Because…That’s Why

“but, like, really?”




“but…whyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy?!” – grabs shoulder, possibly for stability.


::blank stare::


“I gotta peeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee.”


Above is something that happens quite often to me. It’s like there is a crack in the mainframe whenever I tell people I don’t drink and they just can’t get around it. A glitch is created in the system where every five-minutes the same person comes up to me and we go through the process above, yes, even the pee part. There’s no logical explanation to them as to why I don’t indulge in alcoholic beverages especially when THEY are having such a great time. I’m on the other team folks and you think that you’re winning but – uhhhhh – you’re not.

You are having a great time losing though.

Breaking the news to someone new is an amazing experience. The confusion that comes over their face is priceless. I wish I could bottle it up and sell it to people so they can experience it when they are sober. It’s like they were searching for something in the attic of their parent’s house and came across a box of pictures leading them to discover their parents met at a nudist colony and then pieced together they still go back for a “reunion weekend” every year.

A lot of loose skin, folks.

I used to drink, kind of. It never really did anything for me. But I do have to admit that I’ve never gotten drunk.

Yes, really.

For the entire 29 years on this earth I think I have tallied about a 6-pack of beer or what the kids these days drink to “pre-game” before going out and drinking more.

“well, you see, we pre-game to save money at the bar because beers are like $5 a pop.”


That’s like a gambler taking $100 and then just shredding it so they will save money at the casino, it just doesn’t work like that. From what I’ve seen – and, to be fair, I’ve never experienced it – when you’re drunk all inhibitions are thrown right out the window, which is where my friend one time threw his clothes off when drunk. So while, in theory, the idea seems smart, showing up at a bar drunk just guarantees that you will spend more money because you are only focused on having a good time and not the financial ramifications of beers being “$5 a pop.”

Anyway…in my younger years I really thought I was a bad ass. Not only did I drink like 1 beer a week for a while, but I also would steal things! Yes, I would do #6 on the top 10 things on that commandment stone and did it pretty often.

It was kind of ingenious really.

I was a little overweight and, for some reason, I would oft wear XL sized clothes. This also included my coat, which I absolutely adored at the time. It was a large black coat that only zipped half way and had a connected pocket in the middle like a hoodie does. As time passed a hole was created in the fleece pocket opening up a passageway to the canvas part of the coat, thus allowing me to carry things in large quantity and BOY DID I EVER!

With this discovery I took my show on the road, well not the road but really our local convenience store. Once inside my friend would distract the person working the register that night, usually someone who would rather be anywhere else in the world, and I would walk straight to the back where the refrigerators were.  Camouflaged by the stacks of chips and outside the view of the security cameras which, let’s face it, probably weren’t really recording anything – we’ve all seen SVU – I started in on my caper.

I would then take a variety of different beers as taking all of the same kind would tip this clerk off even more that we were robbing him – again, I can’t stress enough how much this guy didn’t give a shit that we were in there – and stuff them inside the lining of my coat. The mix was usually just a bunch of Zima – we were kids after all – and Rolling Rock because I tried it once when I was 8 and decided I enjoyed the taste of it.

The biggest challenge was yet to come and that was leaving the store without arousing suspicion from someone who barely even acknowledged our existence. Actually he was probably more pissed off we were disturbing him from his clearly visible Barely 18 magazine than the fact that I stole about $7 in beer.

But I wanted to be a pro about it so I put on the performance of a lifetime. I would walk out slowly with my hands in my pockets and extend my arms so it look as if I had gained 100 pounds in 30-seconds. I was always successful at this and did it 3 or 4 more times, never was the clerk concerned about my rapid weight fluctuations, and he also never seemed concerned as to why my jacket made the sound of glass bottles rattling.

My friends and I would then celebrate our victory by going to the train station platform and drinking them in public! With the 8 beers I could fit in my jacket that gave each of us 1.3 beers each or, as I like to say, hardly worth the effort.

As we grew older my friends would indulge in the consumption of alcohol and would do so in copious amounts. My one friend would have parties constantly and we would all go, they would get drunk and I would have blackmail over them for years to come!

It was great.

One time I got into a long discussion with a girl that I was head over heels for and it was really going well and I was so excited. She asked me to go outside with her to “talk” and I didn’t get the hint I was all like, “that’s what we’re doing now, OMG you’re so drunk.”

So I followed her outside and she insisted on repeating herself every five minutes and asks “so, seriously, why don’t you drink?” And just as I was about to respond she throws up in the bushes. She stands back up and throws her hair back and I look at her with some residue on her face and I only had one response in that moment.

“That’s why.”


One thought on “Because…That’s Why

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s