—Brittany McLawStudent

Like so many of us, my drunken moments are depressing if not downright concerning. Considering the fact that I do NOT need an intervention in my life right now (I’m on a roll here!) I will tell you about one of the moments that I can look back on now, and muster a hearty, belly-rolicking chuckle.

Let’s set the scene: It’s prom night. No, not high-school prom—my 22 year-old boyfriend, who didn’t have enough sense to avoid knocking a 17-year-old up, did have enough (or was it shame?) to refuse to take me to that one.

Fast-forward to my next prom going opportunity. Hastings. Law. School. Prom.  Also known as “Barristers Ball.” Open Bar. Top-Shelf Liquor. Marble Floors (in hindsight, a terrible and dangerous idea—in fact, I’m surprised none of the assholes I go to school with have sued over it yet).  And bless those bartenders, they didn’t cut anyone off—the whole night!  Imagine the most stressed-out group of students finally letting loose with unlimited Patron, Makers’, and Grey Goose.
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—Haley

So, this one time when two of my favorite folks were in town…I got LOST.

There’s getting lost, being lost, and getting LOST. Getting lost can happen to most anyone, at any time. Being lost and getting LOST, I feel, are reserved for the habitually enthusiastic. Like the time I was shooting for 12th and Ladd and wound up at 28th and Stark with a skid mark all the way down my right arm (from connecting with a van while trying to slow my bike down enough to read a god forsaken street sign). I’d say this counts as being lost. Once I figured out what street I was on I knew where I was. Entirely different from getting LOST.
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There’s only one thing we like almost as much as drinking here at The Alcohol Enthusiast—hotties. So we decided to combine the two. Alessandro has been an Enthusiast since the tender age of 7 and his favorite cocktail is a Maker’s Manhattan.

And he sure looks sexy in a Speedo.

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Thanks to all the Enthusiasts who entered our Moonshine haiku competition, and cheers to our winners, Naomi and Christina. Here are their haiku:

***

—Naomi

Take one deep breath in
hold it and swig that on down
swallow, then exhale

that is how I learned
to drink corn liquor white light
august on my lips

once in a log stump
trip to north carolina
1920 brew

smooth glass in my hands
peaches soaked at the bottom
of your mason jar

thought to pack the car
crate of that fire at my feet
drive west liquor rich

the thought came to me
of the incineration
if we were to crash

a wonderous sight
somewhere on the interstate
flames across the sky

***

—Christina

Clear, pure on my tongue,
Beautiful Appalachia
has warmed this sweet soul.

—Christian & Josey

It’s been a long, fun, loud, hot, naked, broke, lonely, sexy, tearful, painful, balckkedd out, shameful, warm, fuzzy, nauseous, shaky, tired, wired, naked, sticky, confusing, crazy, trip—but we made it to our 100th post!

Over the past 100 posts, we’ve survived Thanksgiving the only way an Enthusiast can, and learned how to avoid cuts and burns slightly lessen the chances of sustaining life-threatening injuries when cooking while less-than-sober.

We met a hottie in a Budweiser dress, and developed a simple quiz to answer the question that’s plagued humankind since time’s inception: are we drunk? Are we drunk—right now?
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—Prez

I’ll be honest with you guys; this was a tough one to come up with. I don’t want to brag too much, but I’ve been quite drunk quite a few times. For every good story I came up with, I was promptly reminded of a different time where I was even drunker. After searching the dark recesses of my mind and contacting some drinking buddies, I realized that one story stands out like a wine-drinker at a dive bar, and it happened on my trip to the homeland a few years back.

Technically, I could make the argument that the entire three-week visit was the drunkest I have ever been, since I don’t recall a day when I wasn’t heavily enthusing with some cousin, uncle, or childhood friend. Seriously, it was 21 days of non-stop alcohol consumption, but one drunken blur of a night stands head and shoulders above the rest (and it wasn’t the wedding that was the genesis of the trip, that’s a story for later).
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Thanks to everyone who entered the haiku contest! The contest is over and the winners’ haiku can be read in the comments of this post. Cheers!
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—Zip

I work at the One Union recording studio. One year, our annual Christmas party was to be followed by a recording session at 2am. Turns out we were connecting to Cape Town, South Africa to record “Ninja” from Die Antwoord. It was noon there.

The fancy shmancy restaurant we go to for dinner every year is Jardiniere, by the opera house. They pour drinks with a heavy hand! We all had some whiskey at the office before the party, and once there I indulged in my usual drinking of the oldest and most expensive scotch they have available (it’s on the boss’ tab!) The dinner went well, was really fun, and Jesus those scotches were huge! We ate scallops, steak, risotto, holy shit, tons of buttery french shit piled up on top of all that booze. I drank like an asshole even though I knew I had an overnight session coming up.
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