The Drunk I Am

The drunk I am only drinks Martini Bianco.

The drunk I am barely drinks, therefor the thirst of my inner-drunk is great.

Once my inner drunk gets to drink some Martini Bianco she does not hesitate to down the glass like a peasant.

The drunk I am does not enjoy the taste of alcohol it just wants to get smashed.

Not tipsy, piss on that. Smashed. Wasted.

It never happens. when is was a teenager I would happily sip my way to alcohol poisoning and back. As every healthy fifteen year old on the block I would down alcohols galore. And not get a black-out. I never did that. Don't really believe in it either.

Neither do I believe in having one drink with dinner. Why have one glass of wine with food?

So you don't get drunk?
So you can pay twice as much as you would have for a soft drink?
So you can pretend to be a wine expert? Oh, is that white wine you drinking there with fish madam? Is it really? Let me congratulate you. The choice of choices you have made.
Or is it to properly dehydrate yourself?
Or is it so that your mouth smells foul and you don't have to snog your dinner date?
Just stop dating the ugly bastards, will you?
Or is it so you can spiel red wine all over your white shirt because you are in a washing-powder commercial?
Or would you be one of those obsessive-compulsive full wine glass lifters? How interesting.

The drunk I am never drinks just one glass of anything.