Why I Hate Booze

I'm the first to admit I have hang-ups about booze. You can't grow up surrounded by alcoholics without being screwed up.

If I'm out at a fancy restaurant, I order a glass of wine. Or a Bloody Caesar. Mmmm, I love a good Bloody Caesar. Other than that, I don't drink. Dave is as much as a boozer as me. He'll have two or three Rum & Cokes at the Christmas party, but there's been a mickey of rum in the house since dinosaurs roamed the earth. (Every once in a while I dust it.)

My father was an alcoholic (who went to rehab later in life and never drank again, bless his soul). My grandfather was an alcoholic. Several of my other close relatives battle with the bottle. My ex mother-in-law and her ridiculous second husband are both alcoholics. I tell ya, I have put up with more than my fair share of shit-faced people over the years and I am sick and tired of it.

I hate how people get when they're drunk. Stupid. Irrational. Mouthy. Violent. Selfish. They fight. They drive. They cause accidents. They lose their licenses. They lose their jobs. They lose their families. Sometimes they live in filthy, disgusting hovels fit only for TV shows like Hoarders. Sometimes they even kill people. And still, they drink.

There's nothing they like better than getting wasted. It's big-time excitement, going to a bar, or a party, or sitting around in a living room with a few drinking buddies and a few bottles of whiskey. Dave and I used to get invited to these shin-digs all the time until people figured out we're boring old farts, dryer than popcorn farts in a desert. Drinkers generally hang out with drinkers. There's no judgement that way and nobody seems to mind if breakfast is hair of the dog and a pack of smokes.

There's the odd person, though, who doesn't "get" that we don't want to hang around with drunks and insist on showing up at our place half (or entirely) in the bag, toting booze and looking for a party. A few years ago this couple showed up uninvited. We offered them coffee or a Coke and the girl asked, "Ya got anything else? Any beer or liquor?" I was shocked by her forwardness and instead of saying, "No," I remembered the dusty bottle of rum in the cupboard and said, "Um, yeah, I think so." I made her and her boyfriend a drink and put the bottle back in the cupboard. Her and the boyfriend guzzled down their drinks in record time. A few minutes later she got off the couch and headed to the kitchen. Without asking, she fetched the rum from the cupboard and poured herself and the guy hefty drinks. She did this again, and again, until the booze was gone, while I secretly fumed at her obnoxiousness and my own inability to stand up for myself.

Generally speaking, I'm a polite person. So is Dave. We're proud of that, but sometimes we get taken advantage of. We should have asked the couple to leave but politeness and good manners stopped us. The couple, on the other hand, had no manners whatsoever.

And that's my problem. That's what I'm so mad about. Boozers will consistently walk all over us because we're too polite to kick them the hell out. We've had individuals show up at our house with booze in their hand (they were probably drinking it while they were driving here), and sit down and carry on without even asking if it's ok. KNOWING how I feel about it, but doing it anyway. Then flinging cigarette butts on our front lawn and leaving them for us to pick up.

Well I'm sorry. I am not putting up with this boorish behaviour any longer. I have drawn a line in the sand. This is my house. Not yours. And I refuse to let your drinking problem interfere with my life. You are not my child or my parent. I am not your caretaker. I am not here to clean up your messes. You want to ruin your life? Go ahead. Just don't involve me.

If you want to hang out here, quit drinking, quit smoking and grow the hell up.