Took the Lamborgini out for groceries last night.
I was being metaphorical. There are beers, and then there is Guinness. There are cars, and then there are Lamborginis. One doesn’t get wasted on Guinness. It is an esteemed beer. You have a couple, then you switch to something else. To swill Guinness at such a pace, to down it with such haste, to not even let the flavour tickle your taste buds, it’s milky texture coating your tongue, to drink it as if it were anything BUT Guinness… well that’s sacrilege.
It would be like taking the Lamborgini out for groceries.
So I got together with Brian last night for a pint. He’s an MFA directing student at UBC. He also played ‘younger me’ in my play at the playwright’s festival last spring. Great guy. The conversation was equally great. One pint accidentally turned into seven. Unfortunately I broke my own rule and all seven pints were Guinness.
The haze hanging around my head this morning was about as thick as that topping a pint of Guinness. I felt truly awful. I believe I was being punished for my sins. The Lamborgini picked up a few door dings and then dinged me right back.
Haven’t felt this bad since I abused tuica at a Rider game a couple years back. Tuica is 120 proof Romanian firewater. The stuff goes down fighting and you can expect a few bruises and temporary blindness the next day. You could even consider the next day’s penance as part of the ritual.
But Guinness? Gentle stoic Guinness? I had no idea the drink had so many dirty tricks up its sleeve.