The fifth of May is coming up. You may know it best as Cinco de Mayo.
I’ve never been one for needing a reason to get a little wasted. All I need is a television and a twelve pack. Or, meet up with some friends. Maybe check out a local band. I need very little reason to pack on a few extra pounds with brewed deliciousness.
I’m not a good holiday drinker. Sure, I will bend my elbows to pour some golden goodness into my piehole, but I don’t need a holiday to do it.
Cinco de Mayo is Mexican Independence Day. I could be wrong about that. I just don’t care to spend time to look it up. I really don’t care when Mexicans celebrate their Independence Day. Do Mexicans celebrate the Fourth of July? I guess they do if they need another drinking occasion.
New Year’s Eve is the big daddy. It’s known as amateur night for those of us who drink on a regular basis. It gives people a good excuse to drink more than they should and make asses out of themselves. I try to stay very sober. That way, I can cash in on the sexual advances that may come my way from drunken women whose inhibitions have been thrown out with the third empty bottle. Also, there’s the increased presence of Brother Bacon (the pigs, the police or the fuzz) out on the streets. I don’t want to get arrested for DWI or kill someone with my reckless attitude about drinking off the last year.
People don’t drink on President’s Day or MLK Day. Folks spend their time with marches or parades, not fueling up for a night of bed spins.
February is also a dead month for alcohol poisoning. If there’s any drinking to be done, it’s usually taken up by couples.
March has St. Patrick’s Day. As far as I know, I don’t have any Irish in me so, you won’t find me drinking green beer. I’ve never had a green beer. Is that something to be shameful of? I don’t think so. I don’t need gimmicks to get me going on some beer. Besides, I don’t need the confusion when a green bowel movement occurs.
I worked with a guy named Cambo at Peaches Music and Video. St. Patty’s Day was his favorite holiday. I was completely and utterly surprised when I heard that. Cambo explained his Irish heritage and how much he loved green beer. He didn’t sway my beliefs.
He would invite me out for drinks, but I turned him down every year. When the drinking holidays arrive, you will not find me in a bar with amateurs. The novices have a way of annoying the living crap out of me. They get loud. They stumble up with their words and walking. They spill drinks on you. They will “love” you one minute and the next they want to fight you. It’s just not my scene.
There’s nothing worthy of Foster Brooks’ attention in April and we never cared about drinking in early May until the Mexican population started moving north. Now, all the beer companies pump it up as a holiday that should not be missed. I guess they think that people haven’t inspected their porcelain gods in a while, so why not celebrate Cinco de Mayo?
Really, there’s no drinking until American Independence Day and the drinking isn’t really done in bars. Folks are usually huddled around open fires scorching meat. There’s Memorial Weekend to do some drinking, but it’s the same as Fourth of July. It’s more of a family thing that isn’t done huddled up next to some oak with an obnoxious stranger beside you.
Memorial Weekends mean NASCAR to me. I’ll get a case of beer if I’m not working and watch me some racing on television beamed in from the Lowes Motor Speedway in Charlotte. I will usually get my White Russian Weekend in on those days. I won’t even leave the house until Monday when I’ve sobered up.
I’m usually up for some Fourth of July grill-fests, but no one is really getting drunk. For one thing, everyone is usually around family members. And when there’s alcohol, lips and emotions start to flap around until an argument breaks out. Or, everyone wants to get in their cars and go out to see the fireworks.
Fireworks are something else that I don’t understand, but that ‘s a different subject for a later date.
The month of August has nothing going on. In September, there’s the last summer dash to get blood alcohol levels up to Bon Scott and John Bonham territory. It’s called Labor Day weekend. It’s another holiday where people do their drinking at home amongst friends. Don’t do your fighting with strangers in bars. Save it all up for those you love and care about around sharp cooking utensils.
Halloween is around the corner just as you become accustomed to the colder temps. I wouldn’t really call it a drinking holiday. It’s more for the kids. Until they start marketing O’doul’s to children, the holiday will be relatively safe from amateurs.
Thanksgiving is next, but it’s not really made for alcohol consumption in bars. It’s another shot at getting drunk and telling your family members what you think of them right after the fifth beer in the second quarter of the Cowboys game.
The same goes for Christmas. Your last chance at getting some ill will started with the in-laws and siblings before the year is out.
I don’t know that much about Kwanza, but I think if they worked in a drinking angle, the holiday would take off.
I hereby proclaim my efforts to make Kwanza a drinking holiday. From what I understand, the holiday is spread over several days to a week. It’s similar to how our Jewish brothers and sisters celebrate Chanukah.
Can you feel the love? Or is that Miller High Life?
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