Friday, September 15, 2006

my dearest riders -- blog on!

when kathleen invited me along on this journey, i wasn't sure i could juggle all of my blogs. because you see i'm a blog addict, and at that point i'm not even sure how many blogs i had. right now i have four counting this one. wait -- five. wait -- six. wait -- seven. six and seven don't count because they're test blogs. but today is my last day at riding with the top down because i've simply spread myself too thin. but that doesn't mean i won't be back -- probably daily -- because... well, because i'm an addict.

i think deb is a fantastic addition, and i've admired her and her publishing company from afar for many years, so i'll definitely be back to pick her brain! and helen... can't say enough about helen. she keeps this place running. she puts our schedule together. she's there when the pictures are all screwed up -- which in turns makes the blog all screwed up. helen is definitely my sister.

best of luck, gals!



PS: i don't want this to turn into a goodbye post, so....

tell us about the first time you got drunk.

come on.

you can do it.

i went to a party at THE CLEARING. on a farm in illinois. i was around 14. my "date" handed me a beer. i'd tasted my share of beer. from the time i was small, my grandmother used to let me sip her beer. german, you know. well, i guzzled this baby, and i swear my eyes were crossed before i was done. i couldn't see anything! i was talking really loud, and using huge gestures. and people were laughing their asses off, but i didn't understand why. every time i said something everybody roared. my older brother came over and asked my date how much beer i'd had. i don't think he believed it when jerry told him just one. i ended up having to stay the night at another girl's house because i couldn't go home. i never threw up, and i've never been drunk like that ever again. it wasn't like a regular drunk. it was trippy and euphoric.



Betina Krahn said...

I am NOT saying goodbye. . . so I will only say that I've been drunk once in my life. My senior year of college. As I was leaving campus to do my student teaching (wouldn't be back except for graduation) my friends took notoriously teetotaling me to our favorite bar and bought me gin,lemon&sevens to celebrate. I was fine until I tried to stand up. We have a devil of a time getting me home. And I remember watching everyone and thinking they were really annoying, the way they kept asking me if I was all right and trying to help me. A lesson in "drunk logic" if there is such a thing. I thought I was behaving quite normally except for the walking thing. They were acting like I was insane. Made me annoyed.
More drunk logic. Quite a lesson. Not repeated. Shared with my sons at the appropriate age, but they never reported back if it was helpful to them.

I'm a one drink woman. . . or less now. Have been for years. sigh.

Good Luck with Pale Immortal, Anne! It's wonderful!

Debra Dixon said...

Anne-- Bummer, dude. That's all I'm going to say. Now on to drinking...

Boone's Farm Strawberry Hill. If I've got that correctly. It's been soooo long. The usual high school thing. And I'm a very cheap drunk. To this day it's just not cost effective for me to drink because one drink and the evening's over! I'm sliding out of my seat to fold up neatly under the table in to a blissful sleep.

My editor kept refilling my wine glass--despite my feeble protestations that I'm not much of a wine person--and I kept thinking, 'just put your big girl panties on, run with the big dogs, and keep it together long enough to get out of the cab without falling down.' I was a newly published author and didn't want to offend. I thought I'd pulled it off quite well. But according to friends I was "charmingly but pretty much lit."

Which they'd enjoyed tremendously because no one has ever seen me drunk as an adult.

My poor husband enjoys wine and has to order by the glass because I sooo don't get the taste of it! I'd rather have a virgin girlie drink like a chi-chi. He just looks skyward with an eye roll and then orders something sophisticated or manly--like scotch. Yuck!

Who else thinks scotch tastes like dirty gym socks???

Helen Brenna said...

Southern Comfort. I was sixteen and heading to the school dance with my best friend and my brother.

By the time we got there, we'd taken turns chugging a pint and I was quite ... let's just say tipsy. (That's such a nice word, isn't it?) Then we sat around the table laughing and joking with friends and dancing. I'm a happy drunk. Until I laugh so hard that I bang my head on the table and end up with a nice goose egg on my forehead. 'Course I laughed about that too. And so did everyone else!

I couldn't even smell Southern Comfort, or any hard liquor, for years after that.

Anne, no byes from me either. And sister it is!

Michele said...

Oh, Anne! I'll just close my eyes and pretend you're still here.

My first time was with TJ Swan (grape). Remember that awful stuff? AND I also learned to smoke that night as well. Virginia Silms. Gaaaaagggg.
Anyway, after the world began to spin, we went in to the rollar skating rink. NOT the place to be when your world just won't stand still. Suffice to say I got major sick. Learned what the dry heaves are. And never looked at another cigarette. EVER. I did the drunk thing one more time, then that was enough for me. I just can't drink. My brain is a delicate thing, and so is my equilibrium, so I start to swirl and the swirlies are not fun.


anne frasier said...

betina, thanks so much for the well-wishes. drunk one time! wow. i'll bet you have one happy, unabused liver. :D i don't know why i went through such a period of loving mr. booze. now i really dislike feeling the least bit drunk. i think drinking is something that takes practice and commitment. then when you stop it feels really good.

anne frasier said...

debra, i had to read that again. at first i thought your editor served you boone's farm strawberry hill.

i'm laughing just thinking about that!!! ooh -hoo!!!

i have some relatives who are wine snobs -- and i actually would prefer the strawberry hill to some of those expensive red wines.

anne frasier said...

helen -- OMG! i remember people bringing southern comfort to school. ick. that stuff was nasty!!! i guess people brought it because it was easy to hide and easy to steal from the parents. but your evening sounded very pleasant and fun!! well, except for the goose egg. :D

anne frasier said...

michele: LOL!!!! that would make a great short story. i haven't heard of tj swan -- but virginia slims!! hahahaha!!!! that is PERFECT!!! then the skating rink! OMG!! then dry heaves. i love it!

folks, i think we have a winner. :D

Helen Brenna said...

Michele, what were you thinking?!?!

Oh, right you had TJ Swan impaired judgement! I remember that stuff and Boonesfarm. Sweet and cheap!

Yep, Anne, she wins!

My FIL used to say the only difference between a wino and a wine coneseur is about $10 a bottle.

Wanna hear about the time I did a headstand on the bar at Tony Jaros in NE Mpls? Home of the greenies?

Helen Brenna said...

It was during my yoga phase in college!

anne frasier said...

It was during my yoga phase


yes, we need more details! that's fine if this turns into my mostest drunkenest. ;) anything for entertainment.

Helen Brenna said...

That's connoisseur for anyone who didn't get my silly phonetic spelling. Meant to do spell check and then forgot!

Yes, it was New Year's Eve back in ... 82-83? ... college days. And I actually did a headstand on the bar. Too many greenies that night - limeade and vodka. I ask you, though, how drunk could someone be and still accomplish such a feat?

Looks like it's you and me, Anne, battling it out for most drunkenest. Betina, Deb and Michele learn lessons much faster than I do.

Candace said...

I was in high school, around 15, I think. The occasion was a Christmas party at my dad's restaurant--employees and family only. I went behind the bar, took a martini shaker, filled it partway with shaved ice, and began pouring shots of various booze into it. I have no idea how many shots I poured or what they were, but it can't have been anything but awful. I drank every last drop. My dad never said a word. And I spent the next two days wishing somone would just shot me and put me out of my misery. It was y-e-a-r-s before I took another drink.

Helen Brenna said...

Candace, my brothers did that to me once, put shots of different liquors into a glass so my parents wouldn't notice what was missing. I, of course, didn't know any better.

Yeah, two days. That sounds about right!