Not the chicks wearing the pleated skirts bouncing around like morons screaming in unison, every guy loves those cheerleaders.
I'm talking about the inevitable left over beers/drinks that are lying around after a party. The ones that "a cheerleader must have had and decided to finish only half of, tee hee, I'll just leave this here and get another." I think my problem stems from college, when a fraternity decides to throw a party it's inevitable that there will be a few cheerleaders around. Some people forget where they placed their beverage, some don't care if they open a new one without finishing, sometimes the beer in hand just get a little too warm and needs to be left somewhere for other to clean it up. It's a disgusting habit and when faced with the eventual clean up it is even more revolting. What's in this can, why is that one spilled on the rug, who's the momo that left the full beer on top of the fishtank sitting on the walkin refridgerator with a cigarette butt stuck in it?
I managed to roll to the Brother's place this past friday and had dinner with the fam, upon returning home I had a spring cleaning moment. I looked at my bar set-up adn decided that all the cheerleaders must go. Anything that was 1/4 of a bottle or less had to be consumed. It only stands to reason, (thanks to the Awrod and his wisdom... when it reaches that point of empty it oxidizes in the bottle and becomes worthless, that's just science.) once the mixers were placed on the coffee table I began the monumental task of getting rid of them. (Disclaimer: If I called or texted you Friday evening into Saturday morning I apologize) The vodka, gin, maker's mark, kalhula, rum, Morgan's, Jack, Jose and the last wee bit of Scotch I had are now gone. I'm not going to lie, I was up until 9am...and it definitely left a mark! Think of when you sleep in in the morning and you get out of bed with a tiny hangover at 10am to begin your day. I did the same thing...only it was tuned to my schedule, I woke at 6pm and decided the day was already wasted, I held the couch down and cursed my ill fated decision.
The good news is that I don't have anymore booze in my place, which makes it that much easier to cut it out of my diet.
I can't stand cheerleaders.
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2 comments:
Date rape drugs. That's why an open container, set down, doesn't get picked up again... at least by most of us well-warned college girls. Except for that one time, at the rugby house... ugh. Yeah. Good thing I don't like beer in the first place.
Great point, being an upstanding moral human being I hadn't even considered that possibility. And now I'm more the wiser.
As long as I can keep me from plopping a rufie in my drinks at the homestead I won't have to be angry with myself in the morning.
I also had the opportunity while slinging some paint that evening to mistake a tangueray and tonic for a solid whack of paint thinner, well turpenoid actually but it had the expected results. A monsterous spit take without the cameras rolling. I should have noticed when there was no lime. Oops
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