Mint Throwups?

Saturday is Derby day. Derby Day means family Derby party. Fam Derby party means Mint Julips. Mint Julips means Bourbon.

Problem? I hate bourbon and/or whiskey. (Yes, they taste the same.)

Why? Two words. Swim. House.

It all started fall of my freshman year. I was a swim team groupie, and proud of it. What do swim team groupies do? They party at the Swim House, naturally. After a few parties here and there, I was so very proud of myself when I ventured to a Swim House party solo…and dressed in duct tape…and only duct tape. Luckily, I arrived to warm hugs, cheers, and a copious amount of booze.

After getting settled, well as settled as I could be in duct tape, a friend and I decided that it was only appropriate to take shots…and lots of them. At first Justin and I were responsible, you know, as responsible as we could be while taking shots and cheering on our other freshman friends in their game of Beirut. Eventually the allure of sporadic shots wore off, and we found ourselves taking shots for every holiday that we could think of…by month. January was easy; naturally we drank to New Years and quickly moved to February. February we drank to Valentine’s Day and, being the feisty freshman we were, we also drank to the important American holiday that is President’s Day. In March we obviously drank to the great St. Patrick, quickly followed by a drink to April’s Easter. Then things get blurry. I know we drank to Cinco De Mayo, only because I had photo documentation of it. Other than that, I am not sure what other holidays we chose to celebrate…

Fast forward to the end of the night. Piggy back ride home from said swimmer friends, also wearing anything but clothes, and a complimentary duct tape removal treatment, courtesy of my fellow peanut butter connoisseur, future roommate and a pair of scissors. Thanks Jack Daniels!

Lesson learned?

Nope!

One Thursday night of Spring, 2005, I forgot about aforementioned ABC night. As it had become routine, I headed to the Swim House with a couple of my closest near and dears, ready to conquer booze, the bar, and ultimately a mikeys. Things were never normal at the Swim House unless things were abnormal, and I should have known the night was going South quick…the swimmers had recruits.

Again our evening started with shots. Then things got [normally] abnormal. New house rule? All shots were to be taken off of the body of a particular swimmer. This doesn’t sound too weird and/or disgusting, until you learn that said swimmer was a hairy, belly button lint filled individual. Ew. No need to relive that memory.

At any rate, JD strikes again. Kristin is carried home…again, and spent the night in the shower sobering up. Oh, memories.

Lesson learned. To this day, if I am forced to take a shot/drink a drink/swig a sip of whiskey, I immediately wince and/or gag.

Which brings me back to my original debacle. Mint Julips? Naw, I’ll just drink vodka, thank you!