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

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.

interior, barlife,

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.

interior, barlife,

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.

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 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…

The Lemon Song

My 805Muse is trying to get back into my life. After the last email conversation we had, he waits a few weeks (his normal routine) to answer me.

On May 8th: “had to peek thought so so busy…thoughts of your last email but with no comment cuz I’d really rather catch you when we can chat here, yes?

I suggested he get a texting app. He then replied with “OR…maybe I should consider a shopping spree like shoes or heels? Ship you sumpin fun or sumpin hot or sumpin untamable? :)”

I didn’t answer him. My #1 fan was here visiting, so I didn’t want to start a conversation with him.

On May 29th, while on my way to O’Hare Airport I check my email and find a few different emails from him. He didn’t send one lengthy email, but several small one thought or one sentence emails. So annoying. Read more about my 805muse.

I know. Shoes? The tat shop for another little one! a cool bar for a drink and pool and fun talk…maybe not in this order.”

“if you were here, i’d suit myself and you too. AND you’d like it! shoes not required…”

“would you like our time on tape? your own copy? something to hide or look at later? think about while you are on your vibrating bike? wind in face and mouth ready for a cold beer and a smile? 😀 I would make sure you got fed.”

“out the door for errands. peeks tomorrow and and update for our minds. nice to see your face and hear from you. the shoe thing has me shopping in my head for you. if you were here? we’d shop together…man.”

Those were each a separate emails. I never answered them, until this morning. I sent him a brief audio clip, instead of a typed email. He quickly responded with “a reply from der car…FUN!!! do you reach down between your legs while driving? lol who does “squeeze my lemon” anyway? Phil Collins? (i see you giggling)

I sent him another quick audio after work. Telling him about heading out to the bar for a end of year work party. Within seconds I get another email.”YUM! a watering hole. *sigh* i’d so be buying thw ater and having you at my side while we did fish, brothers & water OR beers & whiskey. GULP. Led Zep sings derlemon song… and when you’re done? When work is out? Play me Please… sit with me by the pool!!!! how fun is THAT? :D”

The game that we play is that we express our sentiment or emotions through music, lyrics. I knew at some point he would send me the link to the song or the mp3. Next email was the link with the statement “Can’t quit you!

I looked up the lyrics. I know that my muse prefers Blues/Rock genre of music. One of the things I respected about him, was that he knew his music. He & I always had that, holding us together. Add in that we communicate our feelings through the music. I had never met anyone that did that, besides myself.

I should have quit you, long time ago. [X2]
I wouldn’t be here, my children, down on this killin’ floor. I should have listened, baby, to my second mind [X2]
Everytime I go away and leave you, darling, you send me the blues way down the lineSaid, people worry I can’t keep you satisfied. 
Let me tell you baby, you ain’t nothin but a two-bit, no-good jive. Went to sleep last night, worked as hard as I can, 
Bring home my money, you take my money, give it to another man. 
I should have quit you, baby, such a long time ago. 
I wouldn’t be here with all my troubles, down on this killing floor. 

Squeeze me baby, till the juice runs down my leg. [X2]
The way you squeeze my lemon, I’m gonna fall right out of bed. 

I’m gonna leave my children down on this killing floor. – “The Lemon Song” by Led Zeppelin

The bold lettering are the lyrics that he is sharing with me. He “can’t quit me” even after a year away from me. It will be six years in July. How can two people have an internet relationship for that long? He continued sending me another video link to a Led Zeppelin tribute band of all females. They were pretty good.

Then his final email came. “shine on you crazy diamond… 🙂 we’d have a blast at a concert together.  You think? :D”


I am pretty positive that after reading his emails that he is possibly off the wagon. Something in my gut tells me that he is drinking a bit, along with the idea that he is telling me this stuff in hopes that his sentiments will be accepted. I think he thinks this is what I want from him. Maybe once upon a time, however not anymore. I want the stuff that he can’t give me. His emotion, a peek into his soul & spirit of who he truly is. I want inside of him. It’s a waste of time for us, he has gotten stuck. I’m walking too far ahead. This type of conversation from him no longer entices me. I’m not sure if I will answer him any time soon. Why should I?

Alcohol, Drugs & Mental Health

Have you used alcohol or drugs to manage your mental health symptoms? How did that start? 

It was only last year when I “learned” of my issues. I would always joke about certain issues, but never knew the cause or the proper terms, names for all of it.

I started drinking heavily my senior year in high school. I had a best friend who partied harder than I did. She would go into school drunk. I didn’t do that until after I really started becoming truly rebellious. I’m not sure if it was a mental health issue or not. I knew that in social gatherings I would be so uncomfortable, the anxiety would be there. I learned somewhere that alcohol took the edge off. I would drink at the football games. Brought my peppermint schnapps to add some hot chocolate to and just walk around the high school grounds.

I couldn’t be alcohol, because I was too young. However, I had a few older cousins who taught me a few tricks. When I would get scared I would stand outside a liquor store and ask a stranger to buy me some cheap booze. I would tip him a 5 or 10 for his deed. I would get some of the nastiest booze. Ya know the bottom shelf stuff. Wild Irish Rose was one. That I would drink straight from the bottle. Usually before I left my house. So by the time I got to the party I was buzzing. I guess that’s why even today, when I meet up with old friends and I’m sober the first question is “You ok? You’re not acting like the normal you.”

Normal me?! That was a buzzed hyped up party girl.

I continued to drink heavily. Wednesday through Saturday night. Then things changed. Life happened. I won’t go into any of that. Again looking back, there have been many periods of my life when I drink more than others. There were years of dryness. Alcohol never entering my mind. Not giving it a thought. Any time there was a family function, wedding, funeral or just weekend get togethers when the “elders” would be there. I was buzzed. Not high on drugs,but alcohol. I guess then the answer would be yes. Liquid courage to face the family. the negative comments for any one and everyone. Especially my father, Jesus, was he an asshole.

Let’s speed up to present day. In 2007 I got busted for “self-medicating.” That’s what they called it. Because at the time I was suffering from depression. My daughter moved out at 17 to live with her 21 year boyfriend. I had lost my oldest son to the system thanks to that bitch of a girlfriend. I was spiraling down into the black hole of nothingness. I slipped into a place that was full of self-loathing & self-hatred. I didn’t know it back then, yes. I was trying to cope. Not knowing there were more positive ways of coping, dealing with the emotional pain I was suffering as a mother.

I only drink when I go out socially. There are times when I find it difficult to watch how much I drink & how fast I drink it. Like potato chips, it’s difficult to have just one. However, if the event is boring, I don’t drink that much. It’s when I’m having a really good time that I tend to get carried away. Do I think I have a problem? According to the professionals, NO. I don’t meet the requirements, nor has any of these behaviors effected my life in a negative way. There ya have it, just a bit more about me and my past.


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