We were out grocery shopping last weekend when I spotted a fruity-looking alcoholic beverage winking at me. It whispered, “Suzanne… Suzanne… Yo, girl, check me out.” While my boyfriend had his back turned towards the beer offerings, I leaned my head closer to the pink bottle and realized it was my old pal Jackie Daniels.
For those of you well-acquainted with alcohol, you’re probably thinking I’m a dummy and don’t know the real name of that particular brand. But you’re wrong. Jack Daniels comes in a manly-looking package and hue. Jackie Daniels comes in an elegantly thin bottle in girly colors.
When my boyfriend finally picked out the pack of Yuengling he wanted (which I introduced him too, by the way, because it’s the best beer ever), I expected him to laugh as I fondled two bottles of Jackie D in my hand. My alcohol allergy and extremely low tolerance for getting drunk are always quite entertaining to him, but he actually supported my choice. It’s pretty rare that I drink these days, so he must’ve just been glad I was making an effort to enjoy my nights off when I could take it.
Later that evening as I sat at home sipping my pink beverage and itching the crap out of my face and neck, I was thinking how good I felt. Relaxed body, a still mind, and happy memories of drinking days gone by. I’ve had enough booze at this point to know what I do and do not like, and what will send my allergies into overdrive. Except Scotch. I did not realize there was a difference between Whiskey and Scotch until a few days ago when I mistakenly poured Scotch into my Bailey’s and regretted the full thirty minutes it took me to finish my drink. I hate you, Scotch. You go to hell and you don’t come back here ever again, Scotch. Ugh.
So like I was saying, I have a pretty good sense of what I do like these days, though it’s funny how my tastes have changed over the years. I’m sure that goes for everyone, right?