Drinkin' Island is inside each of us, my son.

I'm not much for alcohol, but years and years ago I was one-half of an evening that involved two people and eight rapidly-consumed Irish Car Bombs. It began at around 8pm and ended somewhere in the neighborhood of 8:25. Or, depending on your measure, ended at around 5 the next morning when I woke up on my friend's floor and walked thirty-five of the hundred or so blocks home before falling into a cab, leaving behind my glasses and a giant wedge of my postcollegiate dignity. Or, by yet a third measure, ended at 10am four days later when the hangover finally slouched out of my system and toward Bethlehem to be born.

On the one-year anniversary of that lost night, I did an Irish Car Bomb in its honor and nearly puked. Never again, I vowed, will that unholy combination of Guinness and Bailey's pass my lips.

Turns out I am not exactly nun-caliber when it comes to sticking to vows (any future husbands, please take note), since I had one and a half this weekend at Mr. B's birthday party. I am pleased to report that I lost neither consciousness nor my lunch.

I feel like adulthood has finally arrived. It is like my liver has had its bat mitzvah.

Post title taken from this vital piece of Americana.


RW said...

And now that adulthood has had its way with you, may I recommend vodka-based fruit drinks? You get where you're going and have vitamin C too!

Last Knight said...

Oh, the Irish car bomb... so wrong and yet, so tasty.

I maintain, however, that jaeger bombs remain the fruit of the devil.

Love Kpop said...

I'm looking for a few bugs in my post. But I think I should have someone look and point out it.