🍺 My room was disgusting. Dirty dishes piled up under my bed, and mountains of 1) clean, 2) worn-but-wearable, and 3) downright nasty clothes covered the floor. The quickest way to distinguish one from the other was to take a big whiff. (I still do that.)
🍺 I recently unearthed my high school transcripts. It was humbling to see my teenage fuckery reflected in half-assed grades. Thus, a drinking game was born. Take a swig when you see “talks incessantly.” Chug-a-lug for “not working to potential.”
🍺 We didn’t have Big Brother narcing us out if we missed class. I was incarcerated when my 4th period absences were magnified by my 5th period attendance. When the hammer came down, my folks were notified and I was suspended. Mom sentenced me to three weeks in solitary, with no hope of parole.
🍺 Everyone smoked, even if it was secondhand. Non-smokers would light up when they got lit up. Benson & Hedges menthol 100’s were the ‘80’s ladies guilty pleasure. Our love lasted a lung time, until I couldn’t stand the smell of my own butt(s).
🍺 When I was 16, I fell in love with a 21-year old co-worker that lasted a year. He was a great first boyfriend, respectful, mature, and experienced. He drove me home, multiple times, in his cherry red Camaro.
🍺 By virtue of the older boyfriend and a big rack, I’d boot beer for my Grade 12 friends, way before I was legal. With a drinking age of 19, I found myself popular with the older kids whose balls still hadn’t dropped.
🍺 Saskatchewan bush parties were epic. We’d cruise to Paradise or Three-Mile Grove on the outskirts of town, and strap on beer goggles. To make curfew, I jumped in a truck with a drunk driver. We skidded off a small bridge, and hit the ice. It’s not true that only snitches get stitches.
🍺 I was never promiscuous, but I had my share of steamy windows. I can count the number of guys I’ve slept with on an abacus. Fun fact: sixty-nine percent of people find something dirty in every sentence!
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