Libations and Limitations

I have an alarming number of friends who don’t drink any alcohol. Not that there’s anything wrong with not drinking alcohol; it’s just odd how many people I know all of a sudden who don’t.

From about the age of 15 to 30 all my friends and acquaintances did nothing but drink their faces off at every opportunity. After 30, my social circle wised up and started drinking more moderately. Now some of them don’t drink at all.

Some are alcoholics so they had to stop. Some just don’t like it anymore. One friend says she won’t drink because she becomes belligerent and scrappy when she drinks. I find this hard to believe because she’s normally sweet as pie, but I’ll take her word for it.

I do know people who become really belligerent and scrappy when they drink. They’re very tiresome at parties because they’ll start arguing about the bean dip and punch the first guy who presents a likely target. But then these people are usually pretty belligerent and scrappy to begin with.

Most people seem to just become exaggerated versions of themselves when they drink, I think. I don’t think I’ve ever known anyone who has a complete personality change when they drink, have you?

One guy I knew in university – blond, surfer type…madly in love with himself – he used get naked at every single party he was ever at. Two or three drinks and off came the togs. Actually, I suspect after a while he just didn’t even bother with the drinking part and just whipped it all out as soon as he got to the party.

And we all know women who get extremely ..um…er…frisky after a couple of drinks and everyone in trousers better put out or get out. They’re the ones who get themselves in trouble at the office Christmas party. It’s a cliché, but I was at a work Christmas party once where a normally under-the-radar type woman literally threw herself at our director. There he was enjoying an after dinner drink, chatting with some management types and she comes along and plops herself on his lap and winds her arms around his neck. That was some night.

And, I think we’ve all been at parties where there’s one miserable sod who has a couple of drinks and ends up in a corner weeping —  telling you you’re a beautiful, beautiful person and that you’re the only real person they’ve ever known – even if you’ve just met. I don’t know why, but I usually end up getting cornered by this person at parties.

I try to stay well away from them and from the pathetic saddo who drinks weird stuff like Southern Comfort and coke finishes off the night by lolling on a sofa peeing himself and playing air guitar long after the music has stopped.

And, of course, every party has at least one assholes who will expand in assholishness as the night goes on. And he or she will start losing control of his or her voice and limbs and get really loud and will start breaking stuff and spilling stuff.

And then there are those who have no understanding of their own bodies and/or the effects of alcohol on them and so will be barfing – hopefully in or around a toilet. You’d think they’d have clued in by the time they’re 40, but amazingly, quite a few haven’t.

And almost everyone ends up saying the most astonishing things while under the influence. Some people tell you things they’ve bottled up for years. Things that should never be aired. Things they would kill to take back the next morning. It’s best to leave town if someone who’s a little high on Crown Royal has told you where he’s hidden the skeletons.

I think perhaps many of us have been in one or more of these positions over the years and maybe that’s why so many of us have quit drinking altogether. I will confess to having been in at least three of these positions myself at some point waaaaaaaay back in my much, much younger and more foolish days. And I one or two things I’m not particularly proud of.

But I learned. Water under the bridge.

These days, a little wine or a little beer — preferably with food — is my limit. Make no mistake, I really, really enjoy a nice glass of wine with a meal or a beer on a warm day, but a couple is usually enough. I have no desire or need to get anywhere close to drunk anymore. I don’t even know why I ever did.

Was it ever actually fun? Do any of you still enjoy getting good and drunk every so often?

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ATTENTION!!! ATTENTION!!!  The indominable Lynn has announced the details of this year’s Blog Out Loud Ottawa (BOLO). It will be held on Wednesday, July 7 at Irene’s Pub on Bank Street from 7:00 – 10:00 pm. Anyone who wants to read should register soon; but you don’t have to read to come out and enjoy an evening of food, drink and blogging hilarity. Check the BOLO website frequently for updates and details. Yay Lynn!!

First Bite

About once every couple of months my Dad would get a hankering for Limburger cheese. He’d buy himself a hunk with some good dark German rye bread. Then, with all the kids gathered around barely able to contain their excitement, he’d sloooooowly unwrap the cheese while we all screamed in giddy anticipation and horror.

If you’ve never smelled the Limburger, it’s quite pungent – like the smelliest of smelly feet. That’s because Limburger cheese is made with the same bacterium found on human skin (Brevibacterium linens) which, in part, causes body odors.

Anyway, us kids would then watch as Dad spread the cheese on the dark rye, add some sliced onions, pour himself a cold lager…and then…then he’d offer us the first bite… At which point we all ran away and he enjoyed his sandwich and beer in peace.

When I got older, I did, one day take him up on his offer of the first bite. The younger kids shrieked in disbelief and followed me around the rest of the day asking me to explain in minute and precise detail exactly what it tasted like.

It wasn’t bad. It started me on the road to trying and enjoying a lot of different cheeses.

I wonder if my Dad would have been grossed out at the thought of eating tofu? Some people are.

I also like to eat cold spaghetti (with sauce) which my daughter thinks is revolting. I like it a lot better cold than hot. She also thinks its revolting that I have kippers and toast (cold) for breakfast sometimes and that I like onion, tomato and peanut butter sandwiches.

Is there anything unusual you like to eat that friends and/or family think is weird or yucky? Or, is there anything unusual someone you know eats that you think is weird or yucky? Not unhealthy-yucky (because that list could be endless) but Limburger cheese & onions style weird/yucky. Like these:

• Bagels spread with hotdog relish
• Doritos dipped in Marshmallow Fluff
• French Fries dipped in milk shakes
• Donuts dunked in beer
• Sugar in scrambled eggs
• Sushi with ketchup
• Cream cheese on hot dogs
• Popcorn with yellow mustard for dipping (I do this sometimes)
• Chocolate sprinkles on rice

Who knows what culinary wonders are out there we haven’t tried yet?

From the Society Pages

In other society news….  Miss Violet Sky  (eldest daughter of the Southern Ontario Skys), undertook a journey to the nation’s capital this weekend past. She was received at the home of XUP where a small wine and cheese affair was arranged in her honour. Other society notables in attendance included the lovely Miss Alison.

Miss Violet was so much more down-to-earth and humorous than one would have expected from her writings and pastel-balloon blog masthead. Neither did she emerge from her carriage in the anticipated diaphanous gown! Not at all! Miss Violet was quite practically attired in clothing that might more commonly be seen on the average citizen.

Welcomes were warm and raucous all around; Miss Violet presented her host with gifts of fruit and baked goods; and the visit got underway.

The next 24 hours saw Miss Violet jet-setting through the best of what the city has to offer.  The Landsdowne’s welcomed her to their outdoor marketplace where staff curried her favour with samplings of their best wares. Miss Violet charmed them all with her winning smile and brief, yet personalized tidbits of conversation.

Miss Violet was then whisked to Parliament to be presented with some of Ottawa’s finest gothic architecture, followed by a tour of Lieutenant-Colonel John By’s marketplace where, after a whirlwind expedition through shoppes, she partook of a large refreshing beverage on a terrace overlooking the square.

A late luncheon was enjoyed by Miss Violet and her entourage at Saigon Boy, in one of the town’s more colourful quartiers. There followed a visit to the famed photographer, Mr. Robin, who was exceedingly gracious in entertaining Miss Violet on his verandah.

As the long day wore on, Miss Violet’s energy, optimism and good cheer never flagged one iota – the sign of a true lady.  Nevertheless, the evening’s itinerary was of a more relaxed, subdued nature and Miss Violet was given the opportunity to retire to her chambers at a reasonable hour.

Miss Violet’s stay in our fair city was, unfortunately of short duration as she was obliged to return to her duties in her own village the very next day. One hopes Miss Violet took some delight in her foray into the heretofore unknown world of never-before-met Ottawa bloggers as they took a considerable amount of pleasure in her company.

Tittle-tattle has it that Miss Violet herself will be presenting a more thorough accounting of her visit, complete with numerous delightful photographs. One certainly looks forward to this.

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Meeting new people – especially bloggers one has been following for some time – has so far, for me, always been a very positive experience. I highly recommend coming out from behind your keyboards every so often and giving it a try. You will not like everyone you meet, but if you keep initial visits short and don’t enter into the encounter with a great many expectations, your meetings will, more often than not, be reasonably pleasant.

Bon chance!

Crisis Averted!

So, as of midnight today, the Ontario Public Service Employees (OPSEU) working for the Liquor Control Board of Ontario (LCBO) were supposed to go on strike. It’s the closest they’ve ever come to actually striking, so it’s been a terrifying few days for a lot of people, it seems.

The strike has been looming for a while and I guess the main issue is that LCBO is hiring more and more part-time and casual employees and less and less full-time employees. Anyway, the strike deadline was extended at the 11th hour, so while theoretically we still have the possibility of an LCBO strike, it’s unlikely to happen. 

For people outside of Ontario (or Canada in general)  who don’t understand how crazy the possibility of an LCBO strike has made people, a little background.

In Ontario, and most other Canadian provinces, if you want to buy bottles of alcoholic beverages you have to go to a provincially owned and operated store. In Quebec you can buy beer and wine in the dépanneurs (corner stores) and grocery stores. Some other provinces, like Alberta allow privately-owned liquor stores. But most of the alcohol sales in this country are controlled by the provincial governments.

In Ontario, as far as I know, the only places to buy liquor is an LCBO outlet. Individual wineries are only allowed to sell their own product and  The Beer Store (a conglomerate monopoly owned by a variety of international brewers are only allowed to sell beer).

An LCBO Strike would  also affect bar owners, hotels and restaurants who, as I understand it,  have to purchase all their hard liquor through LCBO.

Wineries and Beer Stores would not be affected by an LCBO strike. And Ontarians that live close to Quebec, Manitoba or the US could just hop across the border to buy liquor.

Still, there has been unbelievable mayhem in liquor stores across the province. Headlines like this graced our newspapers:

Fearful consumers empty LCBO shelves ahead of strike deadline (National Post, June 23)

Yes, people have been crazed with anxiety about the possibility of not being able to buy liquor. They’ve been stockpiling for days —  weeks even. There has been pushing and shoving at LCBO outlets. Anger, grumbling and fights over the last bottle of Absolut. The LCBO shelves are empty – of everything, even the Sparkling Baby Duck! Homes all across Ontario now feature thousands and thousands of dollars worth of liquor.

People have locked themselves and their loved ones up in basements with their liquor, beating off visitors with sticks. “We only have enough booze for the family. Go away!” they scream. Enterprising gangsters have filled their bathtubs with cheap grain alcohols and juniper berries. People foolish enough to find themselves without liquor roam the streets like zombies ready to kill for a liquor-soaked brain. (Okay, I have no concrete proof that this last paragraph is completely true).

Yes, it nuts that there is so much red tape involved in buying a bottle of vodka and maybe that’s part of what has been pissing people off — that the people who stack those bottles of vodka on shelves and the people who ring up your purchase at the cash register, have the power to decide whether or not you’ll be able to have a cocktail before dinner next week.

Still, as mental as all this is, in some ways I guess this speaks to how freakin’ good we have it here in this country that something so trivial can shift so many people into hyper-paranoia.

Access to liquor isn’t exactly an inalienable human right, is it? Maybe I don’t get it because I don’t really[1] drink hard liquor anymore. Sure, I enjoy a cold beer on hot day once in a while[2] and I have the usual few bottles of wine on hand to accompany a weekend dinner or whatever[3]. And when those run out I could just make the 15 minute trip to Gatineau. And even if I didn’t live that close to Quebec, I’d make do without.

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[1] And by “really” I just mean I haven’t sworn off it or anything, I’m just not that interested in most of it. If I go somewhere and someone offers me a fabulous martini, I might succumb. And by “might”, I mean “probably.”

[2] And by “once in a while” I mean if I’m with a larger group of people. Somehow beer never tastes as good to me unless there’s a group. I don’t know why.

[3] And by “whatever” I mean sometimes after a long day or week I will have a glass of wine all by myself . And by “glass” I sometimes mean “tumbler.”

Our Big Fat Warm Sunny Weekend

I don’t know about where you all live, but here in the eastern Ontario area people have been talking about nothing but the fabulous weekend we’re supposed to have.

 All week “they” have  been promising a sunny Friday with temperatures at 21 (70 F), followed by a hot, hot Saturday with temperatures around 29 (84 F)with a humidex over 30 and Sunday was going to be 27ish (80ish F) – sunny with cloudy periods.

You can imagine the excitement. Plans were concocted. Preparations were made. Life was looking pretty good.

While in other parts of the world responsible families have an Emergency Preparedness Home Emergency Kit  in case of prolonged storms, power failures, tornadoes, hurricanes, floods, earthquakes, and other acts of environmental revenge, in this part of the world, we all have a Warm Sunny Weekend Preparedness Kit. (WSWPK) and Warm Sunny Weekend Preparedness Plan.

The kit includes:

• A cooler, cases of beer, several bags of ice, bottle openers, bottles of wine, a corkscrew, bottles of vodka, bottles of tequila and gin, cash to buy more beverages, a flashlight in case it gets dark and you can’t find the corkscrew, a change of clothing in case you spill some drinks, toilet paper, salty snacks and olives.

 The plan involves:

• Booking Monday off work (for recovery);
• Sending the kids to grandma’s for the weekend. We can’t enjoy a perfect weekend with kids underfoot;
• Running to Wal-Mart and buy some shorts and tank tops because nothing we wore last summer is going to fit us right now. Guaranteed; and,
• Since we want to spend the whole weekend out on the deck basking in the sun and drinking, we’re certainly not cooking. So we:
  • Call around and invite groups of friends over for each night of the weekend;
  • Tell them it’s a barbeque party and tell them to bring food;
  • Make sure to invite the guy who thinks he knows more about barbequing than anyone alive so that he can do all the cooking;
  • Make sure to invite at least one over-achiever because they’ll insist on cleaning up and doing dishes before they go home.

Of course, we rarely get to put the plan into action.

Take this weekend for example.

It’s Friday morning and the sky is cloudy and the temperature is ZERO (32 F)! Saturday is now forecast for 60% chance of RAIN and maybe 27 degrees. And Sunday is forecast for showers (which are totally different from rain, apparently) and 12 (53 F) freakin’ degrees.

Could they have been more wrong? How do these people keep their jobs? Why do meteorologists even exist?  We might as well use psychics.

It’s not like weather is something new  whose mysterious depths are completely unknowable. Old timey farmers had their fingers firmly on the pulse of mother nature and knew exactly how the weather was going to play out.  We have technology!  We’ve had weather forever. It’s out there all day and all night every single day. Why is it so difficult to figure out what’s going to be happening out there for the next few days?

If you don’t know what you’re doing then say so. Don’t get us all excited all week about a gorgeous weekend and then yank the rug out from under us at the last minute. It’s cruel.

We hate you.