Quote of the Day: “Better belly burst than good liquor be lost.” –Jonathon Swift
TB gets a lot of pleasure from reading the commentary that appears below my posts. About a week ago I put out a plea for reminders of old ARB stories that need to be recorded in letters in addition to the oral tradition. That post by the way will remain open and when an ARB thinks of another to add, don’t hesitate just because we’ve moved on to something new.
I’ve also been thinking of a way to show appreciation for your participation and being that the TB balance sheet is in a state of equilibrium (a nice way of saying zero) I thought I’d institute a “Comment of the Week” feature rather than doling out some major award that would throw my ledger out of balance. Just don’t necessarily expect to see it every week. But this week, the award goes to Smily for his reminder of a funny but embarrassing episode from our college days. Smily takes pride in telling the story linked here (14th comment) because it is one of the only times in his half decade of college attendance that he was (relatively) sober, trying to impress a high school aged girlfriend that day with his college maturity and sophistication. Still, its all true as he relates, and pretty funny to boot. Lest anyone who doesn’t know Smily get the wrong idea about his role in our college runnin days, I submit for your enjoyment the text of a conversation we had one night circa 1990.
First, a little background. In those days Smily and TB along with Greekson were in school at Mississippi State. None of us had joined frats so there was only one option for weekend activities (defined as Wed night through Sunday afternoon) for underage punks and that was to drink in our dorms/apartments until time to go to The Landing twenty miles away to shoot pool, then up to Doug’s another mile back toward campus for late night bands and girl chasin. Most people didn’t go out until Doug’s got crankin, typically around 10:30. However, by that time you had to pay a cover charge, probably three to five bucks, or in terms we could better understand at the time, more than a six pack. Once inside, beers were another buck and a half. High cotton indeed. None of us had much in the way of spending money and when it came to booze we were quite protective of our purchases. Often we would pool our money but with the clear understanding that we each would get beers or drinks in direct proportion to how much we contributed and not a sip more. It’s not that we were stingy; it was just the law of the jungle.
But there was a way around spending too much money, especially on Thursdays. From 7:00 to 8:00 pm Doug’s had no cover and nickel beer. Now, this beer was god-awful lukewarm Beast lite, but then again, it was a nickel. Alone that probably wouldn’t have attracted us but what sealed the deal was we could get a stamp at 8 allowing us back in for the rest of the night so we could avoid the cover charge. We would leave Doug’s after getting stamped and drive over to the Landing which never charged cover. Still, they did want that buck and a half for beer and nobody really got there until around 9. So we’d sit in the car shooting the breeze and listening to classic rock and drinking our Miller Lite from Sack and Save (3 bucks per 6). Finally in to The Landing, then over to Doug’s later on and occasionally all the way to Crawford to Mack’s Supper Club (“we open up when everybody else shuts down”–but a story for another day.)
One night for some reason we were drinking 7&7’s instead of beer and were parked at Doug’s instead of The Landing diggin on tunes and arguin about anything. I liked to sit in the back seat and be in charge of the drinks and on this night I was doing the mixing and serving from my usual place. Greekson always drove and Smily had shotgun. That fact isn’t pertinent to this story but it was an extremely important accord we’d reached in those days so I include it to give a more complete sense of that time and place. Anyway, I fixed myself a drink, then one for Greekson and Smily and passed them forward. We’d already had a few drinks, but weren’t overserved so what follows cannot be excused by drunkenness. It’s just Smily bein Smily.
Greekson–Hey man, hurry up with that drink. I ain’t got all night to sit here being sober.
TB–Don’t make me kick your ass again Greekson. Here, enjoy. Here’s yours too Smily.
Smily–Why do I get the smallest cup?
TB–Because I always use this one-it’s my lucky cup and Greekson already drank out of his.
Smily–That’s BS, you gave me the smallest cup on purpose.
TB–What difference does it make?
Smily–MY DRINK IS WEAKER ASSHOLE!
Smily–Y’all are gonna get more liquor.
TB–How so? I’ll just pour you another drink sooner than I will for us.
Smily–Y’all are gonna get more. My drink isn’t as strong as yours.
TB–Say that again.
Smily–Y’ALL’S DRINKS ARE STRONGER!
TB–SMILY YOU’RE A DAMN IDIOT! THE SIZE OF THE CUP MAKES NO DIFFERENCE IN THE STRENGTH OF THE DRINK! (the music was turned up really loud)
Smily–Greekson, tell him what I’m talkin about.
Greekson–I have no idea what you’re talkin about.
Smily–Y’all are tryin to screw me.
TB–Listen, the strength of the drink has nothing to do with the size of the cup. It’s all about the proportion of 7 up to liquor. I made everybody’s half and half. As soon as you finish yours I’ll make you another one.
Smily–Right. But mine will be weaker.
TB–Greekson, can you help me out here.
Greekson–(launches in to a scientist’s explanation of the principle of size vs strength, Smily and TB’s eyes glazing over, and ending with) So just shut up for once and drink!
Smily–Don’t make me kick your ass again Greekson.
Greekson–(muttering to self)
TB–Dude, you’re not really serious about this one are you?
Smily–Y’all are screwin me.
TB–Well, you’re stuck with that cup and I’m never gonna let you live this down. I swear to God you can argue with a brick wall.
<ten seconds of silence, except for AC/DC>
Smily–Since when is that your lucky cup????