Ahhh Friday. Thank the gods for Friday. Well, at least when it really IS a Friday (as in the day before the weekend) rather than some nameless day in the middle of your month long work week. Today Marietta (our Resident Knitting Goddess) decided that today was Eat Thai Food Outside of This building Day. We heartily concurred, and off we went to Sala Thai for lunch. Ahh, good food, a copy of Happy Hooker, the conversation…. It was revealed that Marietta does not care for the flavor or smell imparted to food by our friend the coconut. She said the reasonfor this stemmed from an event. It was quickly decided that any story that begins “back when I was a freshman” is bound to end badly. Usually with everyone laughing years down the road. This is why I cannot drink anything green.

Once upon a time I was in college. I was an undergrad, working on a show, and I was turning 21. Now for all my life, I had promised to myself that I would not get drunk on my 21st birthday. I failed to see the point, you see. In my family, alcohol was not vilified, it was not revered, it simply was. Parties were somewhat disappointing for me: “It’s a beer. So what? big deal.” That was, of course, before I had a roaring fight with my boyfriend and stormed off to the closing night party without him. Many rum and cokes later, and I was deciding that what I REALLY needed was a big old glass of water and a chair to sober up in.

This, by all the laws of the universe, was clearly the cue for our lead actress to stumble up to me, throw her arm around my shoulders, and say convincingly “Neomera! It’s your birshday?! You’ve GOTTA do a shot wish me!” and lurch with me to the bar that had been set up in my friend’s basement. she asked for two shots of “rusnmlbbaszh” (I swear. that’s what she said. Course, I was a little drunk at the time…)

Well, two shot glasses full of a clear liquid were placed in front of us, we picked them up, saluted each other, and tossed them back. It was like drinking toothpaste. I have a fuzzy recollection of managing to get the shot glass back to the top of the bar as it slid past my face due to my knees giving up on me. That’s really about all I can remember of that night until my boyfriend and my host appeared in front of me with a glass of water and a pizza. I have no idea where either my boy or the pizza came from, but I thanked them kindly, pointed out that a slice of pizza would not end well, and could I please go back to my dorm room now?

Years passed and the merest hint of mint flavoring in drinks makes me nauseous. Fresh mint? Sure, that’s ok. Green liquid? My brain had firmly cemented the idea that green liquid = mint flavor even when it doesn’t. (Isn’t midori melon flavored?) What was the mystery shot, you ask? I did finally figure out what it was. Rumplemintz. Ick.