A few weekends ago I signed up to bartend at a barber shop expo (random, I know). The event ran from 11:00 AM to 10:00 PM, and while we were setting up the bar around 10:30 at least 15 people came up to ask the same four questions:
“Do you serve liquor this early?”
“Is it bad if I have a beer with lunch?”
“Are you going to judge me if I start drinking before noon?”
To me, these are all silly questions. I am 23 years old and, given the financial leeway, would polish off a Stella Cidre every morning with my morning bowl of oatmeal if I could afford to go through a six-pack of those a week like some rich one percenter. Hell, I’d do a tequila sunrise at sunrise if I could bother to wake up before 10 a.m. every day – why not? One drink isn’t going to put you over the legal BAC for driving to work, which brings us to today’s question…
Since when did drinking before noon become NOT okay…?
There are many things that college students suck at: going to class, being sober on the weekends, budgeting time so they’re not up for 48 hours straight trying to bullshit a semester-long research paper on “Family Values” (I pulled a C, if anyone is curious) – but drinking? NAH. Frankly, we could all learn a lesson from the Youth of Tomorrow, and the lesson is that drinking at all hours of the day is perfectly acceptable as long as you fulfill both of these criteria:
1. You don’t kill anybody (always ideal, though not always practical – sometimes you just gotta choke a bitch or two).
2. You do not become “THAT” person – you know, the girl throwing up in the middle of a busy sidewalk at 2:00 PM on a Sunday afternoon at the National Zoo in Washington D.C.
Sidenote: To be fair, we were six Irish Car Bombs deep and my acid was starting to kick in. Dropping acid and chugging Baileys Irish Cream before going to the zoo is a great idea in theory, though the screaming children who saw me yak next to the otter exhibit would probably disagree.
(The otters are fine…I think.)
Now, I know that most of you don’t particularly have any urge to look at the average underage 20-year-old and say, “Teach me how to become a semi-functional alcoholic,” and you shouldn’t – this isn’t about learning how to black out between the hours of 10:00 AM and 5:00 PM without embarrassing yourself – it’s about being able to have a shower beer before you head to the office without your wife/girlfriend/boyfriend/husband/judgmental pet making faces while you’re getting ready for work:
Or, if your job blows and everything at the office is going to shit, sometimes you need a shower cocktail. Maybe even shower shots if you’re feeling adventurous and know that you can work effectively at whatever job you have when your brain is only firing away at 40% capacity. Personally, I prefer Jameson with ginger ale if it’s a Monday morning and I’m up before eight:
Now, do I do this sort of thing every morning? No. And I’ve stopped keeping a bottle of Jamo underneath my bathroom sink because when guests go looking for extra toilet paper they assume I’m an alcoholic. People may make faces, smirk, look at you like you’re fucking insane to be pouring Kahlua into your morning coffee, but you know what? Sometimes life sucks. Sometimes you wake up in the morning, look at yourself in the mirror and start listing out all the parts of your day that you KNOW are going to be awful: sitting in traffic on the way to work, rewriting the same cover letter 500 different ways if you’re out of work, having to pretend like the story your boss/girlfriend is saying isn’t the most boring thing you’ve ever heard, reading the news and seeing yet another dumbass story about “safe spaces”…then having your shithead 18-year-old libtard cousin repost the same story on social media with a comment about how “progressive” we’re becoming as a society.
Come to think of it, there are five times more events throughout my day that make me want to slam my head onto a table and wish for death than ones that make me happy I’m alive. My doctor chalks it up to stress.
“Well, what do you want me to do? Invest in a stress ball?” I asked on my last visit.
He gave a small smile, probably the best he could muster knowing that the screaming baby in the waiting room was up next (an event he probably listed while staring at himself in the mirror that morning). “No, you don’t need a stress ball.”
He took off his glasses, looked at me long and hard, and – I shit you not – he said, “Have you ever heard of a shower beer?”
Fuck yeah I have, and let me tell you – if dipshit little ol’ me can get away with drinking whiskey on the rocks at 9:00 AM, so can you.
Rebecca Martinson is known throughout the Internet for being very, very good at writing emails and very, very bad at using Twitter. You can reach her at email@example.com, or if you say her name three times into a bathroom mirror she’ll appear and start trying to talk about Pokemon with you (though she prefers email.)