Social drinker
Social drinker……A person who consumes alcoholic beverages in moderation–ie, = 2 'standard drinks'/day, often in a socially acceptable situation.
There were several social drinkers that would usually stop in Tessie’s bar. Hank, a retired electrician, would stop in every Friday after work and enjoy two small glasses of beer. Kyle, Ed and Larry, three college students were on a softball team and would stop in after a game for a few drinks and team up with a few regulars for a few games of pool. Kerry and Jessica young neighbors enjoyed a drink or two and to catch up on current events. They were amused to watch the out of control drinkers in Tessie’s bar. There were always a few memorable moments. Fran, a humorous middle-aged woman, would sip a glass of wine on ladies night, but never even finish it. She spent money on the Juke box and truly enjoyed music and being around people. Her point of view on life was “Let’s agree to disagree.”
The regular (out of control drinkers) at Tessie’s bar were very puzzled by these social drinkers and always watched them sip their drink. In a way they respected them. How is it possible to drink and not lose control? What is the point of one or two drinks?
The regulars compiled a list of what they had observed.
They do not drink alone, they do not throw up on the juke box.
The police are not called, they do not start fights.
They do not get hospitalized or institutionalized because of their drinking.
They do not lie or deny about how much they drink.
They do not fall down, get up and fall down again.
They do not crave more; they can take it or leave it. Not a problem.
They are very co-operative and coherent.
They sip two or three drinks all night. (Usually once a week OR once a month)
They don’t need a drink the next morning or have a case of the jitters.
Drinking does not affect their reputation.
They do not piss in their pants or in the parking lot.
If they go to a house party, they bring a 6 pack of beer (to share).
They do not fall asleep at the bar, in cars or at festivals.
They do not get cut off or barred and start crying.
They do not lose time from work due to drinking;
they do not drink at work.
They are willing & able to cheerfully answer the phone the next day.
They do not awaken with an overwhelming fear that they should go back and apologize but do not remember where?
They do not do irrational, tragic things while drinking, they are generally lovely people.
They do not come to their senses, and wonder what the hell happened last night in my stupor.
They know where they are at, where they have been and where their car is at all times.
Just then, One Beer Tom, the jokester stopped in, ordered a small glass of beer and said
“Here is the joke of the day”:
When things were getting really bad, I found a couple of guys to room with me to help save on expenses. One of them even had his daughter move in with us. There we were, three drunks and a heroin addict
We all went about our daily routines but showed up in the evening to party together. It wasn't long when the place became a pig-sty. Everything became filthy. None of us were cleaning the place and it just got worse and worse.
So one day, when I went to the store, in addition to the two cases of beer, I bought some coffee, some cooking oil, potato chips and some Mr. Clean cleaning fluid. That night, I was home alone as the others were out partying somewhere. I proceeded to get good and drunk and then decided I was going to clean the place up a bit
I went to the closet and got a bucket and reached into the cabinet and pored in some cleaning fluid. I washed the floor and I picked up the place.
The next morning, my friends were back, passed out on the couch or in their room. I fixed some coffee and noticed that the floor was still wet.
The coffee was done so I poured a half a cup and filled it up the rest of the way with brandy.
Later my room mates got up and followed my lead. Each was happy to see I had cleaned up the place.
The next day the floor was still wet. I figured it was just because we lived in a basement flat.
Two more days passed and the floor was still wet. My friend said he knew someone who could help. He called this woman and she came over. It seems she was very superstitious. She convinced all of us that the floor was not drying because of "evil" spirits in the place. Of course, we were all wasted. She began to chant these sayings, I'm not even sure what language she was speaking. She started to dance around and then knocked over a table with my beer on it. I got angry and kicked everyone out of the place. I continued to drink for a while and then did some coke. I was fed up with everyone and the world. I was really pissed off that the floor looked so bad. All that moisture and the dirt of our shoes had made a real mess
So, once again I got out the bucket to wash the floor. I opened the cabinet only to see that the bottle of Mr. Clean was unopened and the bottle of cooking oil was half empty. Guess what I did. That's right, I checked into detox.
This got Tessie thinking of a poem she had written years ago called The Ciotog
In Ireland if you are left handed , you are called a Ciotog.
The Ciotog (pronounced Kith –oug)
They say the wisest people, that came from Ireland
Are the one’s they call the Ciotog’s one who writes with there left hand
Well a Ciotog could surprise you, with any thing they do
Especially one called Margie Lu, I’ll tell you now, it’s true !
She could drink a pint of Guinness, with the Ciotog quick as lightning
And then throw down another pint, believe me it was frightening
Something always made you wonder, when she’d smile at you & wink
Was there magic in the Ciotog or was it just the drink !
CHORUS : A Ciotog and a Guinness, don’t seem to get along
but after 13 pints of Guinness, the poor headeen, it is gone
The Ciotog was a Sushi Chief; she could chop & mix & dice
Rumor say’s she wrote the song, The tail of three blind mice.
In the wee hours of the morning, The Ciotog it would shake
Could hardly hold a cigarette, let alone cook or bake.
But she knew the magic answer was to have a little drop
She’d fill a glass with whiskey, and a little drop of pop.
She could usually keep her mouth shut, unless you started first
And you really would regret it, when she’d start to swing and curse. CHORUS
She was actually very funny and was usually very kind
But washing down shots with Guinness, made her loose her mind.
Next morning she’d apologize and buy us all a drink
And all would be quite for a little while, maybe till her 7th drink
Sometime she’d take the melodeon out and for us a tune she’d play
That Ciotog never got tired; it could make music night and day.
She also played the fiddle, and the Ciotog, how it flew
But what would happen next, why, nobody ever knew CHORUS
One day quite unexpected when, somebody got her mad
She sent the Ciotog flying and knocked out a six-foot lad
So I’ll tell you lads and lassies, you must believe it’s true
Be careful round a Ciotog, for you don’t know what they’ll do ?
She finally was arrested, and as she sat in jail
Wondered how she got there and who would bring the bail ?
She hope’s that they would hurry, since her nerves were really shot
She hadn’t gotten any sleep, upon the jail cell cot CHORUS
Who arrived to bail the Ciotog out, was really a surprise
The parish priest was standing there, before her bloodshot eyes
He handed her a paper, and he handed her a pen
Now sign this pledge & promise me, your drinking days will end
Now I’ve heard all about you and your drinking days are done
Your troubles not the 13th pint, It’s Guinness number 1
She signed the dotted line, more that 7 years ago
The world is now a safer place. I want you all to know CHORUS
This got the customers laughing, and started talking about all the lunatics that use to be in for Happy Hour when it was from 7AM-8AM. Now they were no longer around.
“Remember Mike and Rachel?” asked Tessie, “and how they thought they were better than the rest of us around here until Rachel figured out the Mike was really gay and she chased him around the parking lot with her car trying to run him over. Thank God the police showed up!”
“Remember Angie?” asked Tessie, “and how she would get drunk and call her mother up screaming and yelling about what a bitch she was and that it was her mother’s fault she drank.”
“Remember Donny?” asked Tessie, “how in the winter time he would come in with no shoes, just for fun and then go next door to the bakery and buy a loaf of Italian bread. Then he would have them slice it down the middle and wear one on each foot. Now he was a nut.”
“Remember Sylvia?” asked Tessie, “and how she would always be banging on the door at five to seven screaming that my clock was slow here in the bar.”
“Remember how much we would laugh here at happy hour? I wonder what ever happened to them and what there doing now? “asked Tessie.
“Remember Joann?” asked Tessie. “That was the saddest funeral I was ever at.”
Joann was a woman that was dealt a bad hand of cards. Her family would always anticipate her showing up drunk and would hide the liquor from her when they knew she was coming over. Over the years she went from bad condition to worse and had been to jail, psych wards, had several DUI’s and would usually be in the bar at 7AM for an eye opener. Her life was becoming a mess that she seen no way out of. She really thought that nobody knew how messed up her reality was becoming. Joann knew she was functioning, but not really in reality. When Joann’s husband filed for divorce and got custody of the kids, she realized she was drinking too much and tried to get it together. She was a nervous wreck and always tried to be on her best behavior. Every Sunday at noon she had a thirty minute supervised visit with her kids. Her ex-husband had warned her not to show up wasted and make a scene. Joann told us that it was hard to imagine the loneliness she felt and that the silence was deafening where she now lived in her one rental room where she eventually committed suicide by shooting herself with a rifle one Saturday night when she ran out of excuses for living.
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