Wednesday, March 29, 2006

Dirty Barftinis

Maybe you noticed me at the bar last night?

I'm not sure when the habit started. But it's sticking. And it needs to end.

I used to be the kind of girl who would roll into a bar and get a mixed drink -- rum and coke, Stoli Vanilla and ginger ale, vodka cran -- as long as it didn't contain gin, tonic and/or beer and was good for my urinary tract, I was happy. We were a great match, me and my mixies. They were reasonably priced, tasted good, and I could sip 3 or 4 or 5 over the course of an evening and still maintain myself as a lady.

Maybe it was my friend Mike who changed my tune. We were out one evening having an early bird drinkie, when he ordered a drink I previously found too annoying to even ask for: A Dirty Martini. It's like - Great! Why don't I order a dirty martini, get out my hot pink feather pen, scrawl the next great chick lit fare on the back of an old sailor, complain that my Manolos hurt, cry, loudly and in public, call up my ex-husband, Jack, rekindle, Jack be a dick, and fuck myself with a candlestick? Do you know what I'm saying about Dirty Martinis?? They weren't my style. My life was not that sad.

Seriously, stop looking at me like that. No, for real, you're creeping me out. Sigh. (Lightly tapping foot. Looking at watch. Back at Sean.) Stop looking at me like that!!

Mike got his martini, as I received my lightly carbonated sweet tasting bevy. I looked over at his glass and -- ohh -- that's a nice touch. It's frosted. Looks kinda refreshing I guess... crisp. Oh, what's that? Wow, look how many olives! What are there like... 3... 4 olives! It's like... It's like a little, a little meal... in your glass! How deliriously delightful! How exquisitely gauche! Listen, take any kind of food, put it in a glass, bathe it in liquor, and I'm there. Seriously, I'd have a pita-and-hummus-tini if I could. So I relented -- I'll have one.

Mmmmm-mm--mmmmm! That is delicious! It's like, I always wondered what would happen to me if I drank the juice out of a Klausen's pickle jar, and now I know -- I turn into the life of the party! How much is it? $17? Haha! Worth every cent! Look how much fun I am!

This went on for probably 3 weeks.

But now, I face a new problem. See, when I'm out small talking the masses, I need a glass in my hand. And, seeing it as a prop I use to puncuate a joke, I sip often, and quickly. Now, admittedly, 85 percent of the drink usually ends up on my lap/shoes, as they serve it to me in a triangle-shaped glass balancing on a swizzle stick, not unlike what the Doozers used to build houses with on "Fraggle Rock." I mean, really, bartenders of America, why don't you start pouring shots down the long barrel of a loaded gun. Because, Lord knows, that quickly too would become my drink of choice!

Sidenote: Remember how great Fraggle Rock was? Do you think kids today are gonna say that shit about "Dora the Explorer" in 10 years? Because I'm willing to bet "Fraggle Rock" was 100 times more hilarious.

As I was saying, I drink quickly, and seeing that martinis are, roughly, 1500 times stronger than my "boring" old mixed drinks, I tend to get very drunk, very fast. And I. Don't. Like. It.

I just don't kno -- uch, God, I'm too hungover to even say it.

So I'm making it public -- I am quitting Dirty Martinis. I don't care how pretty/dangerous the glass is, I don't care if they throw a side of brisket in there, I cannot order them anymore. There is nothing worse than finding oneself smashed and totally broke at the end of the night. Well, that's not true -- there is SOMETHING worse...

Waking up next to this guy. The good news is he tips well.

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