151 Alcohol and living…

I promised a blog about me and the number 151 which is feared by city folk, laughed at by real moonshiners trying to sound like it was nothing, knowing it’s not much less that what they make. I love to drink, I used it to hide my PTSD from the Army, Dating, and my multiple personalities, (one who objects to this post). That means I will have to spell check the shit out of this post.

It all started with Jack Daniels Actually, later I may show you on the bottle where he touched me. College, won’t name the name, but UH, it was a no brainer living in Houston, and not being able to afford Rice at the time. It is funny growing up poor on rice, and then denied by Rice. Actually they didn’t deny my superior brain, they just wanted money my parents didn’t have. And I was a music major, not worthy of a full paid scholarship, unless you are out of this world. My skills were from Paraguay.

I swallowed Jack in College one night, got shit faced drunk, and laughed at myself in the mirror as I was throwing up, making fun of myself. See, I told you I have multiple personalities, so always remember, you get the personality you deserve when you talk to me. Anyways didn’t drink for six months, but I was no quitter. Went dancing with my Aunt cause I looked old enough. And then I went to the Army, drinking age in Europe is 18, not 21.

My first experience with 151 was anti epic. I wanted the more bang for the buck since we had ration cards. We could only get so much tobacco and alcohol each month. So you know what we did eventually? Do I have to explain, oh wait Trump is in office.

What we did was whomever didn’t drink, and whomever didn’t smoke teamed up to maximize our ration cards. I even had someone from West Virginia, who got high off of Dr Pepper and traded to get more supplies ,to influence the barracks. No wonder they don’t have any jobs over there anymore. That was my “Art of the Deal”.

Shore story long, in the winter it gets dark before we get released in the Army, usually 4:30, clubs don’t start pumping til midnight. I had filled a squeeze bottle with 151 n coke. When everyone else left to the club I had already thrown up and passed out…of course in the morning, no hangover, let’s do breakfast, when I got my first “You fucking young kids”.

Fast forward to civilian life I was a 151 baby, Pina Coladas n such, if it was Rum it was 151 (that Rhymes)…all the partying and such is on another blog. I will say, as a manic depressed person, as crazy as I got on social media it was keeping me grounded, even after I lost my mom to cancer. My late great comedian friend Ed Blake even told me, “You are the definition of a functioning drunk.”

I finally turned my back on it lately for weight purposes, also coca cola, and eating out big girls, it’s not good for your waistline. Two of those statements are real, you decide.

I will still do a drink or shot of it once in awhile to appease the gods…or if I’m in Midtown and those fucking prices are ridiculous!  As of now it’s cheap vodka mixed with club soda or non sugar tea. But I carry it a 1 to 5 mixture, with 1 straw.

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