A lot of people can’t drink Tequila. It’s not a matter of tolerating it, it just can’t tolerate them. They get mad, or sad, or effin lose their minds and go crazy. Who’d want to be around someone like that?
I’ve never had an emotional reaction to alcohol, unless you count happy (sick is not an emotion). For this reason, tequila and I are good friends. Sometimes too good of friends, but in the best way possible, unless I have work the next day. It makes me mild, patient, sweet, and humble. It makes me feel like the luckiest girl in the world. Eternally happy.
But like any rewarding experience, I never want it to end. Not the drinking, but the night. Want to gaurantee that I’ll still be up at 5am having a grand time? Serve tequila. Want to watch movies until you can’t see straight even when there’s work in the morning? Let’s drink tequila. It cannot and shall not end, even after I have had my late night snack.
So with that, I salute my compadre of the brave new night. I vow to reduce the spills and respect the spoils and to see the sun to bed.