The other day a friend of mine posted on his Facebook page
the following sage advice: Never
underestimate tequila.
I was, at the time I saw this, sucking down a Margarita as
if I were a marathoner hitting the Powerade.
Even the straw couldn't keep up with me.
(Hey, it had been a rough few days at work; don't judge me.) As a matter of fact, I didn't even bother to
mix the Margarita up in the blender. It
was one of those pre-made ones they sell at the packie. You know the ones -- Juice Boxes for Adults.
Lest you think I'm a fledgling alcoholic, let me assure you
that I am not. I can make a six-pack
last weeks, a bottle of wine hang around so long it turns back into grapes, and
I've had the same couple of bottles of hard liquor in my cabinet so long that
the distilleries went out of business decades ago.
But these pre-made mixed drinks in pouches, these are like
gifts of the gods. You remember how you
or your kids (hey, some of us are older than others) would swarm to the fridge
to grab Capri Suns or Sunny D? Embrace
that same feeling after having a shitty day at work on Friday, a shitty weekend
dealing with the shitty day at work on Friday, followed up by a super-shitty
Monday still slogging through the shitty aftermath spilling over from the shitty
Friday at work. Embrace the love and
refreshing company of a pre-mixed, pre-frozen Margarita that only asks two
things: a moment to defrost just a teeny
bit and a straw.
That Margarita changed my attitude; it changed my day; it
changed my whole outlook. And it made me
drowsy, but that's not Jose Cuervo's fault; I hadn't slept all that well since
Shitty Friday, so I was one shot and some ice shavings away from a face-plant
to the wall, anyway. Never
underestimate tequila.
I have another friend (yes, I actually have two -- don't
look so surprised) who mixes the best damn Margaritas I have ever tasted. Of course it could be that we're usually
drinking them while standing waist-deep in her warm, salt-water pool, and it's
summer, and I'm not having a shitty day at work, and our two other friends are
there with us. (Okay, so I have four
friends -- you can look surprised now).
Her home-blended margaritas are so smooth that we are not even bothered
by the bizarre statues at the Grecian monstrosity that passes for a house that
faces her backyard. Even the lit-up
green lion's head doesn't bother us; we have Jose, and he will protect us,
because one should never underestimate tequila.
PeeWee Herman understands this. If it weren't for Tequila, he never would've made it out of that biker bar
alive. Tequila is for dancing! (And for really ugly white vinyl platform
shoes.)
So, for my friend who posted this, for my friend who mixes
the best Margaritas this side of Mexico, for Shitty Friday, for PeeWee Herman,
and for Juices Boxes for Adults, remember:
Never underestimate tequila. Ole!
