accidental drunk

From an email I composed 12/6/2006:

Ah, the lovely prospect of a tall glass of 100% good-for-the-soul-and-bladder cranberry juice on a Monday afternoon when you've slept little and worked all afternoon with whiny tutees, as we are wont to call the oft-bratty children Janet tutors at the elementary school. Craving a glass of orange juice but knowing there is none in her fridge, Janet is thrilled when she encounters a jug of cranberry juice at her fingertips. "Ah," thinks she, "someone brought this as a mixer for last night's shindig." She pours a tall--and I mean tall--glass for herself and chugs it down. Before the cranberries can register, she pours another half-glass and chugs that.

"Ah, what a lush am I!" Janet muses. "I so rarely drink cranberry juice now, and the only time I consume it is about once every month or two at the Flicker Bar when it's mixed with a little touch o' vodka. I'm so conditioned that I am now convinced that this here cranberry juice tastes like alcohol. How embarrassing!"

Then, in a hazy flash (ah, can a flash be hazy? trust me, it can), it occurs to her: BONNIE. Bonnie is the culprit. Or at least Bonnie's mixed drink. She remembers her dear advisor having walked in the house the night before announcing something to the effect of, "This looks innocent enough, but really this juice has..." (The ellipses is meant to include all the sorts of alcohol Bonnie stashed in the innocent-looking juice jug.)

So, folks, that is the story of how a very tired Janet accidentally did shots of alky juice at 6:15 on a Monday night and got drunk in a jiffy.

Thanks, Bonnie.

Love,

Janet