Anyhow, Christmas morning I'm helping my mom and her husband get the house ready for guests, and my youngest sister is the first person over. I was really looking forward to seeing her; her husband's in Iraq (SEMPER FI, DEVIL DOG) and I knew she needed some cheering up. So I give her a big hug, help her carry gifts in from the car and generally act big brother-ish.
Which she rewards by stabbing me in the back.
Not literally. But she opens the fridge and asks, "Where's the beer?" A perfectly natural question from a South Side girl. Unfortunately, she then spotted the bottle of champagne WAAAAAAYYYY in the back. "Hey, can we open the champagne?"
I turn to my mom with a look of desperation, a pair of pleading puppy-dog eyes that say, "Please say no, please say no, pleasesaynopleasesaynopleasesaynopleasesaynopleasesayno..." I didn't bring any booze because there are a couple of members in my family who stopped drinking for serious reasons, and I didn't want to be the dumbass guzzling liquor in front of them all day. But somehow I know I'm gonna get roped into drinking the bubbly if my sister cracks it open.
Alas, my own mother ruthlessly says, "Sure, why not?" Sometimes I wonder if she really loves me.
I firmly believe there are only three occasions on which champagne should be quaffed: weddings, New Year's and if you're out with your boss and he/she insists everyone have some. Actually, that last reason goes for just about anything; if he/she wants you to do a shot of Drano, man up.
But this is none of those occasions, which makes this a girly-man drink. My sister shoves a glass into my hand, and gets two more for our folks. Then she has the nerve to turn to me and ask if I want orange juice.
Yes, she actually offered me a mimosa. In her defense, she's a chef, so this fancy-schmancy crap is kind of her day-in day-out mode, but what the hell? A mimosa?
I manage to fight off that offer politely but I'm starting to jones for some rum or vodka, anything to restore my self-image. We clink glasses, offer our season's greetings and everyone takes a sip.
Then it hits me, a way to set things right, both in my head and in the universe. After all, a guy who proudly drinks liquor can't be caught sipping champizzle in his mom's kitchen. That just ain't right. You're messing with karma there, and Lord knows I've done that enough.
So I grin at my sister, raise my glass, and say, "Bottoms up." And chug the whole thing.
Now, I'm not saying this is the alcoholic equivalent of killing off a rocks glass full of whiskey or shotgunning a can of beer. However, chugging drinks in polite company isn't considered, well, polite, and chugging champagne - the elegant beverage for the bourgeoisie, made to be sipped and savored - is just out and out gauche. Ask me if I care.
My sister punches me in the shoulder, my mom sarcastically says, "Oh, that's nice" and my stepdad chuckles. And I belch.
Merry Christmas, y'all.
4 comments:
I actually have no problem with drinking champagne. I see it more as being rich than being un-manly. New Years I usually pop the cork and start chugging right from the bottle. And I usually show up with 2--that's right, I DOUBLE FIST CHAMPAGNE, BABY.
Sometimes I wonder why we're friends.
Then I remember ordering 20 rum and cokes at one time at Mama's and I remember.
damn shame that place is closing
Congrats. I like champagne but it makes my face turn red. .
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