Dave.

So I decided that AA may not be the best choice for me. After I discussed it with Ketel we came to the conclusion that rehab is for quitters. Also they frown upon "Slipping" more than twice a week. I felt like if I had to get up everyday and say "Hi. My names B. I've been sober for.. *looks at watch*.. 34 minutes..and now.. how to make the perfect mojito." I might cause the whole class to slip. And not everyone is a happy and experienced drunk like me...which would result in broken limbs..a stab to the eye or maybe a swift kick to someones lower extremities.

I did however decide that it would be a good idea to write a book about me and Ketel. We've had such a happy life together since I was 12. I feel that I owe it to him. Oh, Ketel One..let me count all the ways that I love you. The day my dad found alcohol in the back trunk of my car when he was going to NASA..you were there. I was only 16...what a day that was. Didn't really turn out like I expected.

I was sitting in my room piecing together the previous night when Dave said "Can you come downstairs?" Ihad to think quick...usually my parents would come upstairs if they needed me..I only went downstairs when they had incriminating evidence against me. My childhood home operated much like a prison. You only have to see the warden when some shit went down. I said "Self...what did you do last week...cheated on two tests...fooled around with my boyfriend in his car in the school parking lot..got caught by his coach..ate some bad lettuce..drank on all the days that ended with Y. Lets see....I blacked out friday from a party...what could it beee?"

I rounded the corner thinking this has got to be about me not changing my oil last week. Dave's a stickler for changing the oil. He even made me write down how much gas I put in my car in a small booklet. That didn't last. Not only because I hate the word booklet but because I have ADHD. You can't ask me to focus on more than one thing at a gas pump. There would be a fire and small children crying. Dave still carries one in his pocket. Ask him about it...make sure you have a spoon to pluck your eyeballs out with close by.

As I got to the kitchen he was standing..odd..waiting for me.."Come with me." Hmm he must have got the note I left him about needing a John Deer gator. They can hold at least five coolers. But to my surprise..it was my cooler he had a question about. He flipped it open..and to my complete enjoyment there sat, glistening with small beads of water dripping down the side..3 bottles of Ketel..two empty bottles of Ketel...a few Mikes Hard Lemonade, two bottles of wine, a 12 pack of Bud and a bent and soaked condom box.

"What's this?" .."I think they call it alcohol Dave."

"Did you just call me Dave?..and not the alcohol..the condoms?" My dads very gifted at staying calm..especially if you can act nonchalant about a situation. I think he appreciates that I can talk to him like a colleague.

I shrugged and looked at my fingers. I noticed for the first time I had a white bandage that took up my two last fingers on my left hand. I would need to call and get some answers later. "Me and my friends blew them up and stuck them in Steve's truck..."

"So these aren't for what I think they are then?"

"Jesus Dave I'm not 12. No they're not for SEX." Yet. With that Dave shrugged..closed my cooler and patted me on the back. "Good..I thought I was going to have to ground you.." and with that he left to go eat more peanuts and read time magazine on how to save more money on gas.

Huh. Nevermind the amount of alcohol that could have caused a small explosion. Dave just didn't want my cherry popped anytime soon.

And that's when me and Ketel become inseparable. I truly believe I owe not being put in the D home or Bradford..at age 16 to Ketel.

So I'm writing a book... about our adventures together. We'll call The Vodka of Life. Because life...it gave me vodka..not just lemons. And it's been happy sailing ever since.

Epiphany.

Sometimes shit happens in your life that really makes you contemplate the choices you make. For me my epiphany came this weekend. In the form of Long Island ice teas.

I love to drink. You may or may not know this about me. Most of the time my drinking consist of high priced vodka..and I don't like to waste it all on one night...unless there's promise of a trip to the lakehouse and the hot neighbor down the street following me around in his boxers while he serenades me.

This year for Father's Day I thought I wanted to do something extra special for my dad. So a day early and after we sang camp fire songs around the table and held hands as a family..he left for work to take care of some "top secret NASA project." I tried to get him to let me in on the secret..cause NASA is signing me next week and I need to be in the know. Maybe I can impress some top guys with my knowledge and get a window seat to the moon. Who knows. After an hour of getting NOWHERE with Dave...I decided to hit the bar.

I settled in to my usual seat with Red and started up a conversation about 1950's trucks. This is where I went wrong..way wrong..once you start with Red...he won't let you stop. Pretty soon I found myself 3 beers, two white russians, and a pitcher of Long Island ice tea in. Yes I said pitcher. Then because I put $5 in the jut box worth of music I convinced myself to stay and have another pitcher of Long Island...to finish out the songs of course.

I'm not sure when the course of events went from chill to out of control...but three things happened at once. My brother called and needed me...J was flirting with random guys so I had to act quick on her behalf or she would be making out with the whole bar...and some one in a back corner was yelling "Chug Chug Chug." So a half full pitcher of Long Island was handled in under 10 minutes. Red in all of his glazed over glory looked us dead in the eyes and said "A chip off the ole block." I'm pretty sure this was our proudest moment.WTF. This is what my liver was saying.

I don't remember much after Red peed in my mom's rose bush. I do know I woke up the next morning. Naked. The vodka was gone. The rum was gone. And I was 90% sure I was going to need Plan B. I also needed answers. Why was the rum gone? Who poured beer into a shot glass? And why on God's green earth were all of my underwears laying on the couch like a Victoria Secret semi annul sale?

I'm pretty sure I begged J for a cigarette (I don't smoke)..at some point I remember running around with a beach towel and nothing else..and licking vodka off the kitchen counter...while singing the Maxwell coffee commercial theme song. I also tried to convince everyone that the autobots were coming to save us. And that I could get them the hook up at NASA.

I was also fairly certain we lived in the Dark Ages and kept demanding to be called "Good Sir." It wasn't until I begged my brother to let me hang out with him and his friends..cause I like em young..to which he replied..."Ok but you can't act like you did last time."

I'm confused. I was fairly certain I hadn't cussed anyone out and I even managed to hug his girlfriends...this is huge deal. I don't hug. I don't hug girls. And I don't hug girls that want in my brothers pants. He quickly corrected me and said..."No. You were crazy ass drunk." My 21 year old college brother told me I was a crazy drunk. Rock bottom?

AA got its newest member that day. Hahaa no not really ...Jesus can you imagine? Lol. I am however, working on the 12 steps. I'm not sure what I'm going to do when I get to step 8. I'm a natural bitch so this will really take some work..I'm going to pick up some hobbies that prevent me from drinking quite so much...for example sky diving..rock climbing...shooting range..knitting...all of which would be difficult in a drunk induced state. Unless it was knitting.

I'll keep you posted.