History of Happy Juice and Cancer Sticks

So i'm sipping on Fruit Punch Gatorade and playing some old school tracks in the background hoping to recover from a few early drinks so I can enjoy the rest of the evening before tomorrow's work day. I finally did some refilling on my wine rack (thanks guys!) after being empty for a few weeks with my beer spurt. I was wined out for a while but in the mood for more now. But tonight I settled for two glasses of vodka tonic and a bottle of Red Stripe with my fish and chips dinner and I feel cool now. I don't know if its the alcohol taking over my fingertips mixed with the college old school jazzy electronic sounds of Mike Francis but I can't help but write and reminisce over the years of my discovery of happy juice.

I remember being a junior in high school when my mom found an empty bottle of gin in my room. Stupid me forgot to throw the bottle away after pouring the contents into a thermos for a class Christmas party. So one day my mom cleans my jungle of a room and finds the empty bottle under my bed. I wonder what it feels like to find a bottle of gin in your sixteen year old son's room. Sorry mom! I remember denying that the bottle was mine, but of course, what the hell would I want with an empty bottle of gin, and on top of that, try to hide it. And that wasn't the only bottle that was brought in the house. Its cool mom, I still graduated at the top of my class right?

This wasn't the first time I was caught. My mom always smelled smoke on my clothes but I always made excuses that everyone around me at school smoked and the secondhand smoke was sticking to my shirts and that I don't touch the stuff. I remember whenever I would go home to see my parents I would brush my gums like crazy so they wouldn't look dark and blame the cold Baguio weather for my chapped lips. Anyway, while loading the washing machine with my dirty clothes, my mom found an empty pack of Marlboros in one of my shirt pockets.

All she said was, "Look what I found".

And all I could say in fear was, "Cool!". And that was the end of that conversation.

When I was a senior in college the whole smoking thing was brought up again. I used to smoke in my bathroom before taking a shower and one day my parents could still smell it even after exhaling through a window and through the scent of shampoo, soap and cologne. My dad said he could smell it and asked if I smoke. I was in denial mode again especially since he quit smoking years ago.

And then he said, "Don't be so defensive. Its okay if you do, I'm just asking.".

Its fine if they accepted all these things, but of all things, its the one thing I don't want my parents to see me do.

One of the highlights of college was drinking while completing group projects late at night. The video technician at school had his own video production business where all of us would go to finish our projects and it was conveniently located next door to a little eatery that served alcohol. I remember the semester when we were completing our film, my money was reserved solely for production costs and beer. Its stupid but I remember being mad at myself for eating a good pricy lunch and end up being short on money for beer for the evening. I would budget everything so that I was sure that I would have enough for a few bottles of Red Horse malt liquor (people called me Rhod Horse), then get into creative mode while buzzed, finish my work, then walk home drunk at three in the morning and make it to class by 7:30, and get good grades. This was the routine until graduation.

And the next semester being my last had me drinking everyday at three in the afternoon since I only had four classes left to graduate. During my last two years of college, I loved having people over the apartment so I could cook and drink. I even had a five gallon water jug which was filled with gin and triple sec at the end of each week and I became the homebody that made my apartment the Saturday night spot.

I do miss the days. I don't know if I could still drink as much as I did before.

Its weird but I miss waking up with a hangover on a Sunday morning, finding friends half dead in my living room, brewing coffee while listening to Cafe del Mar and enjoying my first cigarette of the day while staring out into the city from my balcony while the sun rises.

Toast to all that made those years last!

I'm fucked up right now.