. I haven’t been treated like an outcast (yet). I still get the respect from the cool kids. It’s just not the same, ya know?

There are only a few bartenders that I actually know and am comfortable with. They know what I drink and are friendly to me. They don’t stand there & talk to me like they do the others. They acknowledge who I am, now that the name Charlie is no longer spoken it’s pretty calm in there. One of his former crew members approached me “Can we talk outside?” Those sitting around me gasped for air. I didn’t panic because I hadn’t done nor said anything wrong. I think. Not this time anyway. “Do you know Dashing Johnny?”

“No, why?”

“FUCK! Charlie better not be screwing me over again with some bullshit. Your name got bought up for a reference for Dashing Johnny.”

“Ah, no. Don’t know him. Sorry.”

“My apologizes, I just thought I’d check out it.”

“Ok. Cool.”

I stood there with a dumb look on my face as he lit a cigarette. Other patrons walked out to smoke & I took that as my cue to return inside.

I met a friendly older woman there who Charlie had mentioned to be cautious of. He spoke of her in riddles, never came out and said exactly what he meant. He made it clear that I was to be careful of her. She’s funny, smart and looks a bit worn.  She also has health issues, which can be made worse when drinking & smoking.

We went for a drink that turned into a few more.

I should probably start referring to her as tileface. She ends up on the bathroom floor, not every time but its to the point where almost all the bar patrons know how she is.  She’s that friendly older woman who “loves it when you buy me shots.” If someone buys me a drink, that’s great. I’m not one to buy them for others, mostly for just my drinking buddy.Barefoot and casamigos

Drinking my new drink “Barefoot Spritzer” and she’s drinking something with Jack in it. We chatted. I also met another chick who is covered in scars from where she had cut herself several times over. There are tattoos that cover her skin as well. She stops by after work before she heads home. She is a woman who will not be afraid to admit that she’s a slut. That she calls the shots to her life, dependent on no one for whatever she needs. However, I still see the pain in her eyes. After talking to her I realize that she was the one that Charlie had moved in with last year when I had broken my foot. He told me he was using her because she was willing to give him a warm place to sleep, cook his meals, transport him places. She shared that she quickly grew tired of being used and kicked him out.

I start to lose her voice in a sea of bar noise I look across the bar to the cool table. I see Charlie’s former crew looking at me. I swear I almost felt their judgment, judging me for sitting here talking to “the cutter.” Most of the patrons know her reputation & they know she cuts herself. Should I judge her for that? Nope. We continue to share stories about the high of sex. She asked me if I am a sex addict. I revealed some of my sex experiences to her. Nothing too detailed just enough to let her know we have something in common. However, I’m no longer that person. That person only exists in my memories, that person who got drunk and fucked strangers was someone who needed to feel something because numbness & emptiness. I feel for her.

I had drank enough to feel a wonderful buzz. The bartender had given me a shot of Casamigos. George Clooney’s tequila. Made in Jalisco Mexico where my family is from, tastes so smooth going down cold. It was the kick I needed to push my buzz over the edge. You know that feeling, when you can talk to total strangers, when you think you can dance and that everybody wants you. LOL. I become friendly, touchy and loud. I continued to enjoy my buzz for just a little while longer…

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