Other than drinking copious amounts of champagne while watching the Academy Awards when I was 16 years old (how nerds “turn up”; we all make mistakes), This Square Peg can’t make it beyond one drink.

I was reminded of this during the weekend, when a friend offered me wine at a cookout. After a few, tiny sips, I was giggling like a happy fool. And that’s typically what happens: I take a few sips and I start laughing. And speaking at a decibel only cute puppies can hear. And complaining about the heat. Case in point: I went to a swanky restaurant in the city with my uncle and brother and had half of a cocktail. By the end of that partial cocktail, I was fanning myself, complaining of an invisible heat, cackling, my voice raised as I asked whether George Clooney, who was known to frequent the establishment, was in the room. The ride home found me sprawled in the backseat of the car, asleep and muttering under my breath. You can imagine how much fun my family had with me.

Apparently, the girl who sipped the foamy parts of her Dad’s beer when she was three years old (Mom is still not happy about that) can only handle just that: foam and sips. Of course, this doesn’t occur with drinks that taste like fizzy soda (i.e., wine coolers) and/or drinks where I can’t taste the alcohol. Those do not fall under the category of one and done. Maybe two and done. But the reactions are fairly the same. Anyway, in case you’re wondering:

  • Fizzy, bubbly things like champagne and fruity drinks are wonderful.
  • Harder drinks are out of the question.
  • Wine must be sweet.

Overall, though, add my inability to take more than one drink to the rest of the things I generally can’t do: tumble, eat spicy foods, and engage in anything having to do with roller coasters and/or lifting these feet off the ground when they’re not in an airplane. Ah, well. C’est la vie.

Welcome to Monday. Onwards and upwards…