The prime minister is a...

pgs

Hall of Fame Member
Nov 29, 2008
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To each their own. I’m not a big fan of beer, & I probably have about six per year just to be sociably polite, and the same volume of wine approximately… for the same reason.

I’d rather drink tequila. Most people can’t or won’t or don’t like it or have had bad experiences, etc…but to each their own.
Tequilla is my hard alcohol of choice .
 

Retired_Can_Soldier

The End of the Dog is Coming!
Mar 19, 2006
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Best not to over consume the Sheila Tequila .
Yeah, I have a funny Easter story in which Jose Cuervo played a supporting role. The cast included four soldiers, two still serving, and my most immediate family. What initially went wrong was in the morning, after I was dispatched to do the bidding of my wonderful wife and missed both breakfast and lunch. Upon returning, we opened the bar in my basement. I cracked a mini keg, and there were at least eight varieties of beer, and a grand bottle of Jose. A couple of beers led to a couple more; then came Jose shots. There was some moose pepperoni, I remember that, and I, er, we, made it to the table for dinner. My wife was wonderful; she laid out two identical plates in front of me that, for some reason, turned into three or four. I don't remember much after that. I woke up in darkness and brushed against my wife and heard, "You assholes ruined my Easter dinner." This was a pivotal moment; I had two choices, really. I could assert my innocence or massage her shoulders and profess my sincere regret and apology profusely.
I chose the latter.
Tequila had its fun applications, but you had to respect it.
I don't drink that much anymore. I like the taste of beer, and I enjoy one in the hot tub or while banging away on the keyboard.
I don't get hammered or pissed. I grew out of it. Buzzed? Sure.
But once every couple of years. I have a partner with whom I'll always go on a tear, as long as there's a dirty old blues bar without a two-second rule.
That'll be coming due soon.
 

pgs

Hall of Fame Member
Nov 29, 2008
26,739
7,038
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B.C.
Yeah, I have a funny Easter story in which Jose Cuervo played a supporting role. The cast included four soldiers, two still serving, and my most immediate family. What initially went wrong was in the morning, after I was dispatched to do the bidding of my wonderful wife and missed both breakfast and lunch. Upon returning, we opened the bar in my basement. I cracked a mini keg, and there were at least eight varieties of beer, and a grand bottle of Jose. A couple of beers led to a couple more; then came Jose shots. There was some moose pepperoni, I remember that, and I, er, we, made it to the table for dinner. My wife was wonderful; she laid out two identical plates in front of me that, for some reason, turned into three or four. I don't remember much after that. I woke up in darkness and brushed against my wife and heard, "You assholes ruined my Easter dinner." This was a pivotal moment; I had two choices, really. I could assert my innocence or massage her shoulders and profess my sincere regret and apology profusely.
I chose the latter.
Tequila had its fun applications, but you had to respect it.
I don't drink that much anymore. I like the taste of beer, and I enjoy one in the hot tub or while banging away on the keyboard.
I don't get hammered or pissed. I grew out of it. Buzzed? Sure.
But once every couple of years. I have a partner with whom I'll always go on a tear, as long as there's a dirty old blues bar without a two-second rule.
That'll be coming due soon.
The not remembering part always scares me , what did I do that needs forgetting .
 
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