Why do you drink? Give me another drink and I'll tell you.

Pretty sure everyone who knows me, knows that I pride myself on my ability to insert quotes from plays, musicals, and Will & Grace into any conversation no matter how off-topic they may at first appear. Hence the blog title. (Cat on a Hot Tin Roof if you're not already aware...and if you're not, why are we friends?) But I digress (note: digress is one of my all-time favorite words...I think because I do it about every 4.76 seconds). But again, I....say it with me...digress.

Those people who are lucky enough to have known me most of my life know that I was not much of, nay, not at all, a party girl growing up. I've always tried to ask my mom how she instilled this intense guilt and fear in me, but she just taps her fingertips ala Dr. Evil and snickers saying it was all part of her "master plan." I call b.s. on her because I, for one, know that one of my main reasons for not drinking growing up and mostly through college was due to the stories I heard of my grandfather's alcoholism. The intense and inate guilt that I felt just thinking about the possibility of letting my mom down in any similar fashion was enough to keep me from the liquid I now cherish and adore. My parents have never had a problem with alcohol, and in fact, alcohol flowed freely in my house growing up (still does, although I think these days gushes is a more descriptive verb for my parents and their wine and beer!). So, all through my college years at wild and crazy M&A, I rarely drank...save for a few random occurrences.

But nowadays...things could be considered, shall we say "different." A few reasons come to mind:

One - I think I matured to the point that I realized I could drink without becoming the grandfather I never got to meet. 

Two - I consider myself a "late bloomer" and didn't really come out of my shell until after college. Now I bet some of you are wishing I'd shut my mouth and go back in said shell.

And three - I became a teacher.

Now if you're not a teacher, you may be rolling your eyes saying "yeah yeah yeah." But seriously. I'm not kidding when I say that 7th graders and other adults at my school have led me to drink. Often. As I was updating my Facebook status the other day, it dawned on me that I had four happy hours last week. Four! (Now one was a solo ride on my back porch, but it still counts.) As people, including my former boss, commented on it, I couldn't help but laugh at the vast difference between Misc. Redhead now and Misc. Redhead then. I had an offer for another drinky drink this evening, but after having gone out last night too, I decided to stay in and try to act like the pushing-30 grown-up I should be. So, I'm doing some innocent stalking on Facebook, blogging, and laughing at the cute face one of the cats is making while he sleeps.

Damn that sounds sad. I should have gone to the bar.