The Margarita That Wasn't Meant To Be

We all have embarrassing moments in our lives where we don't necessarily make the best choices.  Well, that was me yesterday.  I'm not sure how many of you are going to enjoy reading this post, but I always did say that I would stay true and honest on my blog, no matter how many followers I have -- even if it's not necessarily my proudest moment in life.

Yesterday around noon time, Jason and I went for what I like to call, our "Annual Expensive Date".  We like to try to go to one of the more upscale restaurants from your typical Burger King or McDonald's at least once a year.  We decided on Texas Roadhouse.  I don't drink alcohol much in general, let alone drinking out.  However, when I do, I definitely recommend Texas Roadhouses margarita's.  I've always been able to handle at least two of them.  That was always the standard minimum for me.  So, I wasn't thinking anything differently yesterday.

Jason ordered a bacon burger which kind of jerked my chain.  I mean, I know their burgers are of a lot better quality than a burger from McDonald's, but you're at a Roadhouse; order something like steak or ribs!  We went at noon time to avoid the dinner crowd because personally, it's not my cup of tea to be around a big crowd of people.  With that being said, I scored on the $8.99, 6 ounce steak lunch special.  I can't see paying $17.99 for a giant steak that you won't even eat a quarter of in one sitting.  Not for nothing, but steak is just one of those things that doesn't taste good reheated.

But anyway.

We started off with our traditional appetizer of fried pickles.  I love fried pickles, especially from Texas Roadhouse.  Of course they always also give you their signature homemade rolls and honey cinnamon butter.

My first margarita of choice was The Hurricane with a Patron kicker, sugar around the rim.  Excuse my use of an internet photo of it.  I sucked that thing down so fast that I didn't have time to take a picture.  It went down pretty good, without a problem.

Along with the idea of thinking that I had no issue with handling two of these bad boys, I had promised my cousin that is having her first baby tomorrow and my mother that I would have a drink for the both of them.  I mean, why not?  After all, I always could handle two of them, so two drinks equals two promises I thought I was capable of keeping.

Big mistake.

When I went to go order my second, I decided on the Sangria Margarita with sugar around the rim and no kicker this time as I was starting to feel pretty good already.  From the time that I had ordered the second drink to the time that the waitress finally delivered it to the table, feeling pretty good transitioned into feeling borderline tipsy.  Yes, feeling pretty good is a step before tipsy for me.

I ordered it and I felt completely obligated to drink it.  That and I made a promise.  I don't break promises.  Also, Jason was paying which made me feel even more guilty if I wasted it.  With just a few sips in, I knew I was in trouble.  My stomach began doing this flippy thing and my chest tightened as if I had massive acid reflux building up.  It was awful, but I didn't tell Jason at first.  Of course after having paid the bill, now I have the guilt on me that I'm being dead weight to the waitress because she can't flip tables until we leave.  I wasn't even half way through with the margarita.

I would take a few sips, take a few minute break, take a few more sips, and take another few minute break.  I couldn't quite wrap my head around the idea of not finishing this margarita because I made a PROMISE and that margarita was $6.00 all on its own.  I mean, look at this bad boy!

As I continued to milk that margarita, I wondered how many people were wondering how I could drink two whole margaritas and it was just barely noon time.  Usually drinking like that is reserved for dinner time.  Jason made me feel even guiltier and labeled me a "boozer".

With a quarter of the margarita left, I decided that I ought to quit while I was ahead, so at least I thought.  I mean, I really felt like if I drank anymore that I wouldn't be able to walk out the door.  I didn't know what I was more embarrassed about.  The fact that I couldn't handle my liquor any more, that I couldn't keep my promise to my cousin and mom, that I felt like I wasted $2.00-3.00 of Jason's money (Yes, I try to guess what it costs to waste things.  That's what I get from having attended Culinary school), or that I was boozing at noon time.

So, the adventure home begins.

Jason wanted to stop for a coffee while I couldn't even fathom the idea of cream and alcohol mixing together.  So, I opted out on that one.  Instead, I called Jason's parents and bragged a little about having just a bit too much to drink and then briefly talking about our plans to move the rest of our stuff from their house to ours tomorrow.

After I had gotten off the phone with them and Jason had ordered his coffee, we headed home.  We hit the first red light and my stomach wasn't sitting well with me.  I haven't thrown up in years and hate doing it, so that wasn't even a thought for me.  Low and behold, as soon as we hit the bumpy roads ahead, I knew it was going to happen.  Vomit.  No, not word vomit.  Actually vomit.  I forewarned Jason that it was going to happen and fortunately we had a desposed of Dunkin' Donuts paper bag in the back seat for me to do so in.  We rolled down the windows, so that we could both breath long enough to make it home.  Of course we had no napkins, so I had to volunteer my scarf for pick-up duty.

I was so embarrassed.  It's gross, but it happens.

This was me, except no video.  I was sober enough to know what went down, unfortunately.

As soon as I got through the door, I threw my scarf in the kitchen sink, drew extremely hot water with Dawn dish soap and let is soak and into the bathroom I went to finish what I had started.

Once I got a good grip on my stomach, I brushed my teeth and took a nap to sleep it off.  To say the least, I woke up feeling a lot better.

So, I hadn't just wasted the $2.00-3.00 of Jason's money that I originally guesstimated, it was like he payed my complete portion for nothing.

I'm glad I left the rest of that drink in the glass to say the least.

Either I don't drink nearly enough to withstand that amount of liquor anymore (going back into light-weight mode) or I'm getting too old and can't handle liquor like I use to.

I forewarned all of you that this story was gross.  When I started this blog, I told myself that I would be completely myself whether it's good or bad -- even gross.  You don't find that kind of honesty anymore in people.  Now, everything is too much information for people.  People act as though if they tell an embarrassing story, their whole life will fall into some black hole and no one will like them ever again.  We are human.  It happens.  I'm just bold enough to admit it.

Do you have any embarrassing moments that you would like to share?  Leave them in the comments below!