Chili and beer

Sometimes, I get a wild hair to do something that I hadn't done in years. It happens without notice, and the chances for failure are generally fifty percent. Last night, I made chili for the first time in about 7 years.

After work, I went to the grocery store to stock up for the next couple weeks. My first mistake was going when I was hungry, so I ended up with way too much snack food. The double-stuf Oreos barely made it to the car before I started to get my fix. Going through the aisles, I picked up anything I thought I would need. About halfway through the store, in the spice aisle, I saw the chili seasoning and thought, "hmmm...I think I'll make that tonight!"

Then, I was on a quest for the other ingredients. I had to back track to the meat aisle for the ground beef, then to the produce aisle for the onions, garlic and peppers. I was about to check out when I remembered to get chips. Back to the check-out and I remember I need cheese. back to the check-out and I remember that I need beans. Going back for the beans, I saw a whole section of shelves devoted to canned, ready-to-eat chili, each can mocking me with its silence.

Going home, I threw everything in the pot together and let it simmer for about an hour. Turned out pretty damned good if I do say so myself. Not like the last time, when I practically had to crumble TUMS into the chili as a preventative measure. No, this time, no side effects other than a really full stomach and enough chili left over to last me a week and a half.

Today at work was pretty hectic. Sure, I had my work all laid out for me, and it all looked pretty simple, but apparently today was take your rush jobs to the printers day in the city of Tulsa. By the time five o'clock rolled around I was completely wiped out and nursing a tension headache. A co-worker noticed my suffering and showed me a acupressure technique that didn't work at relieving my headache as much as it distacted me from it with the pain of pinching various parts of my own hands. Like Dennis Miller once said, it's the same reason your nose never itches when your ankle is caught in a bear's mouth.

So, tonight I go down to Arnie's bar to see Cairde Na Gael. It should be a good time. And if it isn't there's always enough beer to fix it. Not that I ever need that much beer...I've learned my limits since St. Patrick's Day, 1999, or as my friends back in Arkansas like to refer to it: "The night Fritschie racked up all those dry cleaning bills". Half a pitcher of Killian's, 3-4 Bud Lights, 4-5 stouts, and about 5 margaritas on an empty stomach. Next thing ya' know, ol' Jed's a millionaire!

Since then, I have my rules for a night of drinking:
1) Always eat first.
2) If I'm driving, I cut myself off at least an hour before getting behind the wheel.
3) always make sure there's someone drunker than I am so I have a point of perspective.
4) Take the surface streets home.
5) Always have a friend with me or have one that I can call in a pinch.
6) Don't try to rush the buzz. It's a marathon, not a speed trial.
7) Once the buzz has been reached, maintain it (keeping in mind rule #2)
8) Make sure all my ex's phone numbers are deleted from my cell phone...just in case.
9) Know what kinds of drunks the people surrounding me are. Stay close to the I-love-you-man drunks, and stay clear of the Hey-have-you-ever-seen-a-dead-body drunks.
10) Always drink to remember, it's so much happier of an experience than trying to drink to forget.