alcohol

So, I've noticed something about me when I drink past the wobbly point.

I become my father.

sigh...
I know that we all become our parents at ONE point or another. I've come to terms with the fact that I have become my mother(when I obsess over the mintuea of the mundane)years ago. But I WISH it wasn't during the times I am inebriated that my father manifests through me.


Now, my father isn't one of those horrible drunks that becomes violent or abusive. He may get angry or sad once in a while, but that all depends on what he's drinking and what is on the news at the time.
He's mainly just jubilant and chatty. Sometimes he may lecture. But again, it all depends on current events and his immediate surroundings. I absolutly adore my father.

Sometimes, when he drinks a bit too much, he starts digressing and contradicting himself.

This is the point where I realize my genealogy is soaked in spirits.

Last night I went over to my parents' house (sans parents) and spent the evening with my sister, Celia and good friend Kyli. We clucked it up in good ol' Zisman style with wine and bubbly and cheap talk about boys. I love that combination. Strong, intelligent women (with just enough personal drama to make for great storytelling), good food, great music
and alcohol.

There is a mechanism that I built for myself last night. No-one can see it because I placed it right in front of the speech center in my brain. It didn't take me a long time to construct. About half a millisecond to be precise. I built it directly after I said something stupid.

I don't remember what it was, and luckily I am smart enough to choose friends and family to get drunk with that will exonerate my miss givings in a flash. I don't even think it was that BAD. I think I just contradicted myself and noticed Celia and Kyli throw each other a confused "ummmm...." kind of a glance. In that instance I was coherant enough in my haze to design and install my own personal "Shut-the-fuck-up" button.

Yep! It sits directly between the speech center of my brain and my mouth and all I have to do is press it in time to keep the thoughts from exiting my face. I'm sure it's not fool-proof. Especially with THIS fool behind the controls.

But it's worth a shot. Because if there is ANYTHING other than my compromised conversational skills that I have inherited from my father, it is NOT wanting to look like a fool in front of two brilliant, beautiful and feisty young women.