We’re not suppose to romanticize or glamorize alcohol or drinking or drug stories during meetings when sharing but this aint no meeting so i’sa spin some yarns here so gather ’round sumn other okay just kidding I’ll type with real words, not in minxlish. I’ll try.

I’m watching the last man on earth right now and they’re drinking Scotch on a boat it brings to mind the kind of person who you drink Scotch with, someone you just know you’re being drug down to Hell with them for a Scotchy drunkies and there is no fightin’ it, with that there powerful spirit dawg you is in it. Scotch is like the K-hole of drunks. If you don’t know what a k-hole is it’s when you do Ketamine and you’re in a bubble and you cannot get out that’s why it’s called a hole. Not a good time. Mormons do it tho which is weird. They can’t have caffeine or alcohol but they do Ketamine “treatments”. Maybe that’s just the Mormon housewives show and not actual reality. A lot of my education sadly derives from reality television.

We did Scotch Fridays at the office. We even had a Scotch log and to be in Scotch Club you had to get a bottle on a Friday no one had got before and enter it in the Scotch spreadsheet log, that’s about it (we took turns but sometimes there would be two bottles to go around, deadly) then you get fucking gassed with your coworkers in the board room and if you’re the only woman like me then you are in charge of cheese and crackers for the piss tanks who turn into little toddlers, fuck, emails stop dead sharp at 4pm on Fridays — you have zero ability to write shit about fuck whilst on Scotch (I attempted to do our tweets, bad call lol) and then welp, lets call the plug and get his ass on over here ahh good times, good times, work hard play hard. Hangovers at an office are the worst days of your life. Shaking like a leaf, no sleep, you look rough and you don’t remember meetings you’ve had… sending emails out to coworkers about deliverables you’ve already heard word back on wtf.

I was never a Scotch person. Scotch people are made not born. You gotta brace yourself for the most disgusting shit you will ever taste and I’m not sorry either to admit that. I’m an alcoholic and I have tasted the shit rainbow of every kind of alcohol known to human, it’s all poison. You acquire an affinity for that you don’t get born craving it.

Peat? Smoke? Barley? …burning gasoline no different than moonshine make ya go blind? Yeah no that ain’t delicious. Have it with ice, that’s me. Some, a drop of water, some, just neat.

I like to twirl my glass around like some bastard in a sumptuous den wearing a cable knit chooch cardigan sweater fuck can you say dry drunk much? I guess after 197 days without booze you start to romanticize it a little bit.

On the train into the city Friday I sat beside the right chick it was perfect social harmony killing time til we got to Union station, she says, I smell alcohol and I said it isn’t me! This is the only time ever without a shadow of a doubt that it isn’t me she says oh youre an alcoholic oh good I love alcohol I laughed and said um I don’t think you know what you think that means but I said yes i love alcohol too, too much so I cant drink it anymore. I love a nice drink in a pretty glass a gorgeous cocktail perfectly crafted, mixologist porn I can recite circles around you about booze. I liked that she admitted to loving alcohol but she can drink it “normally” sorry, “enjoy” it responsibly, as alcohol marketing would have you hear.

which brings me to my next reveal which I was saving for THE BOOK.

At the beginning of the pandemic when I moved from Toronto to Burlington I worked for the LCBO, I was an essential worker. Me. Queen Smirnoff at the Liqbo (and I kept it secret from the internets). I am planning to deconstruct my time period of secretly working for 3 years in the lions den of hooch as a lush. I had to resign. They will come for me when I say what I got to say. I mean. I didn’t sign any NDAs and I don’t plan to lie about it — it’s my truth and my story. So fuck them I’m not scared. I learned a lot. It was good, it was bad, then it was ugly. I realized I am a very anxious person and being around alcohol as an alcoholic was like that girl who fell in a volcano, bitch, you too damn close.

However, obviously being an alcohol expert came in handy when recommending drinks from wine to tequila, beer, fucking everything, you name it, I drank the store. I am a living breathing database of wine, spirits, beer, ciders & RTD (ready-to-drink) knowledge. What do you wanna eat with that shit? I know that too. How hammered do you wanna get and money u wanna save blah blah all useless to me now. I’ve drank my last drink but I can still talk about it like how I fixate on foods and tv programs and internet garbage. Everything is alcohol to me now.

The inspiration of this post was Scotch. Mostly the drunken overpowering feeling of a Scotch drunk. The first couple sips you know what you’re getting into. Do not make plans, you are going nowhere. You will sound and look like Homer Simpson. Nothing you say will make any sense, you sound like a total idiot, and you won’t remember any promise or plan you made. And you’ll do it again despite the mega-hangover.

Vodka though. She was the one that really took me out. That’s a tale for another time.

Adios muchachos. Enjoy your Sunday.

If you’re struggling just know I have been there before and I am here to talk and tell you that you’re worth it and not alone and you can stop drinking. If you’re irritated just walk away, don’t let that glass of wine be the only thing that can get you through your life.

ps. leave me a comment here and tell me where you found this blog, my visits are skyrocketing right now so someone linked me someplace, but where? fucking tell me! actually might just be organic natural traffic coming from all my social feeds okay whatever i’m just a very curious need to know things type of person.

xo raymi